I retreive the rest of the mail from the box: my Jane magazine, a birthday card from Uncle Fred, some ads, the phone bill...Drats! When they open this I'll be grounded for sure. Bye, bye, phone privileges!

My parents aren't home yet, so I have time to figure out what is in the mystery envelope. I can't just open it. If it's important and turns up missing, or even open just a little bit, I'll surely be faced with Dad's wrath. "We respect your privacy, and we expect you to do the same for us." Blah, blah, blah... Yeah, whatever!

Can I make out what's inside by holding it up to the light? No, of course not! Darn those security envelopes! They were definitely invented by adults who like to make kids sweat. Hmmmm... Once on TV I saw someone steam an envelope to get a peek at its contents. Whoever said you can't learn from television?

I need a pot of boiling water. When the steam starts to rise, I'll hold the envelope over the top. Then I can check out what's inside. This is taking forever, even on high heat. That saying, "A watched pot never boils" is true. Doesn't that figure. I need to distract myself while I'm waiting. Music! That's what I need.

The remote control is never in the same place I left it. Ahhhh... Under the pillow. How'd it get there? Anyway, power is on... How ironic- "Mission Impossible" is on cable right now. That song makes me nuts. MTV is what I want. Maybe I can catch a glimpse of that beautiful Sully Erna and the rest of Godsmack.

Finally! The water is boiling. It certainly took long enough. Now where did I put that envelope...? Wonderful! I lost it. Oh, there it is, right on the table where I left it. Imagine that!

What's that noise? Noooooo! The parents are home! What now? My eyes dart from the letter to the pot to the car in the driveway. Why is my life flashing before my eyes? Could this wicked envelope be the death of me. Oh, geez. I'm too young to die. But I doubt the contents of this thing can be good. No, not at all.

Snap out of it, Hil. Get a grip, never let them see you sweat. Calmly place the envelope on the table, dump the water down the sink, and then RUN! HIDE!

The key is turning in the lock, the parents are laughing. Laughter is good. That means they're in decent moods. How can I even think of ruining their happiness with the dread that this envelope holds? I'll just take it upstairs with me...

"Hi, Hilary, dear. How was school?"

"Just great, Mom. How was work?"

"Hil, did you get the mail yet?"

Gulp. "Yeah, Dad. A bill, some ads, my magazine-"

"What's that?" Oh, no! Busted!

"What's what?" Good cover, moron. They'll never suspect anything now.

"In your hand, that white envelope." Uh, oh. I sense impatience. Sigh...

"I dunno. It came for you and Mom. Here, Mom, why don't you open it?" Slowly inching toward the door, making sure nothing is in the way, so I can make a clean escape.

Rrrrrrrrip! The sound seems amplified through the kitchen. My heart is racing, the door only a leap away.

Why is she just tossing it aside? What is it? I'm pouncing on it before it lands on the table.

"Geez, Hil." My mother is concerned. "You're white as a sheet. Is something wrong?"

Before I answer, I look at the crisp, white paper in my shaking hands:

My response of, "No, Mom. Things are fine," is accompanied by a sigh of relief.