The first image was a diagram—a simple line drawing of a boy and a girl, featureless as gingerbread cookies, with arrows pointing to their brains. The hypothalamus. The narrator’s voice was calm, almost sleepy, with the precise enunciation of a public broadcast from the NOS. “Puberty begins not in the legs or the chest, but here, in the command center.”
The Last Reel
“Yes, Bram?”
Mrs. Visser considered this. “Sometimes,” she said. “But not forever.” The first image was a diagram—a simple line
Then came the diagram of the uterus. Then the penis. Lars’s pen hovered, frozen. On the girls’ side, someone—was it Sanne Meijer?—made a small, sharp gasp. But no one laughed. No one pointed. featureless as gingerbread cookies