Sunday, 20 January 2013

Wagging it.




When I was in secondary school, I wasn’t in the habit of playing truant. I had friends who often wagged it, and one day they talked me into joining them.
Two of my sisters lived near the school. (B) Laid back, liberal, ex-truanters, I knew we would find refuge there – hot tea, television, etc.
The problem was, my mom lived right next to the school’s main entrance (A) and I didn’t want to risk bumping into her.
The usual route (mapped in green) would take us on a hundred metre walk through the danger zone – Mom might be on her way home, on her way out or just looking out of the window and spot us/me. I’ve never been any good at lying and the gig would be up!
So, we decided to take the scenic route (mapped in red), out of the top gates of the school and down past the River Cole – a much longer walk, but the only ‘safe’ option.
We had a laugh on the way and when we got to my sister’s house we were in good spirits… until I saw my mom sitting at the kitchen table.
I immediately felt sick.
“What are you doing here?!” she asked, frowning.
And, without hesitation, or lying, I answered, “I feel sick.”

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