I removed my shoes before silently opening the back door, slipping inside, and standing still for a moment.
I didn’t really expect to get away with sneaking out, but it was fun to give it a shot.
Mom said I was getting out of control, but only because I didn’t want to live by her rules.
The harder she tried to crack down on me, the more fun it was to give her the finger. She was too uptight.
The problem was that I turned eighteen. There wasn’t too much she could do besides kick me out, but I hadn’t graduated from high school yet.
Plus, all her pious friends would judge her harshly for kicking her daughter out for breaking curfew a few times — or most weekend nights.
As I tiptoed through the living room, the light flicked on.
“This is getting ridiculous,” my stepfather, Aaron, said
