Chapter 2: Supplies Please

"Mom! I did my homework! Why do you have to argue about this every afternoon?" I held up my math homework that was filled with difficult equations and the answers circled next to the = sign.

My mom was always saying how I didn't do my homework and how I will become a bad student and not get into a good collage when I'm older. My dad always agrees with her by nodding his head behind the newspaper he always happens to read, and for some reason, I think he's looking at the same newspaper every day.

While growing up, I was always the good girl. I never spoke unless spoken to most of the time unless I was by myself in my room. I never touched anything in the house when my parents went out to dinner by themselves. I never talked back unless it was about homework that we always bickered about.

I was never let out of the house for some reason. I've never set foot out of the house door. I've never even looked out the windows. They were always closed by curtains and when I went to go look outside my mom would always snap at me and say that I was allergic to sunlight and that I'll die. I pretty much knew she was lying, though I was a good little girl and obeyed my mother.

"Mom, my homework is right in front of your face. Can't you see it?"

"I can."

"Then I did my homework!"

"I believe you have more to do."

"What!? I did my math, English, history, science, reading, and I did some physical exercises today! I even went into our gym room and did a couple flips! What more do you want mother?"

We have a giant house. Exactly like a mansion, though I haven't been in most of the rooms because they were either locked, or had a "DO NOT ENTER!" sign hanging on the shiny silver doorknobs.

I had my own room that was pretty large but no bigger than a room in a condo that's doubled. We have a gym where I work out and practice gymnastics with my gymnastics teacher and a studio where I practice my martial arts that are ancient and aren't taught anywhere else.

I eat my meals in my room usually because I'm not allowed in the kitchen at all. My homework is also done in there along with my reading and a bunch of other junk.

I also do random things in my room.

I sing my head off to my songs on my iPod that are awesome because I can get any songs anytime because we're rich. I also draw random poetic scenes like: a mirror river reflecting a cherry blossom tree with a purple and pink sky with blue/green grass.

"Go do your homework." my mom repeated looking down at her Dean Koontz book, By the Light of the Moon.

"What part of 'I finished my homework' don't you understand? Why don't you trust me? Even ask my tutors!"

"G-go...d-d-do...y-your ho-ho-homework." she stuttered while twitching her head and blinking her eyes. I swore I thought sparks fly from her ears.

"Uh...right." i said backing away slowly to the stairs with my papers in between my fingers.

I slipped up the stairs like a creature in the night slipping out from underneath your bed with the sound of my footsteps trailing up and down the stairs like a bouncy green ball that nigahiga advertised.

I walked into my room feeling weirded out just a little bit with the whole...act.

I sat at my desk and stared at the unscratched blue painted desk top that reflected a blurry image of my confused face.

I looked at my bed with the pirate skull blankets and pillow coverings, to my matching blinds, to my blue painted closet, to my purple walls, to my wardrobe that was half open. The final thing I looked at was my basket that was filled with my drawings that were my absolute favorite. I managed to pull out a drawing I drew when I was six years-old that had a boy on it. He had longer brown hair with a goofy smile on his face in a black and white plaid shirt. Connected to his back were the most awesome dragon wings anybody could ever draw. I was an exceptional artist when I was little and only advanced in my techniques.

I smiled at it and went to set it down but it scraped my finger and slit my skin a little deeper than I intended making a spot of blood sink into the white paper. I whined when I realized I couldn’t do anything about and set it next to me on my desk.

I turned my head and saw my covered window that had cardboard, tinfoil, and curtains showering the window making it so no drop of sunlight will make its way in my room.

Suddenly, I felt trapped.

I felt like a bird in a cage. A mouse behind bars. Too weak to escape the grasps of my owners.

I felt like a pet.

I had to do everything everyone said even though it was ridiculous like standing on my head until pigs fly. I never had accomplished that one.

I was never aloud to look through the windows, I was never allowed to go outside, and I was never aloud to go into some parts of the house. I wanted to have more privilege. I wanted to have more freedom.

I looked at a backpack that was thrown into the corner and thought about running away. It wasn’t a bad idea, but how would I escape if my parent were at the front door?

I looked at my window and at the scotch tape. I smiled.

“You going somewhere?” I heard a voice behind me and at once didn’t recognize it. It sounded like a male voice but too young to be one of my parents.

I slowly turned around and saw a boy.

A boy in a white and black plaid shirt with longer brown hair and a goofy smile on his face. I was surprised I didn’t see dragon wings.

“W-who are you?” I asked with my eyes squinted.

“Look at the paper on your desk.” he said looking at my desk so I looked down and saw the picture of him with the dragon wings.

“No way.” I said unbelievingly.

“Yes way.”

“You’re actually real?”

“I am now.”

“What’s your name?”

“Don’t you know?”

“How would I know your name if I never-” I stopped and thought about it. “Adam.” I finished and he nodded.

“Yup, I’m your protector.”

“No you’re not.” I laughed. “Anyways, how did you get in here?”

“Uh…hmm…through the back door.”

“We don’t have a back door.”

“Have you been to the back door?”

“Touché.”

“I’m here to take you away from here.”

“I can get out of here myself.”

“It’s much more complicated than that. Outside…well, it isn’t outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ll see once we get out of the house. Pack some important things in your backpack, including drawing utensils. I’ll go pack food.”

“What about my parents?”

“What parents?”

“You know, the people who take care of me and who are downstairs?”

“Uh…oh yeah. Well don’t worry. I’ll slip past their sight.” he smiled in a secret way and rushed out the way as if he didn’t want me to ask anymore questions. I just shrugged. Nothing was weird with some “protector” wanting to help me escape a mad house right?

I looked around to find things that could be useful to take with me.

I grabbed my basket of my favorite drawings and slipped them into a black folder I used for homework after I had thrown my homework around my room. I grabbed my large pencil box and stuffed it with colored markers, seventy five colored pencils, and different colored sharpies with a fine point or an ultra fine point. I stuffed those in my backpack along with my cases of oil pastels and chalk pastels. I never know when those might come in handy.

The next thing I put in my regular sized backpack was my two stuffed animals that almost looked exactly alike except for the size of their rabbit head, the worn places in their ears, and the faded colors in their plaid overalls. Who doesn’t love their favorite stuffed animals?

I jammed my iPod into the front pocket along with a wall charger and headphones. My drawing pencils soon interrupted the iPod’s silence.

I stuck a water bottle into the right compartment that had tiny little elastic squares. My glasses went on the other compartment on the other side of my backpack that didn’t have elastic squares.

For the very little room that was left, I stuck extra clothes and stuffed as much as I could in there.

As soon as I finished zipping the backpack I heard Adam come through the door. He held a smaller backpack that reeked with artificial flavor. "What's in there? Fruit snacks?" I asked. "That and crackers, chips, honey, cereal, peanut-butter, juice boxes, and that's it." I rolled my eyes and stood up throwing the backpack over my shoulder.

"Let's go."

"It won't be that easy."

"Hit me."