I get home so early from the dance that mom and dad hear the front door open and instinctively come running. Mom arrives in the foyer first hardly able to contain her curiosity, “Your home early, what happened?” Nothing like mom and the way she cuts to the chase. Tact isn’t her forte. I kick my shoes off and hang Scott’s sweater in the closet, “I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” I say hoping this will put an end to their questions.

“Give us a hint Honey, I don’t want to hear your mother speculate in bed all night. You know how she drones on with...