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By Root 644 0

Kathryn nodded. "But not everything in life comes easily. Some things require struggle. And if we don't learn how to make that kind of effort, we won't be prepared to learn the difficult lessons of life." With a sinking heart, Kathryn realized what her mother was saying. "You're not making me go back! I won't do it! I don't care!" But her mother kept talking, calmly and soothingly. "So many things come easily to you, Kathryn. If we let you quit everything that was difficult, you wouldn't learn to work for what you earn. You'd expect everything to be easy. And life isn't that way. What you must work to earn, you value more. So it's important that you not quit tennis. If you have to work harder to learn to play-then you have to work harder. It may not seem that way now, but you'll be very glad later on that we didn't let you quit." Kathryn felt like crying all over again-it wasn't fairffb suddenly the whoop and clatter of her sister Phoebe rang through the house. She was coming home from her play group; she carried artwork and crumbling cookies and, as usual, exuded the energy of a hurricane.

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, we baked cookies and I did fingerpaints and clay and-was Phoebe came skidding to a halt when she saw Kathryn on her mother's lap. "I want lap, too," she announced firmly, and began crawling onto Gretchen Janeway's already crowded legs.

It isn't fair, thought Kathryn. Phoebe wasn't upset, Phoebe wasn't being forced to do something she hated, Phoebe didn't need comforting. Phoebe even had curly hair! Why did she have to share? Kathryn felt misery begin to envelop her completely, and she slid off onto the floor. "I'm going to my room," she announced, and marched away with Bramble toddling after her, hoping her mother would be really, really sorry she'd driven her away.

She shut the door of her room firmly-no one could accuse her of slamming it, but it felt good to hear the louder-than-usual snap as it closed-and threw herself on the bed. Bramble immediately jumped up and snuggled next to her, and Kathryn wrapped her arm around his warm, woolly body. Tears continued to roll out of her eyes as she indulged in her miserable feelings, and soon she felt Bramble's silky tongue licking the salty droplets. This was almost as good as her mother's lap. Bramble had been lapping up her tears ever since he was a puppy, and Kathryn was convinced he did it because he knew it made her feel better (and not, as Daddy had suggested, because he was attracted to the salty taste). Daddy. Would he let her quit tennis? Kathryn pondered that one for a minute, then dismissed it. She couldn't remember when Mommy and Daddy didn't agree on issues like these. Was that part of being traditionalists, too?

She looked around her room, which didn't look like the room of any of her friends. They had spare, minimally furnished rooms with no evidence of clutter; Kathryn's was decorated in a style she knew was ancient: a white four-poster bed with a ruffled flounce, lace curtains at the window, shelves lined with stuffed animals. Her mother had shown her pictures of rooms like that from centuries ago; their whole house looked like an ancient heirloom from the twenty-second century. She supposed that was how "traditionalists" decorated their houses.

The chime of her desk console interrupted her thoughts, and she rolled over to see that it was an incoming message from her friend Mary O'Connell. Kathryn wiped at her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair; Mary was always immaculate, and she didn't want to appear mussed by comparison. She pushed the control on the console, and Mary's cheerful face appeared on the screen.

"Kathryn, guess what?" bubbled Mary. She was a vivacious girl with huge brown eyes and satiny hair so blond it was almost white. She looked as though she were about to burst with some wonderful news, and indeed, without waiting for Kathryn to make a guess, she barreled ahead. "I'm captain of the fourth-grade Parrises Squares team!" This announcement hit Kathryn like a slap, and that must have been apparent to