I knock on their bedroom
door. "You guys," I say, "I have a surprise." There's no answer, so I open their door. "Breakfast in bed," I say, holding the tray. And then I say, "Ouch."


I get a splinter on Mom and Dad's wooden floor. I put the tray of hot chocolate and honey toast on Mom's side of the bed. Then I sit on Dad's side while he gets out a needle.

I hold my foot as still as I can in his hand while his other one digs under my skin to the splinter.

I can't see it, but it hurts. Dad digs deeper and there's a lot of blood. He is sopping it up with cotton. I hold still because if I make it hard for him he won't get the splinter out next time.

Afterwards, I walk around with a hop and a lean, and my dad says not to make such a big deal of the sliver, or I'll hurt something else much worse.

On My Fifteenth Birthday | Home