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Amy could barely hold it anymore. The plan had to be put into action now. She cast a quick glance at Alice, who was happily and carefreely picking flowers. Now or never. Amy pushed herself up from the ground and ran toward the house. Her mother was probably in the kitchen.
The strong urge that had already been there before became unbearable with the sudden movement. She felt the muscles that had been holding back begin to tremble and tighten painfully. The feeling of panic was real, even though she had caused it herself. By the time she reached the patio door, it was already almost too late.
“Mom! MOM, I really have to go!” Amy cried desperately, fumbling with trembling hands at the zipper and stubborn button of her jeans, which was hard enough even when she wasn’t pretending.
Her mother, who was standing in the kitchen, turned around in surprise. “Amy? Why are you running like that? Just hurry and go to the bath—”
Her mother’s sentence was cut off. Amy didn’t make it. A warm rush escaped before the button gave way. Her jeans darkened instantly. The first thing her mother saw wasn’t Amy’s sad face, but the spreading dark patch that quickly soaked the front of her pants. Amy let out a faint and only half faked whimper.
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