Every Graduate’s Sibling Had to Make Them a Gift for Prom – I Worried About My Brother with Down Syndrome Until I Saw What He’d Made Me Enima

“What?”

“The sentence.”

“Really?”

He looked offended.

“I know words.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Marianne.”

He pointed a fry at me.

“I have Down syndrome. I am not a baby.”

The car went silent.

Mom looked at me in the mirror.

I felt horrible.

Danny raised his eyebrows.

“Do you?”

That hurt.

Because sometimes, apparently, I didn’t.

“I think I worry too much.”

“About you.”

“Yes.”

“I thought tonight might be hard.”

“It was.”

I blinked.