“No. This has to do with drugs."My jaw fell open and I almost lost my toothbrush. "You're on drugs?"She pressed her mouth together. "No. You are.""I'm on drugs?" I asked, stunned. I had no idea.”

“I do not," I felt oddly appalled by her statement. "I'm an excellent liar. Ask my dentist. He swears I floss regularly.”

“I shifted in my chair as Dad waited for a response. He seemed determined, his resolve unwavering. This would take tact. Prudence. Possibly Milk Duds.“Are you psychotic?” I asked, realizing my plan to charm and bribe him if need be flew out the window the minute I opened my mouth.”

“Amber, you could never embarrass me.""Never?" she asked."Never.""One time, I yelled across the store to Mom and asked her if she wanted the regular or the super-absorbent tampons. I added that, according to the box, the super-absorbent were for those heavy days. Then I asked her to rate her heaviness on a scale of one to ten.""Okay, you could.""Then while we were standing in line, I asked her why she was buying three boxes of Summer's Eve in the middle of winter."I set her at arm's length. "Wow.""I know, right? I had no idea a person could turn so red.”

“Oh, my god!" I said, throwing my hands over my eyes and hurtling my body against the counter."What?""You're naked.""I'm not naked.""I'm blind.""You're not blind. I'm wearing pants.""Oh." That was embarrassing.”

“Wait, what are you doing?” She could apparently hear the strain in my voice as I craned my neck from side to side. “I’m trying to see past a little girl on my hood."“Oh. Isn’t that dangerous?” “Normally. But she has a knife.” “Oh, well, then, I guess it’s okay.”

“Since I didn't have a candy wrapper to help me with the bad connection I was about to have, I resorted to using vocal sound effects. When Agent Carson picked up, I started my performance. "Agent... Agent Carson," I said, panting into the phone."Yes, Charley." She seemed unimpressed, but I wasn't about to stop now."I--I know who the kshshshshshsh are.""I'm a little busy right now, Davidson. What is a Ksh, and why do I care?""I'm sorry. My kshshsh... is kshshsh... ing."I repeat. What is a Ksh? And why do I care if it is ksh-ing?"She was a tough one. I knew I should have waited and bought a Butterfinger at the Jug-N-Chug. Those wrappers crakled like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning. "You aren't listeni--kshshsh.""You're really bad at this.""Bank ro-ksh-ers. I know who they kshshsh.""Charley, if you don't cut this crap out."I hung up and turned off my phone before she could figure out what I was trying not to tell her and call back.”