"You'll tell Dad he never lifts a finger to help next," I say.
"We will not allow you to meet with boys, will we, Tom?"
"You're still a child, Katie," says Dad.
I count the worry lines on his forehead, one, two, and three, and so I lie. "I don't meet with boys," I say, then I ask if I can please have another fruit scone.
Reprinted from Cover the Butter by Carrie Kabak, pages 1-13, with permission from Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright © 20054 by Carrie Kabak. All rights reserved. This excerpt, or any parts thereof, may not be reproduced without permission.
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