Something filled up inside of Janet. “Because I want to be a mother,” she told me. “I always have. It’s why I got into teaching. It’s why I got married.” Her voice rose a bit and she sat up straighter. She was getting a far off look in her eye. “I’ve been trying to fill up this part of myself. I’ve always had this instinct, this desire, this need. And so much of my life up till now has been trying to fill this void.”

“You’re a teacher,” I said. “A role model.”

Janet missed the point. “And that’s not enough,” she said. “I don’t want to just help somebody else’s kid. I want one of my own. The divorce helped me realize it. I need to mother someone.”

“You need to baby someone.” I didn’t even remember saying it. The words seemed to come from outside of me.

Janet cocked an eyebrow. “What’s the difference?”

I just started shaking my head and couldn’t stop. I was feeling a strange blend of fear, righteous fury, and even pity. Janet- my friend Janet who had helped save me not once, but twice. Who respected me as a person, and geeked out about a silly T.V. show with me and had become a growing part of my professional and personal life- really was just a typical Amazon. And in that moment I kind of hated her for it.

“It’s wrong,” I said. “It’s just wrong. And I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.”

Her arms crossed over her chest. “Mature Littles deserve all the responsibilities of everyone else,” she told me. “I buy from Mature Littles online all the time. At least twice a month!”

“Wow.” I said, finding my voice. “Just wow. Mature Littles deserve all the responsibilities of everyone else. You keep track of how often you patronize us online. Do you know how that sounds? Do you?!” I wasn’t shouting, but I was damn near close.

“Clark, I-”

“You just communicated to me that you have three types of people. Littles, so-called Immature Littles, and everyone else. How many Amazons do you buy from? How many Tweeners?”

“I don’t-”

“Do you know how that sounds?! How…how…” I cut myself off. “And this whole Maturosis thing! Do you hear yourself?! You say that my ‘Maturosis hasn’t expressed itself’?!”

“It hasn’t, has i-?”

“So I’m not a permanent baby yet, but I could turn into one?”

“Not all Littles-”
“Or if I never turn into one, you think I could pass it on if I ever had kids?” I hadn’t even realized it but I was pacing, and pulling at my hair. I was ranting. “It was bad enough when I was growing up when Littles were adopted because they couldn’t conform to some bullshit idea of being an adult!” I was definitely ranting. I didn’t care. “We were still blamed whenever we ended up caught and diapered, but at least Amazons pretended to be fair about it. NOW WITH THIS MATUROSIS HORSESHIT IT’S NOT A MATTER OF ‘IF’, IT’S A MATTER OF ‘WHEN’, AND IT CAN NEVER HAPPEN TO AMAZONS BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE THE IMAGINARY DISEASE! IT’S NOT FAIR!” I even stomped my foot at the last word.

“Clark,” Janet sounded offended. Good. “Don’t say that kind of stuff.”

“Or what?!” I snapped. I lowered my voice down to a growl. “What are you gonna do? Put me in time out? Spank me?”

Janet stood up and I flinched. Actually flinched. “I think you should go.”

I was shaking. “I think I should too.”

I turned around and reached up for the knob. “Wait,” she said. “One question.”

I whipped my head around. “What?” The fire was burning inside of me but I had regained some measure of control.

“If you hate Amazons adopting Littles so much,” Janet asked, looking down at me. “Why are you here?”

I wanted to tell her what I’d told Cassie time and time again. That I was here to make a difference. That I wanted to teach Amazons that Littles didn’t deserve to be babied. That I was making a slow change and positive impact in my community, if not the world. Somehow, those practiced lines all felt hollow in my head. “What choice do I have?”

“You want to know what I think?”

I didn’t. “What?”

“You get a thrill out of it.” Janet said. “You get a rush out of outwitting the Raine Forrests of the world. You’re a good teacher, but you just love showing off how clever you are by messing with the Amazons. Or how brave you are by drinking Beouf’s coffee. Or how patient you can be teaching next to the Little’s classroom. Or how fierce you can be when you make Zoge cry. Or how hip you can be when you hang out and make jokes with Tracy.”

I stood there. Shocked. Speechless.

She kept going. “Everyday you come to school you’re jumping out of an airplane. And every time, the idea that your chute might not open gets you just a tad bit excited. And everytime it does open, you’re just a tiny bit disappointed. If Amazons are as bad as you seem to think, you’d have never taken this job if you had an inch of common sense.”