Fugitive (ON HOLD)

I

"Claire", for the last time, the answer is no!" My mother shouts, looking at me sternly before turning back around to face the stove.

I glare at the back of her head. "It's just a party, Mom! What's the worse that can happen?" I question, shoveling the rest of my breakfast into my mouth. Ever since the... incident, as she called it, she hasn't let me go to any parties, sleepovers, or any public get together since then.

It's not my fault I went to a party without her consent when I was fifteen. It's not my fault I went to the party of a criminal. Okay, maybe it was my fault, but that was in the past. I'm sixteen now and I can be trusted. Though, my bull headed mother seems to think differently.

I'm trying to get her to let me go to my best friend, Rachel's, birthday party. Of course, any good friend would want to be there, right? My mom still didn't trust me, though. I continued to glare as she turned once again to face me from where she now stood, the kitchen counter.

"Claire, I know you want to go but it simply isn't an option. It's not because I don't trust your judgement, it's just that I want you safe," she says, tucking a piece of her short blonde hair behind her ear.

Bullshit, I think to myself, rolling my eyes.

"Are you listening to me?" Mom asks, her slender eyebrow raising up accusingly.

I just sigh, shaking my head and leaving the kitchen before she can say anything else. I go upstairs to my bedroom to change into my clothes; a red t-shirt, black shorts that stop just above the middle of my thighs, and my black vans. I take a look at my reflection, my tall slender form taking up space in the mirror. I've always been envied for my body but I've never seen any reason for jealousy.

I look like shit in the morning and after a bit of freshening up I look acceptable. No one really wakes up looking amazing. According to everyone, I'm, well, beautiful. I take a look at my makeup-less face. My eyes are a hazel some days and some days they're just blue. Today they're the latter. My hair is dark brown and reaches my chest. My face looks like a regular face. Pointed nose, pale pink lips, the usual. I really don't see a difference in me than anyone else.

______________________

I'm now standing outside at the bus stop, my eyes closed as I soak in the sun. One good thing of living in Sydney, Australia instead of America, where I had moved from, is the warm weather in the usually cold months. It's October now and I know it's cold in New York, where I moved from. I love summer and I love sun, so I love Australia. I open my eyes when I hear footsteps approaching me. It's Ashton, another one of my close friends.

"Hey, Easton," he flashes one of his infamous grins, his dimples poking into his cheeks, as he greets me by my last name.
I smile as well and get onto the bus once it pulls up. "Hi, Irwin. Actually on time today, I see." I giggle softly, plopping down in my usual seat by the window.

He sits next to me and rolls his eyes.
"My folks said if I don't start getting to school on time, they'd take my car," he says as an answer.

I just smile at him, shaking my head. I don't know why he doesn't just take his car to school.

"So here I am. If I lose the car then I can't go to Rachel's party," Ashton says, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "You're going, right?" He asks, saying the three words I knew that were coming.
I let out an irritated breath of air, glaring at the seat in front of me.
"My mom won't let me go. I swear to God, I can't wait until I can move out. Be my own woman," I complain, shaking my head again.

Ashton frowns as he listens. Then he shrugs. "Just go with me. If you go to the party, you can have fun and then deal with your mum's yelling later," he rationalized, giving me a devilish grin. "C'mon, Easton, you aren't that stupid are you?" He questions, laughing a little.