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ready.”
    “Kindergarten was stupid,” I grumbled. “The first time and
especially
the second time. Like I didn't know my ABCs? Like I couldn't count to twenty?”
    “I know, Samantha. You
were
smart. Which is why I did what I did.”
    “Did what you… what did you do?”
    Her eyes were fluttering like crazy. Her mouth was in hypertwitch. But she didn't answer my question. Instead she said, “To this day I don't understand why you couldn't have just sat still. Squirm, squirm, squirm. And you'd talk out of turn and tackle other kids. Therewas this one boy, Tyrone, do you remember him? Big kid, and nice as can be. You'd tackle him and steal his scooter. One time you even gave him a black eye!”
    “Mom! WHAT DID YOU DO?”
    “Well, I… I… “ She gave me a cross look. “And there's no need to shout.” Then she composed herself and said, “You have to understand, I thought you were ready! You were so precocious. Your vocabulary was astonishing! And even though you were a little small, I thought you could handle it. I thought waiting another year would make you so
bored.
Besides, I was having trouble making ends meet and… and… it seemed like the perfect solution!”
    It felt like a cold drop of water was trickling down my spine. “Are you saying… do you mean that…” I knew she was trying to tell me something big, only I wasn't quite getting it.
    Then Grams rolls her eyes and says, “Just tell her, Lana.”
    “All right, all right,” Mom snaps. Then she does a total diva pose, with her hand to her forehead as she sighs and looks down. “Samantha, it was the wrong thing to do and I'm sorry. But I did it, and it's time you knew.”
    “Knew
what?”
    She drops her hand and sighs again. “The reason you weren't ready for kindergarten was because you actually weren't ready for kindergarten.”
    “What?”
    “You were only four years old.”
    Like two ice drifts heading for each other, my life and my mother's lie crashed together. I felt cold. Helpless. Destroyed. It was worse than being adopted.
    Or stolen.
    Or found in a Dumpster.
    Finally I choked out, “That means I'm only
twelve?”
    She gave me a helpless little look and tried to smile. “But tomorrow you'll be thirteen…”
    “So you what? Doctored my birth certificate? I mean, the school makes you give them a birth certificate, right?”
    She nodded. “And then when they had you repeat kindergarten, I just… well, I couldn't bring myself to tell them the truth.”
    “But what about
me?
Why didn't you tell
me
?”
    “I was afraid you would spill the beans. And because you were always so proud of turning another year older. I didn't have the heart to—”
    I sprang to my feet. “I can't
believe
this! I can't believe that you would
do
that! All these years I thought I'd failed kindergarten! Do you know how
embarrassing
that is? But no, I didn't really fail—you just put me in too early! It was easier for you to stick me in school than it was for you to take care of me!”
    “Samantha!” Grams said. “Samantha, that's just not true. Try to understand that your mother—”
    “No!” I shouted. “And why didn't
you
tell me, Grams? I can't believe you've gone along with this all these years!”
    “Please try to understand. Your mother wanted to—”
    “I don't care what
she
wanted! This is
my
life! You should've told me!”
    And before either one of them could stop me, I bolted out the door.
    Nobody should have to be thirteen twice. It's not like I really believe in bad luck, but for me thirteen had not been a very good year.
    Scratch that—it'd been downright rotten.
    Plus, in the back of my mind, turning fourteen was like quietly turning the corner on bad things. Like escaping bad luck. Being fourteen was a lot more “almost sixteen” than being thirteen. It was a lot closer to driving and earning my own money and just being, you know, independent.
    But now all of a sudden I was twelve. Twelve! How could I be twelve? I felt like