"Charlotte, come here" a stern voice said. My mother. I hesitated. "Yes, mother?" I said, and started walking towards the sound of her voice. We -children, that is- had to be polite because we were children. We had no right to say anything unless we were spoken to, as our elders taught us the words we now know. Its stupid, and no kid I have ever met has not been ready to turn fifteen. I finally made it to the hallway where my mother held a book in her hand. Shit. Her face was calm, but her brown eyes seemed to snap and crackle when she looked at me. "Could you please tell me," she said "very kindly, why do we have THIS in our home? We are a respected family! How could you risk us like this?" She said 'risk us' but what she meant was youwilltarnishthefamilynameandwewillliveinshameforever. I knew why. One of my best friends Arry brought a book called Lacey Finds a Job home when she was ten from the poor library, and someone found out, and now Arry's Father Needs to Find a Job. But that's only for families who work for the government. "Bert gave it to me" I said defensively "but you know he's a good man, mother, but he knows me and I-" My mother's face softened like ice cream on a hot day. I could see worry lines on her face when she calmed down, when she wiped her hand over her sweaty face and blush came off, and her freckles showed. I liked her better that way. With all her wrinkles and spots. She seemed more real, like she used to be. "It's okay," she said "don't worry about it. And don't tell Father." She smiled and her eyelashes splayed out on her cheek like a fan. "You need to keep this a secret though. Hide it where Jan won't find it, and only read it on her day off." We heard the front door slam. "Oh no," she said. "Does my hair look okay? Did my makeup smear? Oh hell, he's here. Ok. See you in the morning honey" she gave me one last melting look, and skipped downstairs in an attempt to look cheerful.
