‘A little birdie told me.’ ‘Who told you?’ He smiled again, but shook his head and refused to answer. I was curious. Not one soul at work knew...what day it was. ‘I’m not telling, but I hope you enjoy your evening,’ he said, as he walked to his car. I racked my brains all the way home, trying to work out how Jason had found out my birthday date. Perhaps he had found it in a file that day? There was something about the way he had smiled knowingly that unnerved but absolutely intrigued me.. He is queer. Every penny goes forfashion. He gets a few dollars and he gets a new belt or new shoes. Histaste is flashy. Bold colors. Bold patterns. He wears tight pants andtight shirts that emphasize his skinniness and youth. Pluses for me. I invited him over when he was 15. Let him have some Angry Orchardcidar. Let him get a buzz. Did I have pot? Probably but I don't remembergetting high with him then. Pot can make you paranoid. Better to make themove with alcohol. Did later for sure. But he. More

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