I have to confess. This has been weighing me down for the past sixteen years of my life, and I don't think I can take one more year of closeting it.

(No, I am not gay. I was possibly bi-curious a couple of years ago, but that phase has since passed. Possibly. Who knows?)

Sixteen years ago, I stole something.

Or, at least, I was framed. Forced to fess up on a crime that even I myself wasn't sure I actually committed. It has been sixteen years, and I have tried to bury that memory. But like the rain that constantly beats down on soft, muddy earth, the memory resurfaces like a murder corpse's fist with its middle finger sticking out.

Sixteen years ago, I was convicted of stealing a library book.

It all started with me and my friend Lily, two innocent-looking fourth graders who frequented the library. At ten years old, most of the girls in my grade were spending recess either swapping stationery, showing off their new colorful My Gel pens, or playing jackstones in the corridor. Lily and I liked to hang out in the library at least twice a week when we could.

There was a little room in the library that housed books for children my age. Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mysteries, Dr. Seuss books, and other books with colorful illustrations on them lined the walls. I liked to borrow books, and I usually had to have a new library card issued to me every year because my first one would get filled at an unbelievable rate for a ten-year-old. Lily and I loved that room.

Today, I was perusing through a few Nancy Drew titles that I hadn't tried yet. Lily was poring through something else on the table behind me.

"Hey," Lily whispered, "do you have your library card with you?"

I pushed Nancy Drew and The Mystery of the Ivory Charm back into its spot in the shelf and turned my head towards Lily. "No, why?"

"I want this." She held up the book she had been looking at. It was Ghost Stories by Jane Launchbury. I had seen that book make the rounds in my classroom last week. Most of the kids liked it and passed it around, but I never got a chance to read it before it was returned. I had forgotten about it until today. Seeing Lily hold it up made me swell with jealousy, especially because I had really wanted to read the tale about the flibbertigibbet.

"I don't have mine on me, sorry," I told her, feigning a sad face. "Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to borrow it. I already loaned the maximum." Pupils were allowed to borrow three books at the time. I already had three unreturned books on my card. In my head, I wondered if I could return The Cucumber King later, which I had borrowed yesterday and was still in my stroller. Since Lily couldn't get Ghost Stories, I would have to hide the book until I could return for it. Without her. I thought it was a devious plan.

Lily made a sad face, too, and then pursed her lips and squinted her eyes like she was thinking really hard. Her little fingers drummed lightly across Ghost Stories cover.

"Watch the door," she commanded.

This put me on high alert. I stiffened, pressed my back against a shelf, and turned my head from side to side with my eyes wide as saucers. I knew what she was going to do.

"Lily, no! Stop!" I hissed.

But Lily had started to lift her skirt and jam Ghost Stories between her thighs. "What?" she asked nonchalantly as she locked her legs together and smoothed her skirt down. "It won't fit in my pocket. And it's too wide to wedge between my waistband."

"Lily! Put it back on the table right now!" I whispered, jabbing my finger against the bright blue table between us. "I will not be an accessory to theft!"

I looked over my shoulder and was relieved that no one had come running into the room. I had half expected the librarian to already have a keen sense for book thievery going on in her sanctuary. But I heard no footsteps coming our way. The library was relatively empty.

"Oh, relax, Sam," Lily said, waving a hand lazily. "It's just a book."

"Hey, asshole," I said, leaning closer towards her so I wouldn't have to talk so loud, "Keep your goddamn voice down and pull that book out from between your legs. I will not be expelled for a children's book."

Lily rolled her eyes and checked her Minnie Mouse watch. "Bell is about to ring. We should head back to the classroom."

She got up, and like a penguin, waddled out of the room. Anyone with half a brain could tell that she was walking with locked knees, and this would not do. She was going to give herself away, and would take me down with her.

I had no choice but to follow suit, hoping that if I penguined out of there, too, the librarian would think this was just how children normally walk.

Miss Perez was busy stamping things at the front desk but looked up when she heard us getting close. At that point and from behind the desk where she sat, Miss Perez couldn't see anything below Lily's waist, including her waddle. Unfortunately, she caught mine.

