My teacher walked around the room passing out papers. "Take out something productive to do while I pass back these tests," she announced as if anyone was listening. "Yeah right," I whispered under my breath as I began to doodle in the margins of my notebook. As she placed my test upside-down beside my hand she scoffed at all the tiny pieces of art I had created. "I’m sure those will end up in a museum someday," Ms. Parker said sarcastically. I guess she thought she was funny. No wonder her husband divorced her. I finally placed my pencil on my desk and turned over my test pages. "100%" was written in a bright red font next to a glistening sticker. Ms. Parker was the only teacher who still gave out stickers to seniors. Cameron leaned over to me, asking, “How’d ya do?” “Perfect score,” I replied with just a little bit of attitude. “You?” I inquired. “85,” Cameron said, “and that ain’t ‘alf bad for me.” I chuckled. Never was the smartest, but at least Cameron had been accepted to quite a few colleges. The ringing of the bell interrupted my thoughts. I packed up my books and started up the stairs to homeroom. Finally the end of the day, but still only Tuesday. I did my usual zoning out during the afternoon announcements and then instinctively began my descent into Hell, a.k.a. the senior locker room. It was filled with desperate guys, gossiping girls, and that one kid who basically ran a store out of his locker. And at 180 students our class isn’t exactly small, meaning our locker room is always loud and always crowded. I pushed everyone out of the way as I walked towards my locker. I quickly selected all of the books for the homework that I most likely wouldn’t even do and headed outside to my car. I climbed into the driver’s seat and put a N’SYNC CD into its slot. I looked out the window and saw Cameron walking towards the car. “Sorry, I couldn’t get my locker open…again,” Cameron explained. I turned the key in the ignition and Cam and I drove down the street singing along to “Bye Bye Bye” and “It’s Gonna Be Me” and laughing the whole way. I dropped Cameron off and drove just a bit further to my house. I pulled into the garage and walked up to my room. On the bed sat a few brightly colored papers. I picked them up only to realize they were college brochures and then throw them into the garbage can where another stack of brochures already resided. I knew exactly what my parents would say when they discovered I had tossed the brochures away. “You’re such a bright girl,” and “you could have such a bright future ahead of you,” are phrases I’d heard all too often. I pulled out one of my many sketch books and continued on a painting I had been working on for days. It was a small watercolor of a fox curled up asleep in its den. It was almost finished and I was very proud of it. My parents arrived home at about 8’o clock, at which point they came upstairs into my room and noticed the missing college pamphlets. “Did you take a look at the college booklets I left you?” my mother asked, cheerful and optimistic. My father rolled his eyes behind her. “No,” I said plainly without even removing my brush from the paper. “And why not?” she inquired in a bit more of an aggravated tone. “I think you already know the answer to that. Because I’m not going to any of those colleges. I’ve already applied to all of the schools I need to,” I replied, still not making eye contact. “But you have to apply to some real schools so you can actually have a real career,” my father chimed in. “Why is it so difficult for you to understand I want to go to art school? I want to become an illustrator or animator not a business owner or lawyer or surgeon like the rest of your kids who you’re actually proud of,” I shouted at them. We then got into a screaming match and I was outnumbered, two to one. “Not another word out of you, Lacey Caroline McLaughlin!” my mother screamed. “And not another word out of you, Diana Arlene McLaughlin!” I retorted. She looked at me stunned and offended. “You know if you have no job you can’t make any money, and without money you’re going to have to resort to selling drugs on the street. Then you’ll end up getting arrested and who do you think is going to be there to bail you out?” my father said. How much more dramatic could he possibly be? As if I would get myself arrested. Both of my parents stormed out of the room and I was left standing there, still fuming from our encounter. I decided I’d had enough. I changed out of my school uniform into some black skinny jeans and a red, black, and white flannel shirt with some skulls. I threw on my leather jacket and some over-the-knee black boots. I put on extremely dark eye make-up and put in as many piercings as possible. I figured if they were already angry might as well wear all of the clothes they hated, which was basically my entire closet. I shoved my phone and car keys into my pocket and stomped down the stairs. As I opened the door I heard my father call out from the room behind me. “Where do you think you’re off to,” he said with attitude. “Out,” I replied in a forceful and combative tone. Before either of my parents could even open their mouths I was out into the garage and then in my car. I sped away from the house. