It's the quiet ones you gotta watch out for.

This just surfaced as my mother was straightening her photo albums. Early 1983, aged 10, reading Judy Blume while talking to my grandmother on the phone. This little nerd was already developing a repertoire of "You're not allowed to read that yet"-book-sneaking skills. At the moment this picture was taken, I had either Firestarter, The Valley of Horses, or Memoirs of an Ex-Prom Queen hidden in my backpack. (I'm not allowed to read a book? Says you.)