Before I was 14, “rebel” was never a word I used in my vocabulary, nor was it a word anyone had ever used to describe me. But it took just one early Saturday morning rebellion to alter the way I thought completely. My best friend Carley and I spent most of our weekends lounging around each other’s houses, binge eating Doritos and Fruit Roll-Ups until we wanted to vomit. The occasional bowling trip or movie would work its way into our schedule, but we weren’t old enough to drive a car, so we did not have opportunities to go often. We rarely found things to do that could keep us entertained for longer than twenty minutes.
That day the blistering early morning sun of July shined through the window right onto our faces, immediately waking us at 7 a.m. Now, nothing pisses off two teenage girls more than having to stir before the moon shows up, especially on a summer weekend. We slumped down the stairs of her house with cowlicks in our hair and breath bad enough to kill dragons, just in time to be lectured by her parents on their way out the door about what not to do while they were out running errands. We heard these commands every weekend and had them memorized.
“What should we do today?” Carley shouted from the kitchen. I shrugged my shoulders and groggily plopped my body down onto the couch in the living room. I didn’t care. I expected it to be like every weekend before. “Maybe we should sneak out,” I heard her say excitedly (keep in mind she always yelled, so it was difficult to tell when she was excited or just being normal Carley). I shot up from the couch and came to attention like a dog whose owners just offered him food off their plate. “Sneaking out?!” I asked. “How is it sneaking out when there’s no one here to catch us?”
She reminded me of her parents’ strict speeches to us --- don’t open the door for strangers, don’t watch any inappropriate shows or movies on the television, and most importantly, do not go anywhere. “Let’s do it!” I said with the biggest grin fixed upon my face. I’m pretty sure we high-fived after that, and then dashed back upstairs in the opposite manner that we trudged down in.
As we searched for our shoes lost in the wonderland that was her room, we discussed and debated about what we should do and where we should go. Obviously we could not go many places; we weren’t even the legal age to get a permit, much less drive an actual car…. Right? Wrong. Carley snatched the car keys from the hook and sprinted ahead of me into the closed garage. The door lifted and sunlight flooded into the tiny carport, washing the car in its rays.
I stopped suddenly and looked back and forth between her and the silver car. I felt like I had the typical, cliché angel on one shoulder and demon on the other. My stomach felt kind of bubbly and weird as the nervousness and thrill of possibly being caught flowed through my veins. Regardless, I went against my upright feelings and jumped in as my best friend accelerated the car. We shot down the driveway, sure that her parents would show up and become the barrier between us and freedom. “Let’s take the back road to avoid anyone catching us.”
I rolled all the windows down, the wind instantly grabbing my hair. The radio bellowed and blasted a Rihanna song, and we attempted to scream-sing over the sound of the car tires riding over the gravel road. We didn’t know where we were going, and we didn’t care… We just knew it wouldn’t be too far. Our nervousness caused us to do a lot of giggling, and we didn’t do much talking, just a lot of singing until our voices became hoarse. The twenty minute ride into town felt like five minutes due to the amount of fun we were having with our duets together.
Each and every car we passed had us fearful for either Carley’s parents or a strict police officer. To this day, I’m still not sure why we decided on this, but we both agreed we would quickly go through the drive thru of McDonald’s and stash our trash somewhere secret to avoid any future questions. We devoured our McDonald’s breakfast of hotcakes and sausage, as the car swerved all over the highway, the white lines and trees all a blur. I have never laughed as much as I did that day. We returned home, anxiously stuffing the food wrappers elbow deep in the almost full trashcan. Talks came up about us burning the evidence, but we thought that might be too melodramatic.
Moments later, we heard tires crunching up the drive and immediately knew we had gotten away with creeping away from the house for a hasty breakfast. Although what we had done wasn’t such a big deal, we felt like we conquered the world that day as two 14 year olds. It was the first time our souls felt freedom, the first time we felt truly carefree. When I thought my life was on the line and decided to take a risk, every smell was sweeter and every object seemed brighter.
When I arrived home that night, my mom asked me what Carley and I had done during our visit. I replied with the straightest face I could possibly hold, “Oh, you know… The same old, same old.”
