Once a year, starting when they were eight years old, midway between both their birthdays, Billy and Candice would share each other.

Billy came over one night to escape his grandmother's sheltering. He climbed in through the window to the second story, like he always did.

Her room was empty, the light off, but the bathroom door off to the side of the room was ajar and a pale beam of white light spread from it across the wooden floor.

He walked over to it quietly and put an eye to the crack.

Candice was leaning on the side of the tub, her palms pressed the ledge, staring down at the water. Billy watched her breathing and felt content just to know that she was alive.

She turned around suddenly and stood there staring at him, stark naked.

"Hi, Billy," she said.
"Hi," he whispered.
"You can come in." She walked across the tile floor to him. "I'm taking a bath."
"I know."
They stood there, staring each other in the eye for a moment.
"Mom's downstairs. You want something?"
"No."
"You wanna take a bath, too?"
He shrugged.
"I guess."
She shrugged. "Ok. I'll get you a towel."
She walked out of the bathroom into the unlit bedroom, returning in a moment with a towel and a wash cloth.
"If you want, you put your clothes by the radiator. It makes them warm for when you get out. That's what I do."
"Ok."
While he stripped off his clothes Candice turned back to the water and occupied herself with the surface film, fascinated by the resilience of it until she plunged her hands beneath the surface.
"I'm ready," he said.
She turned to him.
They stood there observing each other for a minute, their pre-pubescent bodies growing cold in the air.
She held out a hand to him.
"We're different," he said, staring down at himself, then looking back at her.
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a girl...And...you're a boy."
"I never thought you were different before."
"It doesn't really matter, Billy," she replied glancing down at herself.
"Well...we're not that different, right?"
She shrugged.
"I just have this," he said, fingering his penis. "And you don't."
"No, Billy. I'm a girl," she replied.
"What does it mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything right now," she said.
"I don't understand."
"It'll mean something later. Don't worry about it."
"When will it mean something later?"
"I don't know."
"But everything else is the same," he said again.
With his index finger, he traced the lines of her body from her pinky finger and up her arm.
She turned around in a circle and he followed suit. Then she traced him, too, in the same way.
"Let's take a bath now, ok?" she said. "I'm cold."
"Ok," he said. "Me, too."
They stepped in the water and bathed themselves. Afterwards, they dried off.
Wrapped in their towels, standing close to the radiator, they stood there smiling at each other.
After they were warm enough, Candice put on her pajamas and got Billy a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from her wardrobe.
In the morning, Candice's mother wasn't surprised to find them both asleep in Candice's bed. It was a common practice. Since it was Saturday, she only poked her head in before closing the door again, softly behind her.
The next year, Billy asked Candice if he could see her again.
"Yeah," she answered.
They stripped again and inspected each other.
"We're still the same," he said.
"I know."
"You said this would matter one day," he said, pointing down at himself.
"It will one day," she said again.
"Why?"
"Because that's how nature works."
They put their clothes back on. When they were eleven, Candice told him that the next year they would be different.
"How?" Billy asked.
"We'll start to change," she said.
"How?"
She shrugged. "We'll grow up."
"You're already like that."
"I know," she said. "But maybe I'll grow up more."