It was only about nine when I pulled into the driveway. As I turned off the ignition, I peered out of the side window to see that the house was dark. Not one light was on. It was like I had pulled up at some ungodly hour like four a.m.
I stumbled out of the car and made my way over to the front door. Hopefully the door was unlocked, if not, I was screwed. I would be sleeping in the backseat of the car for the rest of the night. This could result in someone breaking in, and potentially raping me or dragging me away to my death since we were in a foreign country.
Reaching the door, I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle. Nothing. I pulled a bit harder. Nothing. I pushed against the door, but still it stayed right where it was. The door was locked. My parents had locked the door while their daughter roamed the streets of St. Albans, in a foreign country where no one knew who I was.
Yes, I think this just proves how crazy my parents, especially my mom, are. Great parenting guys.
I groaned. “I cant believe this. Really?” I slammed harder into the wooden door, but nothing happened except for a throbbing in my shoulder. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pound on the door and make a big scene just to wake my mom up, but I knew I would be in even more trouble if I did that.
It was no use. I turned back towards the road, and all that could be heard was the drone of the crickets in the tall grass. I had three options. I could either: A) Go back to the car, drive all the way back to St. Albans and try to find that weird guy who used me to catch his falling milkshakes, B) Sleep in the car until morning when my parents finally come to their senses, unless of course I’m dead from potential rapists, or C) Find another way into the house.
I decided to go with the ladder and try to stake out another entrance. I remember from grade school when we had “Fire Safety Week” when every fireman would tell us that there was always more than one entrance into the house. I never would have thought I would be using this information to actually break into my own house instead of escape it.
As I walked along the side of the house, I searched for any sort of back door or window for me to climb into. Even a dog door would be useful at this moment. Hopefully I was skinny enough to fit through one of those without getting stuck.
Approaching the back side of the house, I tripped over the dirt and fell face first into the grass.
Great, just great.
I laid there for a few seconds just contemplating on the idea of just lying here until they found me. My chest hurt, and I’m pretty sure my chin was bleeding from the impact of the ground. That’s when I looked up and saw my brother’s window about three feet away from me.
Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? Of course Matt’s room was downstairs. I was the only one who had a room upstairs.
Heaving myself up, and wiping as much dirt as possible off of my jeans and shirt, I scrambled to his window. I felt like I had carpet burn.
Without a second thought, I banged frantically on the glass until I heard him groan and stumble over to the window. He barely had his eyes open, and he mustered a yawn.
“You better get out of here before I call the police.”
Did he think I was some robber? He can see me plain as day through this window. It wasn’t rocket science. But I’m pretty sure I did look like a thief from all of my bleeding and dirt smeared across my clothes.
“How are you going to do that? You don’t have a working phone!” I hissed at him.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just licked his lips, and rubbed his eyes. How long had he been asleep? It wasn’t even ten yet. I shifted my weight back and forth from each foot.
