Now, most adults might have said something like, "That sounds like a loaded question," or "What are you really asking?" But Mimi put her teacup down, sat back in her chair, and considered me. At last she replied, "Yes, you seem like a normal twelve-year-old to me. You do not wear the clothes that Claudia does, but I do not think that means anything. You are very responsible, and you also seem very mature. But you are serious, too, and I know it is not wise to confuse gravity with maturity."

She had almost lost me, but all that counted was that she thought I seemed like any other kid my age. "So, Mimi," I went on, "how come I'm not allowed to make my room more

grown-up? You know what's on my walls? Alice in Wonderland and Humpty Dumpty. . . . Do you know who Humpty Dumpty is?"

"Oh, yes. He is the shattered eggman."

I giggled, then remembered the reason for our discussion and became serious again. "Right, but he's from a Mother Goose nursery rhyme. A nursery rhyme, Mimi. Nursery rhymes aren't for twelve-year-olds. They're not even for little kids. They're for babies. But Dad won't let me take Humpty down. He won't even let me leave Humpty where he is and put new posters up next to him. He won't let me wear my hair down or put on nail polish or stay out past nine-thirty at the absolute latest. And Claudia, Stacey, and even Kristy are allowed to do all those things — and a lot more. Every time I turn around, I'm facing another one of my father's rules: You can't ride your bike downtown, you can't wear pants to school, you can't do this or this or this."

I paused to catch my breath.

Mimi raised her eyebrows slightly. "I know it is not easy for you," she said slowly. She sipped her tea. "And I suppose you have heard people say that your father is doing the best he can."

I nodded. It seemed as if everyone in the