her mother grabbed on to her wrists and Peri was expecting more violence, perhaps to be pushed back against the chair or the wall and held in place while she was lectured, or perhaps to be shoved to the ground or struck again. But none of that happened. Her mother did speak to her, but it didn't sound quite like a lecture — it was said with urgency, like a secret one had to confide quickly before being caught. And then she let her hands go again. Peri trembled where she stood, unsure what to make of any of it.

Crying makes people want to hurt you more. She sniffled and tried to stop, but was very aware that her nose was already running and no amount of sniffling would prevent it from making a mess of her face. She didn't dare reach up and fix it with her sleeve, and the napkins were out of reach. She'd have had to move closer to her mother to retrieve one, and there was no chance of that. Why would people want to hurt her for crying? She didn't understand, not at all. She understood nothing of what her mother was trying to convey. She didn't understand why the test had been impossible to pass, and she didn't understand why she'd been struck, and she didn't understand these words.

But she suspected it wouldn't be wise to admit to that. Still sniffling, she nodded. "Yes, Mama."

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