Snakes Don't Bite Their Owners

Becoming the Devil's Shadow (my mother will NOT leave me alooonee)

Running away is harder than you might think.

My mother hasn't taken her eyes off me since the incident. Turns out, you don't actually need to see the coffee jug to pour it... or the road to drive on it. Mother's are fascinating creatures.

It's kind of difficult to leave the house and get on a bus to a random town you've never heard of, where you fall madly in love with some cute boy who you run away to Norway with to start a life together and raise your three children: Helga, Osmond, and Mattress... when you never get any time to yourself and you can't leave the house unless you have parental supervision.

Maybe running away isn't the best idea. Where would I even go? And how would I get there? I can't drive, I have no money, (actually that is incorrect, I have approximately 3 dollars and 27 cents left over from a time where I won a bet with my father that I couldn't eat a boiled egg in one bite - I spent the rest of the 10 bucks on a submarine which I bought online that turned out to be a total fake) and breaking the law is off the table.

Speaking of tables... oh my, how they have turned. I thought my friendship with Roger was two-sided, but I guess he doesn't care about our relationship as much as I thought he did. I still CANNOT believe he just turned on me like that, betraying 15 years of companionship and trust. Guess it's time to find a new best friend.

"HaRrRiIiETttttTT, time for ScChHhOooOllL."

Great. Back to boring lectures and bullies.

"HuRry uP yOu'Re GonNa Be lATe."

I rush to stuff my backpack with broken pens, ripped books, and crumpled up pieces of paper that may or may not be full of doodles of spooky houses and telephone wires. I also make sure to pack my emergency escape gear: rope, torch, carrots, money, pocket knife e.t.c... Not that I'm still planning on running away or anything... it's just in case.

3 minutes later my mother is backing the minivan out of the driveway, while simultaneously using her x-ray vision to analyse the contents of my backpack. She seems suspicious, but not enough so to investigate further. I guess I'm safe for now.

Except, approximately 8 minutes later I am about to exit said vehicle when my mother decides to open her door and get out.

"Um, what are you doing?" She sticks her snobby nose in the air and strides around the hood of the car, meeting me on the sidewalk just meters from the front door of the school. "Mom?"

"I'm taking you to class." 

"What? I'm not a toddler, I can walk to class myself."

"Are you sure about that, Harriet." Oh terrific, the mom stare... just what I needed to make the day seem so much more joyous. "I just can't risk you pulling a daft stunt and acting like a hooligan."

"Mom, really? It's like 20 meters."

"Don't speak to me in that tone young lady. I am taking you to class and that's that."

"But mom, it's..."

"Auhp. Not another word."

This totally sucks. I might as well have just dressed up in a clown suit with 'LOSER' written in black sharpie on a piece of lined paper stuck to my back. This is possibly the most humiliated I've ever been in my whole entire life... probably. 

I was not spared of finger-pointing and laughter as I commenced my walk of shame. It ended with my mother having a serious chat with my teacher, Mr Horblados, about how I was to be fully supervised at all times cause I'm a very naughty child who should be shunned and punished for eternity... and finally a sympathetic look from my ex-best friend to make me feel even more like a vagabond outcast.

What a great way to start the day.