Miss Perez' eyes reduced to slits. I know Lily saw it, because I heard her almost inaudible gasp. Ghost Stories slid down from between her legs and landed softly right in front of my scuffed Mary Jane shoes. I stopped; Lily kept walking towards the exit and did not turn back. Et tu, Brute?

Miss Perez stood up with arms across her chest. The bell rang, signaling the end of recess. Too many things were happening at once. I froze.

"Are you alright?" Miss Perez asked, her hawk eyes fixated onto mine.

I nodded and swallowed. I could feel sweat starting to trickle down my forehead.

"Do your legs hurt?"

I shook my head. Please stay where you are! I silently prayed. If she stepped out from behind her desk, she would see Ghost Stories right in front of my feet. Evidence of a crime foiled. I could kick it, but there was no space between her desk and the floor. To my right was the exit, and to the left was the rest of the library. There was no direction I could kick the damn book away and not incriminate myself. I could pick it up and pretend like I had just found it there, then hand it to her and be thanked for my effort.

Before I could do anything, Miss Perez said, "Can you spin around slowly for me?"

Shit! Slowly, I turned, keeping my arms plastered to my side. "Miss, the bell just rang. I need to go back to my classroom," I said timidly around 180 degrees.

As soon as I stepped back into place, my heart dropped to my feet. I felt myself turning white. Miss Perez had leaned over her desk and was staring at Ghost Stories, which was still in front of me.

I couldn't even make up a lie. I couldn't tell her that I just found it and was going to pick it up to return to her. As if on slow motion, she looked back up at me and shook her head in disappointment. From a distance, I could hear my future college recommendation letters being ripped and a jail cell opening up for me.

What followed was a blur. Miss Perez wrote a note for the teacher in my classroom, letting her know that I was going to be in the library and to please excuse me from class. She sent her assistant off with it. She made me sit on a stool behind her desk, and had Ghost Stories on her lap where she sat across me. I was silent for the most part, except when I had to tell her which classroom I was assigned to. She didn't even ask for my name; she simply grabbed my ID that was slung around my neck and copied my name down on a Post It.

I tried to tune out what was happening, but was failing at it. My mind was trying to think of ways to squirrel out of the situation that landed on my feet. Lily, that turncoat motherfucker. I was not aware that I was absent-mindedly nodding at every question Miss Perez had been asking, because I was jerked back into the present when she nudged my arm with a pen and a piece of paper.

"Huh?" I looked at her with wide eyes.

She looked annoyed. "I said write down the titles of the other books that you've stolen," she repeated slowly.

Wait. WHAT?

"N--no," I stammered. What had I said yes to? Was this legal? She didn't read me my Miranda Rights. Where was my lawyer? God damn it, I wanted my one phone call! 

"Samantha, you just said that you have stolen more than one book this school year," she said. "List down the titles. I'm going to have to let the principal know, then she can call your parents."

"But I didn't," I pleaded.

"So you lied?" She crossed her arms again and leaned back against her chair.

I shook my head. How the frickle frackle did this just get more complicated? "No--I mean. I didn't steal a book. Not that one," I pointed to Ghost Stories, "and not anything else!"

I could feel my eyes getting hot and my vision getting blurry. This was all Lily's fault! How come Miss Perez didn't send her bloodhound assistant for Lily? She deserved to be on this seat.

"Samantha, you don't have to lie. It's okay." She held the pen and paper out to me again. It's okay, she said, but her eyes exuded menace. I refused to take the pen and paper, which only made her sigh in irritation.

I also refused to talk without the presence of my lawyer, so Miss Perez had no choice but to send me back to my classroom after the bell rang, signaling the end of the class that I had missed.

Lily didn't show herself for the rest of the day, and I was too angry to conduct a manhunt for her after school was over. I was called back into the library before the last period ended anyway. Miss Perez handed me a sealed envelope with instructions to give it to my parents to read and sign, then return to her the next day. I had a feeling I knew what was in that letter, and handing it over to my parents would not benefit me in any way.

I considered running away from home forever. But that would prove tricky since the security guards at the gate would never allow a child to exit the premises without a guardian. I could jump into a truck that was picking up one of my schoolmates, but I was too short to stealthily climb onto the back.

