Then it had been a gift from her mother? Peri stood on her tiptoes while her mother held her chin, trying her best to keep her head level but still not entirely able to manage it. Her mother's touch was not gentle. Why had she asked the question earlier if she had been the one to buy it and knew the answer already? That had been a test after all — or maybe it was just the lead up into this moment. This was certainly a test.

"No, Mama," she responded. She might have trembled on the inside but her voice was clear; she knew how to do this. Six or seven layers to every feeling, and the one that made it through to the surface had been beaten down to something indistinguishable from politeness. She blinked and tried to determine whether or not she was going to cry; it seemed a proper moment for it, but the tears weren't there. She hadn't been invested in the tea set, and her mother — well, she had not expected affection from her. So there wasn't so much to be disappointed about, in the end, and she knew — knew — crying constituted failing the test.

"Should I make the other pot?" she asked, thinking that perhaps her mother wouldn't let go of her chin until there was a task to set herself to.

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