It struck me as crazy, rebellious, and, well, frightening. I had never really considered myself as a “rebel” or “bad,” but there I was, getting dressed to leave the house. My dad wouldn’t be home until late that evening. He was caught up in work. Neither would my mom or my sister. I saw it as the only good opportunity to go outside and be like one of those older kids whose parents allow them to do whatever they wish - so we did it: me, Lisa, and Amanda. I looked at myself in the mirror - petite and innocent, way below average height for a fifth grader. The braces popped out of my face, and I laughed to myself, thinking I’d at least have them as a weapon.

My palms began to sweat; my body was telling me to stay home, but I dismissed the thought. I raced to grab my “emergency- only” keys. This is an emergency, I told myself. I can’t be treated like a baby forever.

Lisa and Amanda followed my lead as I stepped carefully outside of the line of the door. My hand pulled the doorknob inwards. Its grease marked my palm and its iciness twisted my stomach further. Was I really about to lie to my dad? When the door slammed, regret came over my entirety so shockingly that I shook and couldn’t swallow. But Lisa pulled me out with a giggle and Amanda ran outside casual as ever.

“Don’t be a baby. We’re in our double digits now, it’s not a big deal,” announced Amanda. She was tall - too towering, too mature, more than anyone I’d met before. Lisa was chubby, but she was tough, strong, and scary. Compared to them, I was an ant, yet I was only a year younger than the two (They’d been left back). I was innocent and they were fearless. And somehow, all I wanted then was to be like them - cool, smart, and twice the height I was.

As we walked down the warm streets, I began to relax, yet my body was still aware. The girls were trying to ease my mind with meaningless conversations, which worked. For a while.

Then, we got to a crosswalk with a red palm depicted on its post. I halted, yet when I blinked, I saw Lisa and Amanda continuing to walk. So I did it, too. We began to cross the street, smiles on our faces, no cares in our minds.

Two steps.

HOOOONNNKKKK! My heart seemed to stop.

“Holy s…!” We ran back to the sidewalk, nearly falling onto the dark cement. Why the hell are they laughing? I glanced at the family in the car, disappointed expressions staring back at me. Just me.

My heart pounded and I was lightheaded. I wanted to collapse on the ground. Constantly, I think about how big of a follower I was at that moment.

My thoughts struggled to comprehend my fear. I couldn't tell whether I was afraid of the pain I could’ve gone through just then, or if I feared my parents would’ve found out about what I’d done, had I’d gotten killed.

Everything around me was making me feel guilty. The road that I had to cross again, the stop light, mocking me for not listening to it the first time. Why hadn’t I stayed home? Why didn’t I turn around and go back? The rest of the day was filled with anxiety. I attempted to be as watchful as possible.

When we stopped at the deli, I wanted to cry. My sandwich tasted like sand. I eyed the security camera in the store, having a staring contest with me. I can never come here with my parents, I thought. What if they get ahold of the video and find out? Or if a cashier recognizes me? Inside, I knew none of those things were possible, none of this was even a big deal. But somehow, all of these thoughts filled my mind for a very long time after that day, and it took me a while to move on and stop feeling guilty.

We finally decided to go to Amanda’s house, after walking around the dirty and crowded street. The lobby of her apartment building was terrifying. It reeked of a strong, sour smell, and I recognized it immediately.When we got into her apartment, though messy and filthy, I was relieved.

Until my dad called.

“Where are you?” he asked fiercely. My heart sank. He was home…

His voice was more scared than angry. I’d missed five calls beforehand, and couldn’t imagine what he felt at that moment. I didn’t want to.

I lied and told him we went out to the corner deli for snack. But, I quickly took it back when I realized we couldn’t possibly get home in five minutes, for we were a half hour’s walk away from home. So, I lied again.

“Actually, Lisa’s dad picked us up and took us to her house.” Stupid. Lisa didn’t have a dad; we both knew that. My nervousness hurt my head, stopped me from thinking. Lisa was a sweet, good girl in the eyes of my parents, and they pitied her because she had less than I did, though she weighed more. On the other hand, they thought Amanda was a lunatic who lived in a dumpster and was a bad example. So yes, lying further was completely necessary. “I mean her mom…”

My mind was blank and I hoped it would explode. Say something that’s actually true!

“But now, we’re at Amanda’s. Daddy, come get me, please.” I didn’t want to talk anymore. I wished my mouth would lock permanently and that I was home and that I’d never left.

His silence was calming. He knew I was lying, that something wasn’t right. But he left it alone. After all, everyone needs their own secrets.

During the car ride home, my father tried not to ask about it, and I was lucky. When I began to tell him the truth about what I’d done, his smile told me to let it go. Still, the day’s events tugged on my mind constantly for a very long time after then, and however hard I tried to distract myself, I felt awful for going against my parents’ rules, as well as lying. But, I did realize that a tiny, smart, and trustworthy little girl was what I wanted to be, and that those girls weren’t an inch better than me.
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As I scroll through my cell phone, I smile happily, looking through pictures of friends. One picture hits me like a bomb, and I don’t know whether to laugh or to cry. The same girls that once almost got me killed and laughed about it are half naked, exhaling smoke from their mouths. And I’m pleased with myself now; I may still be short, but at least I’m still innocent.