✅ Over Protected

14. Detectives Discuss Theories

They talked about it a little longer. Jessie didn't understand my excuse, but her mum got it perfectly, which was all I needed. She let me out of the car at home, so that I could read myself a poem in an atmosphere like the one it described. And I did that, even if it felt a bit silly. It sounded like such a good idea when I said it that I thought I probably should. And maybe it helped me understand Mr Harper's lesson a bit better. But then I took my shoes off quick and ran up to my room. I changed out of my school clothes into something less smart and more comfy. And then I listened for a few seconds, to hear the empty house creaking.

"Sarah?" I called. But she wasn't home. She would be out with her friends; Bella and Sylvie, and a whole bunch of people she didn't really like. And then, sure that I was alone, I went into Mum's room again. I didn't have an excuse to be in there often, and it still felt strange. But this time I was here for a reason, and I was sure Mum would never know.

She'd moved the book. But I knew the colours on the cover, and I could find it on her bookshelf, wedged between two picture books that she had read to me when I was younger. I resisted the urge to think about why she would have those still, or what kind of memories they held, and pulled out the book I had seen that morning.

Training Your Teenager.

The cover showed a cartoon picture of a baby in a high chair, but the drawing had enough curves that I could tell she was supposed to be about Sarah's age. The kind of figure that most girls would kill for, but dressed up in a romper suit with 'Mommy's Girl' on the front, and clearly in diapers. The subtitle on the cover was "101 tips for encouraging your Little One to act her age". I could tell from the colours and the art style that it was part of a set with the one that Sarah had, Potty Training for Teens. But the art stood out even more on this one. Was this just for kids with a bedwetting problem, or for kids who had trouble with other grown-up stuff too? I wondered if there might actually be a few different "for Teens" books, to help with different developmental problems; but it still seemed pretty weird.

I spread it out on the dresser. I would probably have been more comfortable taking it back to my own room to read, but I wasn't sure how long I would have before Jessie's mum came to look for me; or before Sarah came home. If I heard keys in the front door, there would be time to put the book back on the shelf and leave the room. There might not be time to run back here from my room and still not get caught where I wasn't supposed to be.

I started reading, but it didn't make that much sense to me. The intro talked about how this book was designed to help your Little One to act her age. But then it used the words Teenager, Trainee, and Child as well. I got the feeling that the terms were deliberately chosen, like they meant different things, but there was no explanation of how the words were used. It talked about Objectives as well, with a capital letter, and said that it was important to choose some before starting the book. Would the objective be just to stop Sarah wetting the bed? That seemed like something that would be dictated by the problem, not something to choose. About two thirds of the way down the first page, I found a line saying that a teen with a bedwetting problem could easily start training, and even reach any goal within a year. That made perfect sense. But then it was qualified by saying that a teenager who didn't have problems staying dry could still be helped by LVX2, whatever that was, and that the book would be able to help her even more.

I started trying to look up words in the index, but every page I tried said things that didn't make any sense to me. It was like Teenager didn't just mean a girl in her teens, and Training wasn't about keeping the bed dry all night. There was some extra level of meaning there, that they book just assumed you would know.

By that point, I realised that it had already been half an hour. I should get going, anyway. This clearly wasn't teaching me anything, because it felt like I would need some kind of insight into how this technique worked before I could even start. I needed a dictionary to translate what it meant.

While I stood there indecisively, I heard the sound of the key in the door. Sarah was home. I quickly rammed the book back onto the shelf, as I heard her struggling with the wobbly lock again. At least that confirmed that it wasn't Mum home early again; it was only Sarah who had to jiggle her key around that much, after she'd managed to bend it ever so slightly by dropping something on it.

I should have gone right away. But while I was in there, something else came to my mind. Those wipes; and how much I wanted to know how it felt to be changed like a baby. Even if it was just wiping my butt down with a wet wipe before I put my diaper on tonight.

I lifted the pack of wipes out of the pocket of Mum's dressing gown, hanging behind her bedroom door. Unlike the ones in Sarah's drawer, this packet was open. And there was no way she would notice if I grabbed a handful and hid them in my school bag, ready to use later. These ones were extra childish, printed with a pattern of rockets and stars that looked like a watermark on the wipes themselves. And they smelled sweet, faintly reminding me of ice cream.

"Babÿ Star Wipes," I read the label with a little smile, trying to pronounce the name like Madison had said. And then the marketing promise printed across the whole width of the packet in a long curve: "Now with STX* to reduce diaper rash by up to 90%**". But it was the text on the other side that caught my eye as I slipped the pack back into Mum's pocket. It was a solid white box with the word WARNING at the top in block capitals. And then beneath that, an explanation "contains lysentripase: not suitable for use on teen girls" which raised way more questions than it answered.

As I rushed back to my own room, I had a hundred questions running across my mind. Was this some experimental treatment that wasn't approved yet, or something? Was that why Mum was still telling Sarah that she might get better, even though the news reports all agreed that bedwetting from the virus would have been gone in a couple of weeks unless it had caused permanent damage? Could it be that the hope Mum was giving her wasn't false after all?

I felt bad for taking the wipes, then. If they were some kind of medicine, I was sure they had to be more expensive than the regular ones. I shouldn't waste them for my own curiosity. But it wasn't like I could put them back now. I'd just have to wait and see. But I felt bad for Mum, not being able to tell Sarah about this experiment. I could understand that she didn't want to get her hopes up in case she had to let her down again, but it must have been so hard saying nothing. I'd have to do some more research, see if I could find out more about it, and then at least Mum would be able to talk to me about her hopes and her worries.

I loaded the coffee machine as I went out again, and set it on a timer so that it would be ready when Mum came in. Right now, that was all I could do to help.