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going but I knew it was going to be far away. Being that it was already past 9 at night, it was too late to stop off at any friend’s house so I headed for the highway. I drove almost all night long. At about 2 a.m. I began to feel fairly drowsy and didn’t feel comfortable driving so I pulled into the next truck stop I saw and took a quick power nap. I woke up to my phone vibrating in my back pocket. I picked it up and looked at the time. It was already 6 in the morning. Then I noticed my phone and messaging icons. 43 texts and 21 missed calls. The first few were all from my mother. She was always the parent to worry. Then my father joined in trying to contact me, and then I noticed the messages from Cam. The first few were just casual texts just trying to talk. But the final message was from Cam. The robotic, muffled voice on the other line said, “Hey Lacey. It’s Cam. You’re parents are pretty worried about you. Apparently you took off last night and now it’s extremely early in the morning and even I haven’t heard from you. Please just send me a text.” Oh no. I didn’t mean to make Cameron worry. I decided to drive over to the Neil’s house. I drove up quietly and threw rocks at Cam’s window like some kind of cliché teen romance novel. No response. There weren’t any cars in the driveway either. Cam must have gone to school already. I hadn’t even thought of school. I didn’t want to go back home but I knew that’s the only thing Cam would tell me to do if I was there. I decided jut to skip. I drove and drove until my gas meter hit “E”. I pulled up to a gas without even thinking, but then I realized I had left in such a hurry I didn’t bother to grab any money. I also didn’t have any changes of clothes or any food. I had been snacking on an old bag of chips and a soda that was left in my car from God knows when. A bit panicked now, I left the gas station and kept driving. I was now going through a small complex of condos that hadn’t been put up for sale yet. After passing a bunch of identical buildings in different colors my car began to slow down. “Oh no! Oh no, no, no!” I exclaimed to myself as the car stopped. I was now completely out of gas. I wasn’t going anywhere anymore. Nobody was around and I had nobody else to call but my family so I just in my car. Suddenly it began to snow. It was already so cold in the car without the heat on, never mind adding snow. I couldn’t sit in that car any longer. I hoped out of my car and hoped into one of the condos through an unlocked window. It got to be night again and luckily the condos were fully furnished so I laid in one of the beds and slept. I awoke to a scream. Terrified, I jumped out of the bed and ran into the corridor. I saw a woman standing with her phone in her hand. “I’m calling the police!” she screamed. I tried to stop her or to explain what I was doing but any words that came out of my mouth made no sense at all. The next thing I knew the police arrived and I was under arrest for trespassing. I was brought to a police station and put in a room with only a table, two chairs, and filing cabinets overflowing with documents. They told me to call my parents to come get me but instead I called Cam. I explained what had happened. Cam replied, after a bit of chuckling, “A’ight, A’ight. Calm down. I’ll come ‘n bail ya out in no time.” I wish Cam could be a bit more serious. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Cameron entered the room where I sat, immediately followed by my two parents. Fantastic. Just great. There was a reason that I only called Cam. Neither I nor either of my parents spoke the whole car ride home. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and was shocked to find it remarkably clean looking. Then I made a horrible realization. It looked so clean because all of my books and paint, my toiletries and makeup, my clothes, and anything else I had had in my room was missing. And on my bed sat my large, black suit case. I opened it realize that all of my possessions were stuffed inside. My mother and father had emerged in the doorway. My mother had tears in her eyes as she stood behind my father who looked a bit less sad and a bit angrier. “This is also yours,” he said in a monotone voice. He thrust an upside-down picture frame into my hands. It held my painting, the one of the fox in its den, perfectly cut, backed, and framed. I looked at him confused. "Leave," he said plainly. My mother began to cry. "What!?" I exclaimed. He couldn't be serious. Leave? What did he mean, leave? "Get out of my home," he stated slowly. At this, he picked up my suitcase and headed down the stairs. "What are you doing? Where are you going? What is happening?" I screamed. He did not respond. My father went into the garage and placed the suitcase in the trunk of my car. Tears began to well up in my eyes. "Go," he said, walking back in the house, locking the door behind him. I sank down onto the steps with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. You have a lot of time to think when you're driving to an unknown destination with no one to talk to. I thought about how my parents had abandoned me, my best friend had betrayed me, and all of my possessions were now contained in my trunk. I thought of my painting, of the fox safe and warm in its home and how my home was now only a car. Most of all I thought of my future. What was I going to do with my life? Where was I going to go? Who would I turn to? These thoughts echoed in my head. I had done such a great job figuring out my life so far, I thought sarcastically. But I'm sure I'll figure it out. I have no facts to go on and no resources to use but life is an art, not a science.