Excuse Me, Miss Mills?

Chapter 10

My parents always went to their bedroom to sleep at 9 on the dot on weeknights. They weren't crazy old but their jobs had them waking up early so they went to sleep really early. It was annoying because they usually expected me to go to sleep early, too.

Their typical punctuality with their sleep schedule was a constant, but obviously on a night I was trying to sneak out of the house they were running behind. 16 minutes behind to be precise. The motel Miss Mills had given me the address of was 28 minutes away from my house, so I had to get out of the house and leave within the next 16 minutes to get to the motel by 10 exactly. I watched the display of the clock in the corner of my computer screen as I listened to my parents bumble around.

"Seriously Mary Margaret, where could they have gone?" Dad called out from downstairs.

"I don't know," she yelled back. "Have you checked under the key hooks in the shoe rack?"

"At least thirty times!"

"I don't know what to tell you then, David."

I was cursing under my breath. Not only did I need them to go to bed, but I needed them to find the keys they'd been searching for. Of course the night I needed to sneak out and take the car they were awake and had lost the damn things.

I heard my dad moving through the house talking to himself. When a string of curses floated up from downstairs my mom shouted, "David! Watch your language!" down to him. He called up a sheepish apology and lowered his voice. I could still hear him talking to himself and bumbling around but now I couldn't make out what he was saying.

The clock read 9:23. I had nine minutes to be in the car and pulling out of the driveway if I wanted to be there precisely at 10.

"Aha!"

The triumphant cry came from the first floor and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"They were wedged in the couch cushions, honey!" Dad called up the stairs.

"Good," Mom said, "now get up here. I'm tired and don't want to listen to you clomping around anymore."

I heard Dad's footsteps on the stairs and as he made his way past my room he waved and said, "Good night, princess," before heading to their room.

"They must've been in my back pocket and fallen out into the cushions when I sat down," I heard him say before I heard the click of their door shutting.

The second I heard that click I shut down my computer and practically lunged for my shoes and my bag. I didn't put my shoes on just yet, instead carrying them as I crept out of my room and down the hall. The stairs and first floor weren't carpeted so my sneakers would make too much noise on the wood, but my socks would be silent.

I made it downstairs and to the key hooks by the side door, snagged Dad's car keys, and headed out for the truck. We only had the one vehicle because Dad dropped Mom off at work every day, and though I'd been trying to convince them to buy me a car since I'd gotten my license I hadn't had any luck with it.

I checked my phone to see the time and breathed a sigh of relief—9:30. I'd be out of the driveway in time to be there with a minute or two to spare if I didn't hit any traffic. And it was almost ten at night—I wasn't bound to hit much in Storybrooke.

I got to the truck and tried my hardest to open the door, get in, and close it again as quietly as possible. The really nerve-racking part was actually starting the damn thing. It roared to life like a beast from prehistoric times and I hit the pedal as quickly as possible, hoping my parents would assume it was someone else driving by. If they heard it at all—once they were in bed they were out like a light and heavy sleepers. I just hoped they'd fallen asleep right away.