Circe's Challenge

My name is Circe Jones, and I was born on a Friday the 13th. Sometimes I like having a unique name that isn't just some other boring name spelled like my parents were not hooked on phonics, like Jazzmyn or Kaytlynn or the worst, Maddisyn. It's pronounced like Seer See, but lots of folks call me Kirky to start off with. And I've never found my name on a keychain in a store. But other than that, well, it's my name. I guess I'm used to it by now. I am a self rescuing Princess. I've even got the shirt that says so. I'll tell you how I earned it, but there's some backstory first, and some background. I used to be a decent kid. Then I wasn't. No, I don't come from a broken home (although it was sort of falling apart, but we'll get to that) or the ghetto or even a trailer park. Not that there's anything wrong with those places, mostly. Some of the best people I know grew up in a trailer park. And not a whole lot of ghettos in Colorado either. Not real ones, anyhow. But I was born on a Friday the 13th and named after a witch, so what did they expect? My parents have a dark sense of humor. But mostly that was my dad.

On my 11th birthday, my parents stretched their budget and got me a cell phone. It wasn't the newest iPhone, but it was what they could afford. I loved it anyways. I could call and text whoever I wanted. Until my parents caught me texting at 3 in the morning. Then they restricted my usage, or tried to. I snuck around with it because I could, and eventually they told me I had to hand it over every night. But I got good at either "losing" it before bed, or lying and telling them it was in my school backpack. But it wasn't. Then they started blocking things. First they took away my facebook account, so I made another. They eventually found it by snooping on my laptop, and really flew off the handle. I've basically been grounded pretty constantly since then. But they're so strict it's almost impossible not to break the rules.

That's pretty much how things went until I got to high school. I'd pretend to behave long enough to get some freedom back, then they'd find something else I did wrong and overreact. I'd been trying to be good, and I'd even joined the softball team in middle school, but I didn't do my school work enough. I barely passed my classes and almost got kicked off the team. When I started high school my parents told me I couldn't do any sports at all until I proved to them I could do well in school, because they just knew I could do it! But it was so boring. I skipped school. Just a few times at first, then a lot. I started smoking. Not like, crack or anything. Just weed and cigarettes. It helped me calm down, you know? My little brother and sister were such the perfect angels, and my parents obviously loved them more than me. They both even got to go play hockey. All I got was an older iPhone they locked down all the time and a bicycle. Ok, a brand new bicycle, while my dad rode one that's older than me.

Still, my parents always believed what those two little brats said over anything I said. I mean, maybe I lied a bunch, but they lied too, sometimes. And I learned from the best. My parents always told me if I behaved, then we'd do something. Go to the zoo, or the library, or whatever. Then they'd find something I'd done wrong and poof, no more whatever. It didn't even matter if I'd done it before they promised whatever it was, and they never believed I didn't do it! Money kept disappearing, and they blamed me! Ok, so maybe I took some of their cash, but it's not like they missed it right away anyhow. And besides, if they'd just bought me the stuff I was asking for, I wouldn't have to steal their money to get it! Or shoplift. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So yeah, High School. My attendance got bad enough that my vice principal wanted to have weekly progress meetings with me and my parents. Which wouldn't have been so bad if dad came, he's usually ok until I really screw up. But he worked nights, so mom usually came, and she's horrible. I swear she can't be my real mom, because she's totally a wicked stepmother type. She's always so disapproving of me. I think she's jealous of me, because it seems like sometimes dad would rather hang out with me than her. Which really just makes sense. All she does is bitch at him all the time. Like, literally. She barely does any housework! And since she doesn't have a job so she could be a stay at home mom, well. She was supposed to get a part time job after my baby sister got into school but she's been too lazy to bother. She started using me as an excuse, even. Like, she has to deal with my crap so she can't get a job. Whatever. It was only weekly meetings and picking me up from school every other week, and a few trips to court.