My Secret Life

2. Sly

With a smile plastered on my face, I whispered goodbye to Jordan and then silently crept to his window.

I delicately climbed down the vines, and then cycled calmly back up the hill towards my house.

I parked the bike in its usual space and then securely wrapped my hands around the strong plastic pipe. My feet gripped onto the wall, and I climbed upwards as if I was a talented rock climber.

The difference was that I didn't need a rope to get back up, and it wasn't as dangerous.

When I got up far enough, I swung my leg over the balcony and then for while, I just stood there gazing out at the city I lived in. It was beautiful, really, and I loved it. It was a pretty big city, and very famous for all it's landmarks and tourist attractions.

There were world famous museums, art galleries and a theme park; a gorgeous sandy beach, lined with palm trees and seafood restaurants, and a beautiful ocean that seemed to flow on forever; statues of the most inspiring and famous people were clustered in the centre, and were surrounded by lines of legendary retail shops, hotels, restaurants and beautiful water fountains.

Nightclubs were dotted around the city and were packed every night with the local citizens and the tourists that were constantly visiting (and constantly ready to party.)

I remembered times when I had sneaked out with Evie, Kane and Jordan and snuck into a few of them. There had been times where I had got drunk, but thankfully Jordan had taken me home, got me up the pipe and put me to bed. He had even stayed the night with me, making sure I was alright, and then had snuck out in the morning when my parents woke up.

I had lied and told them I was ill, and they had believed me.

I got 'ill' quite frequently, I thought mischeiviously as I stood there, letting the night breeze blow against my face and the calm moonlight shine down onto my face.

There were times when I felt terrible for what I did - going behind my parents back and lying to them. I felt as if I was the bad one, but then although I knew it was partially my fault, it was also theirs for controlling my life and then making me want to deceive them, just to actually have a life.

After a while of thinking what my life would have been like if my parents weren't so strict and controlling, I sighed and slipped back into my bedroom.

I climbed into my pyjamas, and fell asleep quickly, dreaming of smiles, blue skies and endless sunshine.

* * * * * * * * * * *

I woke up a while later, and the delicious smell of waffles filled my nostrils, and my stomach grumbled hungrily.

At least my parents were good at one thing.

I stretched languorously, and climbed out of bed.

As I stalked out the door, I saw myself in my Victorian mirror with the intricately carved frame, and I stopped in my tracks and stared at my reflection.

My face was bare of makeup - I hardly ever wore it.

I had tried it many times and liked it, but again, I only wore it in the absence of my parents.

I was 14 years old when I had applied the first sliver of lipgloss. I still remembered the cheerful smile on my face as I sauntered downstairs to flaunt my makeup off to my parents.

I had not been prepared for their reaction, and my cheerful smile quickly turned to a tearful grimace.

They had both stood up abruptly from their study chairs and put their hands together, as if in prayer. Their faces conveyed shock and anger.