When Abby tried to check out the book from the eighth-grade section, Mrs. Grasskey wouldn't let her.
"Do you have a permission slip?" she asked, peering over her glasses with suspicion. "I know where this book came from. It's not appropriate for someone your age."
Abby asked her mom to sign the slip, but she refused.
"Why don't you reread the Babysitter's Club books you got for Christmas?" she asked. "Those are more appropriate."
When her mom left for town meeting, Abby fished the permission slip out from the recycling can. She looked in her mom's desk for anything she'd signed. No dice. She tried to mimic her mom's signature from memory, but the letters looked too crooked and clumsy.
There was only one thing left to do. It was a sweltering September day, but she donned her baggiest sweater. She sweated all through her morning classes. Finally, recess came and gave her the chance she needed.
Abby strolled into the library like she belonged there and waited for Mrs. Grasskey to turn her back. She snuck into the forbidden aisle and tucked the inappropriate book under the sweater.
Back in the sunshine, she read the cover with glee: Twilight.