During the ride back home in the Mitsubishi L300 that I carpooled in, I stayed quiet. I didn't bother listening to Stella summarizing to Blanche the latest chapter of the Sailor Moon manga she had read that day. I didn't sing along when the radio station played Bohemian Rhapsody at 5:30 on the dot. I hung my head low and focused on ways to place a hit on Lily with my savings of fifty pesos and without having her assassination come back to me.

At home, our maid Marivic greeted me. I could pull her into my scheme--she could pretend to be my mom. She would understand. She was like my best friend at home. She was also a teenager, and I looked nothing like her.

My grandmother, who liked to be called Auntie Diday, instructed me to wash up and get ready for dinner. I had no appetite, but I went through the motions anyway. I did not even want to watch cartoons or do homework. Auntie Diday would never ride along. She was too strict.

I was zombied out for the rest of the day. Before bedtime, I crept into my parents' bedroom and placed the letter on their bed. Perhaps they would remember what a well-behaved and timid daughter I had been for the ten years they'd had me and let me off the hook with little to no punishment. Like Lily a.k.a. the reincarnation of Marcus Brutus said, "Relax....it's just a book."

My parents should be proud their daughter stole was accused of stealing a book. Not drugs, not money, not jewelry--A BOOK! My thirst for much knowledge should be celebrated, not punished. Granted, it was a book of ghost stories, but a book is a book!

The next morning, I found the envelope on the living room table. It had been opened and presumably signed. I was not going to open it and satisfy my curiosity. Deep down, I believed that if I ignored that letter, or at least avoided looking at its contents, the whole debacle would go away. I stuffed the letter into my stroller and asked Marivic to wait outside for the carpool with me.

"It's a bit too early to go outside, little miss," she informed me.

I shrugged. "It's okay. I need the sunshine."

"Okay," she said, and took my stroller for me. I immediately rushed to the gate before she could even grab my lunchbox, too.

In truth, I just wanted to get out of the house and avoid my parents before they woke up.

When I arrived at school, I headed straight for the library with the envelope in my pocket. I silently handed it to Miss Perez, whom I swear had a satisfied smirk on her face. I stood there as she opened the letter, nodded here and there, and folded it once again with barely an expression on her impassive face.

"You may go," she said.

I hightailed it out of there. And I made a promise to myself to never set foot in that library ever again, except to return The Cucumber King and the two other books I had loaned. I would have to live with never having read Ghost Stories, the cursed book that landed me in this bitch of a situation.

As I made my way back into my classroom, I caught sight of Lily standing by her armchair in her own classroom. She and I locked eyes. Hers went wide while mine narrowed as thin as the blade that Brutus had stabbed Caesar with. She turned away, and I continued walking.

That night, my parents came home early. I should have ran away when I had the chance.

"Little miss, your mom and dad asked to see you in their room," Marivic said when she found me in the basement where the maids and I slept. I thought that if I stayed out of their sight, they would forget I existed. Same as the envelope.

I groaned and resigned to my fate.

I tried to tune my parents out, too. They were furious, I guess. They didn't yell at me, and I didn't take a belt to the butt. I got something worse: the disappointed look. You know how that feels, when your parents give you the look that says "Where did we go wrong in raising you?"

They lectured me about stealing. They asked if I was harboring stolen books, to which I said no. They told me never to do it again. My mom was much calmer than my dad during the whole thing. He wanted to punish me, but my mom kept reminding him that I was only ten and it was just a book. I was grateful that my parents didn't do the whole grounding thing--my entire childhood was pretty much me being grounded, although I didn't know it then. The term was, I believe, "sheltered". I did not have a Gameboy or video games so they had nothing fun they could deprive me of. So they merely sent me back to my room. I was glad to. I was not in the mood to watch soap operas that night anyway.

I never could shake away the secret title of book thief from my rep. No one really knew except Miss Perez, my parents, probably the principal, and Lily. My parents transferred me to another school during fifth grade.

The doormat in me kept me from snitching on Lily. I took that blow like a chump. The moral of the story? If you're not a penguin, don't waddle.