Her brother had a thing about knives.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen that she realized there was anything weird about that. Not because of her brother. Her brother, who had display cases and the knowledge how to fix old broken switchblades, who taught her about sharpening and gave her the most important knowledge of all – it would hurt more to be cut by a dull blade.

It all appeared to be practical knowledge. Some of his collection was beautiful, while others were rare types. It was more interesting than a stamp collection. Of which she knew zero people actually did.

Then she mentioned it in class. Everyone had a reaction that told her something. Those who were uncomfortable, those who were a little too interested. She stood there in her new class and looked back at all these people and knew suddenly that her brother was weird to them. Whether they thought weird was good or bad.

And now she was weird too.