Mother turned quickly from the sink, and I saw them exchange a deeply meaningful look. I was used to it. I'd noticed that adults rarely said all they knew, and they often seemed to suggest, with what they did say, that they were holding back a great amount of knowledge, even if they weren't. This dubious skill was apparently a cardinal attribute of being an adult. By the age of ten, I'd already heard enough about the cruelty of children, but no one ever mentioned the fact that with children, cruel or not, it was a lot easier to know where you stood. I'd also learned that there was status to be gained by acquiring and controlling more and more information, then holding as much as possible close to your chest. Meanwhile, all over the world, teachers, preachers, and scoutmasters exhorted children to tell the truth -- it was even a Commandment -- and from the way they stressed it, you would think they were actually afraid that children might grow up to become this rare and hideous spectacle, the adult who kept secrets. But of course children could see quite early that everybody grew into an adult who kept secrets.

Excerpted from Prince Edward © Copyright 2004 by Dennis McFarland. Reprinted with permission by Henry Holt & Co. All rights reserved.