Ficly

Runaway

“They want me to come straight home ’cause they found out I was lying. There is no Matt at church. Ha,” I say in a tone that Kylie is used to. This isn’t the first time my parents have caught me in a lie.

“I’m sorry, Gabe. I’ll take you back home now—”

“No, don’t. I told them that I was with you and I was staying with you all summer and not going to church,” I say without hesitation. I’m not angry, I’m a little bit more relieved about what I did. My parents aren’t in control of my life anymore.

“But, Gabe. You live with them and I don’t want to get you grounded,” Kylie says sympathetically. I know she means well, but she doesn’t understand that going home isn’t an option anymore.

“I told them I’m turning 18 in a few weeks. They don’t control me anymore,” Kylie gasps. I know she’s surprised of my courage, “I’m not living in the same quotidian lifestyle. We’re going to go to Cali and have the best vaca ever!”

“I’m proud of you, Gabe,” Kylie says. I raise my hands in the air, finally free.

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