“Oh crap!” I covered my mouth, and hoped my mother hadn’t heard me. I glanced over my shoulder, then headed toward my bed. I was so busy unpacking, I didn’t realize what time it was, until I looked at the clock on my night table. “Shoot, I’m going to be late. What’s wrong with me?” I threw the clothes I had just folded on my bed. “Why am I always late? Can I be on time just once.” I grabbed my jacket and headed for the stairs. I ran down the steps, sometimes taking two at a time, and shoved my arms into my jacket.
“Where do you think you’re going?” my mother asked, stopping me at the bottom of the stairs. I turned, and saw her standing in the middle of the hallway, with her arms folded across her chest. I sighed, and then took a deep breath. “I’m going for a bike ride; with my new friends, remember.” She put her hands on her hips. “They’re going to show me where Saint Andrews is.”
“Did you finish unpacking?” she asked, giving me that look she always gives me, when she disapproves of something I did, or something I haven’t done and should have.
“No, not yet,” I bit at a piece of dry skin off my bottom lip. “I’m almost done though,” I smiled, but she didn’t smile back. “Mom, can you buy me some Chap Stick, I can’t find mine and my lips are really chapped?”
“I’ll get you one when I go to the store,” she looked at my face. “Don’t lick your lips. That only makes it worse.”
“I’ll try not to,” I glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Make sure you finish when you get back, I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to at least, have your room unpacked before you start school tomorrow,” she raised her eyebrow.
“I will, I promise. Can I go now? They’re waiting for me.”
“Don’t forget to be home when the street lights come on.”
“I won’t,” I rushed through the hallway and into the kitchen. “Bye, Mom!” I shouted over my shoulder. I grabbed the small flash light that was on the kitchen counter, shoved it in my pocket, and headed for the back door.