Summer 1996, I had a new friend and she was wild. I remember I'd never really hung out away from home, so it was always an adventure traveling around the neighborhood with her. I remember the guys talking to me and surprised that I was actually socializing. They used to call me "90210", and it would piss me off since clearly we were no where near Beverly Hills. So this friend would somehow find all types of crazy things to get into each day, she hated being at home, but she never had any money. I had money without the information, so you can see how this pairing was beneficial to both of us.
Her mother had a ton of kids and she was the eldest, not to mention the mothers boyfriend was a weirdo. One night she came to my window because the boyfriend was hitting her mom and she wanted to run away. I'd convinced her to stay and we'd figure something out. Soon after her mother and the boyfriend broke up, but something changed in our friendship. She started borrowing my clothes and then wouldn't return them, or I'd have to harass her to get them back. Then she started stealing money from me, like if I'd go to the bathroom or step away and ask her to hold my bag, I'd later have less money than I THOUGHT I had. You know when you have that moment calculating each dollar you spent in order to comprehend the amount of cash in your possession? And I could never add it up, til I factored "sticky fingers".
I hate thieves, for two reasons; one is because I never get away with anything lol. I can see a million people do something and nothing ever happens, the moment I do it, the necessary authorities are right there to catch me. Which isn't bad, because the awareness of that keeps me on the "straight and narrow". The other reason is my mother, she'd come home from her "journey" and come to my room to "catch up" yet lo and behold she's "casing the joint", she'd leave and soon after I'd realize various things are "missing". One day I got smart and put a lock on my bedroom door and when she came around I'd talk to her outside or in the living room.
Somehow everyone decides that this particular friend isn't "good enough" to hang out with, my mother comes and steals some very sentimental things and my friend's mother gets back with the boyfriend. Needless to say we were both ready to run away, she tells a mutual friend to come to my house with a message. I didn't care for this girl, but she appeared to be the family favorite so she was able to visit without question. So she tells me where to meet so we could finally talk without anyone spying, we came up with a plan to leave. So late that night I started packing, she didn't explain that this wasn't the time to be materialistic. It took me forever and I had too much shit. I try to reduce it to the basics and we're off. I remember stopping at her house, we snuck in by the window and hid under her bed. Sure enough the next morning I hear my Dad and my aunt pull up, they bang on the door and confront the mother. She's letting them know that I'm not there, but refused to let them in, on some level I knew if they found me there someone was going to die. I called my house and told my grandmother to have them meet me around the corner at a burger place and I went home. I don't remember how long they sat there before my grandmother informed them that I was home already, but they were pissed!
I'd never seen my dad that upset with me, he actually slapped me in the face. I didn't know how to process that, my Father never spanked me, actually no one did really, well there were a few and extremely far between. The first time I was spanked, I knew it was just to "put me in my place" which didn't work. The times after that resulted in fights, so that shit stopped quickly! However this situation with my Dad, something in me knew that I'd gone too far. I made up my mind right then that I would never put my Father in that position again.
Once the dust settled, I moved in with my Dad and the adventures just get crazier.
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