The Real Deal

Everyone was staring. First at Mom, looking her usual unassuming self, then practically cranking their neck at the sun—at Dad, dressed in his overalls as if he was about to go plow the field right after this. Meanwhile, Sammy attracted the least amount of attention, those half-second glances of curiosity people give at little odd things before continuing on their way; that drop of interest evaporating within like five paces. 

Nothing odd about that. I mean, if things happening to catch your eye were considered abnormal behavior, we'd all be institutionalized the moment after our first blink. 

What was definitely odd though was the fact I noticed everyone noticing to begin with. I never used to do that. Before, whenever in public, my family was just like any other family you caught in the corner of your eyes: just another group of faces in a sea of faces.