Episode 9: The Tennis Racket

* even though these are singular stories, each one is typical of daily life in that fucking house*

One summer day I was at Clark Park playing basketball. I was playing with some idiot down the street who was basically a summertime friend. There weren't many kids in the neighborhood that played any type of sports but this one did. I mean he sucked it all of them but he was always willing to play. I call him a summertime friend because, during the winter, I would play basketball with my other friends at the gym. There was no need for this guy during the winter. We had already caught him stealing $5 out of my wallet. It was pretty genius the way we caught him. As it turns out we didn't need to set him up at all. I knew he had taken $5 from my wallet. He was alone in my room for about 5 minutes when I had to go to the bathroom. when we left I looked inside my wallet and found the $5 that was previously there, gone. A couple of days later I was at another friend's house. I told him what happened. We came up with the idea for me to hide in the closet and then invite the thief over to the house. Friend number two was going to steer the direction towards “what an idiot I was" And try to get Summertime friend number one to admit to stealing money from me. Summertime friend came over to the house. without a bit of prompting went right into the story about how he stole $5 from my wallet and I didn't even realize it. What he did not realize was that friend number two was recording the conversation on a tape player. Shortly after the admission fo theft, Friend number two, Suggested they go play basketball. The plan was for me to meet them at the basketball court and continued on as though nothing was wrong. Which we did. Later that day friend number two and I went to Summertime friend's house and play the audio tape for his parents. Needless to say they were horrified. Summertime friend had to pay me back the $5 plus they gave me another 25$ for recompense. Summertime friend was also grounded for the rest of the month. To his credit, he didn't blame me for this. we continue to be summertime friends. On the particular day in question, we were at the basketball court. Someone had left a tennis racket on the reservation board as people used to do back in the day when they wanted to reserve a court. St friend decided he was going to destroy the tennis racket he thought somebody had abandoned. So he did. And we all had a good laugh. For some reason when you're sixteen years old breaking things is funny. We continue to play basketball for a little bit and then I went home. About 30 minutes after I got home, ST friend showed up with some fat bitch from the neighborhood. She was Furious. Apparently, this was her tennis racket. She came and confronted St friend then started to cry and said it was me that broke the racket. So she made him take her to my house where she told my mother and her fuckhead husband. No matter my protesting, they took St friend and fat bitch word over mine. Nothing I could say nothing I could do would get anyone to listen to the actual truth. ST friend had already proven himself to be unreliable. That didn't matter. So I was forced to go get my beautiful prince tennis racket and give it to this fat bitch  To make up for her broken bracket. While I'm sitting there being yelled at by my parents and by this fat fucking bitch he's standing behind them laughing and pointing at me. So fat bitch and ST friend leave and I'm stuck in the house with mother and her fuckface husband screaming and yelling at me for being so disrespectful and irresponsible. Again nothing I could do nothing I could say would make anyone see reason or see the truth. I was never going to be a tennis star but I had a professional-grade aluminum tennis racket my aunt had given me. But I did like to play. We would go play tennis almost as much as we would go play basketball. But without a racket, I wasn't able to play. So then I had to admit to my actual friends that I had to give my tennis racket to some neighborhood fat bitch because ST friend told a lie which my mother and her fuckface husband took as the truth even though they knew he was not to be trusted in any way. Needless to say, this was one of the last times I ever hung out with him. But I was forced to stay in that house. It was shortly after this I decided I was going to run away. Nothing I could say or do would convince anyone that I was not the delinquent mother and fuckface seemed to think that I was. So again, a week later, I grabbed up my cat and put her in her green carrier, got a bag of clothes, a few cassettes- Depeche Mode, Front 242, Skinny Puppy, and the like, then rode my bike- Spook balanced on the crossbar-  to the train station down town champaign. I purchased a ticket to Chicago But that was all the money that I had. Once I got to Chicago I had no idea what I was going to do or where to go.  All I actually cared about was keeping my cat safe. If it were just me I would have gone on the streets not giving a fuck what happened. But I cared more for my cat than I did for myself. I did not want to put her into a situation where she might be In Harm's Way. Living on the street seemed a viable solution for me, but was not ideal for a housecat. So I turned the fuck around and went back. My fucking mother used to complain all the time that she didn't know anything about me. That I never talked to her. I finally told her-  numerous times why I don't talk to her and why I don't tell her anything about my life. But as usual with someone with whatever pathology she has, she deflects projects and displays a significant amount of cognitive dissonance. Nothing could or would ever be her fault. Let me tell you there has never been a time in her life when one of her kids did not hate her. I'm not talking about the typical teenage angst. I feel that's more that needs to be said here but since it's not my story to tell, I don't think I can go into too deep of detail. Suffice to say my brother moved out when he was, 16? 17? I remember feeling worried for him but also celebrating the fact that he did not live in that fucking house anymore. I wish I had the nerve to do the same no I wish I had the nerve to follow through with the same. I made a couple of attempts to leave I should have followed through. I wish I wish I wish I had…..