Science Fiction for Young Readers, grade 4 up
Story by Terry Gibson ©

TABITHA'S SECRET, Chapter 12

     In Math class, for the first time, Tab had
really understood what she was doing, and it 
had been such a good feeling that she was still
smiling when she went to Ms. Tempest's class.
     There her teacher took care of that.  
Putdowns were part of Ms. Tempest's arsenal, and 
she got Tab with a zinger that the rest of the 
class enjoyed loudly.  
	"How nice that I could bring happiness to 
so many people," Tab said bitterly, and almost 
got herself tossed out into the hall.
     "She didn't have to tell me that my Science
Fair project would be `mediocre at best,'" Tab
complained to Gregory on the way home.  
"I knew it already."
     "If you could control your flights, wouldn't
it be a smash?"
     "Wouldn't it though!  Actually, I have an
alternate plan and a bunch of stuff already done--
you know, a wall chart, and like that--in case I
do.  I'm working on it you know."
     "Be careful."
     "For sure."  Like I know that thinking or
reading THAT WORD doesn't make it do anything;
neither does writing it.  "I do know I have to
hear it before it works.  Once I find out how to
stop an attack, I'll be able to do experiments 
to test it."
     "Being afraid isn't going to solve it, you
know," Greggy said.

                         
     Somewhat later, when Gregory's snack was 
long gone and he was watching STAR TREK, he 
heard, "GREGORY GRAY! YOU GET IN HERE AND CLEAN 
THIS MESS!"  It was his mother's schoolyard 
voice, the one that could be heard for blocks.  
"Get here this instant!"
    Tabitha gritted her teeth.  She heard the
hard edge in her mother's voice as she scolded
Gregory.  "...Why you never put anything back."
     Never?  Sure he does, lots of times, Tab
thought.  Unaware that she had the same fault, 
Tab wondered why her mother always exaggerated.
     "Disaster area," she heard.  "Everything's
sticky.  Look at this floor that I spent hours
polishing yesterday.  I work long days for you 
and you don't help at all--"  Tab had closed 
her door, and made a face in the direction of 
the kitchen.

     
     Gregory was not so lucky.  There was no 
door that he could close.  He would have told 
his mother that he knew she had had a tough day, 
but her barrage of scolding came between them.  
He picked up a wet sponge to attack the spill, 
and his stomach knotted in the old familiar way 
as the hard words landed like so many blows.
     Tab had told him how to block it out, but
he couldn't quite set up a barrier of inner
commentary like she said.  He tried to think of
other things as he scrubbed, but the sharp words
came through.  Even a hint of inattention could
set his mother off to renewed tongue-lashing.


     Out of sympathy for Gregory, Tab descended
the carpeted staircase step by step, drawn like 
a moth into flames.  A heavy lump twisted in her
gut.  Boy, Mom must have had a horrible day to 
be this uptight, she thought.  She always runs 
off at the mouth when she's upset; it's not 
personal. Funny thing though, if my head 
understands it so well, why has nobody told my 
gut?
     She saw Greg's hunched form as he cleaned,
and looked at her mother standing with her hands
on hips, feet apart, temporarily out of verbal
ammunition.
     "There you are, Tabitha.  Did you take out 
a casserole?"
     "No,...I..."
     "Do it now.  Start the oven, three-fifty.
Looks like a late supper tonight."  As she 
walked toward the living room, she said, 
"Honestly, you children are just too much."  
She kicked off her shoes and sank into her chair.  
"Call me when supper is ready."


     In the kitchen, Tabitha had slipped the
frosty casserole into the oven to get them warm
together.  She whispered to Greggy, "A `please'
now and then would help," as she set out bread,
butter, and pickles while Greg set the table.
When they went to tell their mother that it was
done, they found her asleep in her chair.
     Tab led the way upstairs and closed her door
behind them.  "I hate it when she does that."
     "I should have cleaned up--"
     "Oh-oh."  It had started.  "I don't know how
to get down--" and she fell. "Hey, it's over."
     "I'm sorry I said that word," and he traced
the letters U and P in the air.
     "That's okay.  It's over."
     They sat down and for a while, said nothing.
Finally, it was Tab who spoke.  "I've been
thinking.  Maybe we really should help her more."
     "Like how?"
     "She does our laundry.  It's not hard; the
machine does it all. We could load and unload, 
put it into the dryer, fold it and put it away--
Couldn't we?"
     "Do you think that would keep her from 
losing it with us?"
     "It couldn't hurt."
     "And I could leave a tidy kitchen."
     "I think if she had fewer Tom-Toms and 
Rolphs in her classrooms," Tab said, "she'd be 
in a better mood at the end of the day."
     They talked until the smell of supper 
brought them downstairs again.  Their mother, 
refreshed by her nap, apologized for blasting 
them.  Her apology was accepted.
     Supper over and dishes done, Greg went to his
room to do some Math homework.  Mother was marking
compositions at the dining room table, and Tabitha
had wandered from room to room, sort of dusting--
at least she had a dust cloth in her hand.


     "Mom," she started.  No answer.  Mother was
like that when she was working.  It could be hard
to get her attention.  Tab sat on the footstool 
at her mother's feet.  "Please, could I have a
moment?"
     Her mother looked up after the note she had
been writing on a student's paper was done.  She
capped her pen, and gave Tab all her attention.
     Muffet yawned and stood up.  Like a dog, he
backed away from his front paws and left them
extended from low shoulders.  Tail straight up, 
he stretched.
     Tab swallowed.  This wasn't going to be easy.
"Uh, Mom, is it wrong not to tell the whole truth
sometimes?"
     "Depends.  Why do you ask?"
     "Well, Greggy..."  How was she going to put
it without blabbing everything?  She had so nearly
said that Greggy knew but she didn't want to tell,
but caught herself just in time.  She recovered,
and went on, "There are things a girl doesn't want
to say, you know?"  Actually she meant to her
mother, but the principle was the same.
     "Private, personal things?"
     "Oh yes.  Very."  
     What could be more personal than a body 
that suddenly rises off the floor?
     "About boys?"  Her mother's lightly casual
tone was just a little too careful.
     Tab picked up on it.  Her mother was worried
about sex.  "Oh no, no boys.  Just that my body
seems to be..." Oops.  Almost said too much.
     "Oh well!" said her mother, her smile lit by
the sunshine of her relief.  As if it hadn't been
nearly as bad as she had expected.  Tab thought 
a moment; her mother thought she was only talking
about physical maturing!  Well, why not?
Sometimes it's nice to protect our parents.  
Her mother's eyes were checking out Tab's chest, 
no longer as flat.
     "No dear, you do not have tell anything at
all.  It's no one else's business."
     "Oh, wonderful!  Thank you, Mom."
     "Just remember, Tabby dear, when you need
help, just ask me.  I remember what it was like,
and how comforting it was to talk with Gram about
it.  It may shock you, but I was young once too.
Just ask."
     "Thanks Mom, I'll remember."  Tab rose,
leaving her mother smiling benignly before she
settled to mark more compositions about "What I
Would Do If I Won the Lottery."  Tabitha was much
relieved too, knowing that her mother thought the
situation was under control.