The Dream Catchers

| o n e |

>Josie<

Reason 1 to never go back:

They didn't believe in us.

☾

We all knew what they'd say. They'd laugh in our faces, and call us foolish. They'd say it was ridiculous, and that we were young and stupid. So, we didn't tell them. But we believed. We dared to clench on to these dreams because in all reality, they were all we had.

Our parents wanted us to go to college and be teachers, lawyers, doctors, to get into advertising, business or other normal things like that.

But us? That wasn't really us at all.

I checked my cellphone; 2:45 am, it said. I sighed, 15 minutes till she gets here. Grabbing my suitcase, I stuffed all my clothes I set aside and placed them in, along with my lyric book, my guitar picks, and all the demo CDs I had made up a few weeks before. All my favorite shoes, and a few of my favorite books. We really didn't have much room at all.

I couldn't pack earlier today because they'd notice. My parents and my prying sister. So I didn't have time until now.

I quickly got down on my knees and reached under my bed until my fingertips hit the coffee can I had stashed under there. All the money I'd ever made when I was working at Taco Hell, I mean-Bell from when I was 16 till now.

I froze when I heard the hall floorboards creek, and listened for a few seconds, then nothing; I was safe. I stored the money into a suitable compartment in my bag, and continued shoving anything else that would fit in there; headphones, my speaker dock for my iPod, beauty products, my straightener, and the toiletries I bought at Target the day before.

I checked my phone again, 8 minutes to go. Grabbing a black sharpie, I stood on my bed and starting scrawling across my bedroom wall. In large, scrawling letters I wrote, "Went to chase my dream, don't look for me."

I made the letters thick and dark. It might be a little dramatic, but my parents should be used to it, after all.

My phone vibrated, notifying a text,

>here< it read.

I crept into the kitchen, wincing at the popping of the floorboards. Channeling my inner ninja, I crouched down and tiptoed my way across the kitchen towards the island counter. I grabbed my father's leather wallet and took out all the cash he had out of it before stuffing it into my bra.

"I'm going to hell." I whispered to myself as I snuck a few snacks we had laying around in the cupboards.

Just as the last of the packaged goods was shoved in my bag, I heard my parents' mattress bed springs squeak. I slammed my back against the wall and waited, praying and thanking God when I heard no other noises. If they were going to walk down the hall, I would have heard it. Our floorboards squeaked with every step, that's why when I was younger I always knew where to step on so I'd be prepared for kidnappers and intruders.

I went out the door and stepped out, closing it as quietly as possible. I was so nervous, the house had one floor only, and with my parents occupying the room down the hall, they could've easily caught me.

As my feet hit the driveway I couldn't help but smile as I saw the dark blue convertible sitting with the headlights off in my front driveway. I soundlessly shoved my bags in the trunk and ran to the passenger seat.

"Shit," Lena whispered, as she whipped out of my driveway, "I thought for sure they caught you. You didn't reply to my text."

I didn't speak until we got off my street, I knew it was stupid, but I thought there was a chance they could hear me.