I know! I’ll sneak out. That’s what my friends did. I had been too chicken to try it, plus our hardwood floors creaked in certain places. With my bedroom down the hall from my parent’s room, it seemed like an impossible mission. But maybe not.
Running away was an option. Leave my ungrateful, irrational, prohibitive and unreasonable parents and show them I could make it on my own. Or maybe Pete and I could leave together. That sounded romantic.
I closed my eyes. Who was I kidding? I was too young to make that work with my meager savings—and while still stuck in high school. But the sneaking out? That I could do. I sat back down on my bed and planned.
The following night, I walked the short distance to Mary’s house for dinner. Since my allotted weekend night with Pete fell on Saturday—tomorrow—I made plans to see my friend instead.
I plopped down on her bed. “Did you call him?”
“You’re all set. You okay?”
“I’m frustrated and angry. My parents are being total jerks.”
“Part of their job description.”
“Yours seem pretty cool. In fact, everyone else’s parents strike me as better than mine.”
Mary shook her head and made a face. “Mine can be difficult, too. Yours are just in the limelight at the moment.”
I scowled. “You can say that again.”
“Let’s take a walk.”
I puffed on one of Mary’s cigarettes, taking pleasure in inhaling the smoke. It would tick off my parents. Way worse, actually. “We’re meeting at midnight?”
“Yup. Pete will meet you at the corner. I’ll catch up with you at Joaquin Miller Park with everyone else.”
I enjoyed dinner at Mary’s and talking with her family. They didn’t ask inane questions or treat me like a child. We spent time in her room afterward but I didn’t linger, antsy for my master escape plan to be implemented.
“I better get going, so I can make this look legit,” I said.
I thanked Mary’s parents and my friend walked me to the door. “See you soon,” she singsonged. “And good luck.”
I unwrapped a piece of grape bubble gum and tossed it into my mouth, chewing quickly to mask any remaining scent of nicotine on my breath, and trotted home.
I murmured a greeting to my mom and dad, shuffling past them and into my bedroom. They were absorbed in some British show on public television, leaving me off the hook for forced conversation.
I kicked off my sneakers and sat on the floor, putting on my headphones and flipping over the Van Halen II album on my turntable. I cranked it up, letting the sounds of Eddie Van Halen’s riffing guitar and David Lee Roth’s raspy vocals take me somewhere else. I flipped off the light and stretched out on my back, gazing out my window at the smattering of clouds drifting by a full moon.
At 11:02 I climbed into bed dressed, pulled the covers up to my neck, and waited. My folks padded off to bed, and as they passed my bedroom, their muted voices mused I must be asleep. It smacked of the kind of self-satisfaction I figured parents got when something validated their behavior.
Not this time, Mom and Dad.
The numbers flipped on my digital clock, which I painfully inventoried one by one. Although a minute is sixty seconds no matter the circumstance, it sure seemed like more than an hour. At midnight I stealthed out of bed, slid on my sneakers and eased open the window, one inch at a time. An indiscreet screech rang out. I held my breath and waited for my father to come flying through my door, but he didn’t.
I swung my leg out, followed by the rest of my body, and lowered myself until my feet found purchase on top of the first story window ledge. My heart thumped like a bass drum in a marching band. My hands grabbed the overgrown ivy vines and I used them to creep further down, willing it to hold. I maneuvered myself to hang from the window, and jumped the remaining distance to the ground, landing squarely in my backyard. I prayed reentry would be just as seamless.
Making my way around the house to the street was a cinch. I waited a few counts and bolted to the sidewalk. I jogged to the corner and spotted Pete’s car. Relief slowly replaced the adrenaline. I hopped in and whooped.
“If it isn’t the little jailbird,” he said.
“Free at last!” I leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips, my breathing ragged from running.
“Tsk, tsk, what am I going to do with you?”
“Get me out of here, that’s what!”
“As you wish, my lady.”
As he took off toward the hills, I rolled down the window and gulped big breaths of air, my long hair splaying out along the current.
“Wah-hoooooooooooo!” I screamed into the darkness.
Pete grinned.
I slid next to him, resting my hand on his thigh, beaming. I’d succeeded! The proverbial good girl had done something bad, something defiant, something that would get me killed my by father if I got caught. I said a silent prayer as I cranked up Led Zeppelin on the radio.
By the time we pulled into the parking area at Joaquin Miller Park, a large assembly of friends had gathered, the party in full swing.
“Paisano!” Jim thundered with affection.
“Spaghetti girl!” Tez added.
Cheers flew out in the night, welcoming me. I grabbed a brew from Steve’s outstretched hand and meandered around greeting my friends.
“So the good girl’s gone rogue,” Reese teased.
“About time,” Jaime said, snickering.
“Cheers!” I thrusted my beer to the sky before drinking deeply. Boldly, I chugged it all. My friends went nuts, urging me on with their chants.
I drank several beers in succession, feeling wild and free. I could do whatever
