When I got home the next day, Mom was already there, reading on the kitchen table. I went to open the fridge and took out a carton of milk to drink.
"Did you have a good day, honey?" she asked, putting a bookmark on the page she had read and placed the book on the table. I could hardly make myself look at her. I hoped I didn't have this I'm-going-to-sneak-out-tonight written all over my face. Somehow I managed to act normal and said, "Yes I did. Can we have our dinner early today?"
"Oh, you're hungry?" Mom asked with concern. "Of course, we might just do that."
At the dining table, I couldn't stop peeking at my mom. I already felt guilty about my plan tonight, but I had to finish what I had started.
"What is it, honey?" Mom asked when she caught me looking at her.
"Nothing," I said aw
