Tenth grade, Beale Air Force Base, California. I’m hanging out with Mark across the street and it’s his birthday. He’s a clean-cut kid who’s a little too nice, with parents who are a lot too strict. So I hid my best single sheets of pornography into a graphic novel and wrapped it as a present. Now we’re all in the living room, his mom, two little sisters, him and me as he unwraps his gift. But before he has a chance to flip through it, his mom wants to see it. Mark has no idea what’s going on. He shrugs and passes the graphic novel to his little sister to hand over. Now this tiny blonde six year old girl in a little white dress is holding a bunch of filthy pornography. She looks blankly at the cover and I silently beg her not to open it, but thankfully she’s not interested in books. Mark’s mom is Greek, I think; attractive and very flirty. But she doesn’t sleep in the same bed as his father. I feel like she already knows what’s inside as she looks at me, taking the graphic novel from her prepubescent daughter, a faint smile at the corner of her mouth. Time freezes as she slowly flips through it, says “Nice,” then walks it back over to Mark. Did she see the porn or not? Her eyes meet mine for a brief second and I feel a little funny inside.