I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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I left a trail of dripping water through the shared driveway of our houses. My teeth chattered and I was pretty sure I had the onset of pneumonia. I rang the intercom button with difficulty, my fingers stiff with the cold.
"Welcome back Arlo, Mr Peers has been expecting you." I could hear the humour in Bentleys voice, he knew I was heading down shits creak without a paddle and loved it. I highered my middle finger up to the camera and waited for the doors to swing open.
My father was pacing the entrance hall, his sneakers making squeaking sounds against the marble floor.
He looked furious but froze momentarily to look me over. "Are you hurt?" He asked, pausing his fury temporarily. I shook my head.
"He's back!" He shouted, I rolled my eyes not wanting to face my mother's wrath as well as his. She came running down the staircase in her dressing gown and slippers, her hair pinned up into a turban. She found her place sitting on the bottom step.
She was ready to come at me with pitch forks and torches too but then she stopped and confusion took over her face. "Why are you wet?" She asked.
"Fuck that!" My dad interrupted. "Are you fucking stupid Arlo? Do you know how much danger you put yourself in tonight?" I shrugged, knowing better than to fight fire with fire because the whole place would burn to the ground.
"The cops have been here several times tonight looking for you. You know the system is discriminatory of us Arlo. Thankfully your dad sorted it but that could've gone a whole other way if they caught you tonight. We were worried sick." My mom pleaded more than argued.
The system was corrupt and I've been assumed of acting unlawfully just because of the colour of my skin more than once. I'm just automatically seen as a criminal, especially in this rich white folk town.
Though I had an upper hand that most didn't have, wealth. Plus, my uncle Liam was this famous soccer player and all he needed to do was show his face and people fell at his feet.
"I know, I'm sorry." I admitted.
"And my car! My car!" He held his fist to his lips as if holding back vomit. I rolled my eyes at his unnecessary dramatics. "She got brought back to me on a - on a - on - oh my god." He gagged again. "A tow truck." He closed his eyes as the horror seeped into his features.
"She had an adventure." I assured him. He glanced at my mom who held back a smile.
"I'm going to fucking kill him." He warned her she held her hands up in exasperation. "What the fuck happened tonight Arlo? Are you taking your meds?"
"Yes." I sighed out.
My mom shook her head at him, they knew talking about my disorder made me feel uncomfortable. They tiptoed around it a lot, like it was taboo. Truth was, they didn't know how to parent a child with bipolar disorder and I didn't make it easy for them.
