Jem was twelve. He was difficult to live with, inconsistent, moody. His appetite was appalling , and he told me so many times to stop pestering him so I consulted Atticus: “Reckon he’s got a tapeworm?” Atticus said no, Jem was growing. I must be patient with him and disturb him as little as possible (Lee 131).
This change in Jem had come about in a matter of weeks. Mrs. Dubose was not cold in her grave —Jem had seemed grateful enough for my company when he went to read to her. Overnight, it seemed, Jem had acquired an alien set of values and was trying to impose them on me: several times he went so far as to tell me what to do. After one altercation when Jem hollered, “It’s time you started bein’ a girl and acting right!” I burst into tears and fled to Calpurnia (Lee 131).
“Don’t you fret too much over Mister Jem—” she began.
“Mis-ter Jem?”
“Yeah, he’s just about Mister Jem now.”
“He ain’t that old,” I said. “All he needs is somebody to beat him up, and I ain’t big enough.” (131)
“Baby,” said Calpurnia, “I just can’t help it if Mister Jem’s growin’ up. He’s gonna want to be off to himself a lot now, doin’ whatever boys do, so you just come right on in the kitchen when you feel lonesome . We’ll find lots of things to do in here" (Lee 132).