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Ashley Byerly

Professor Debra Jizi

UWRT 1103-012

18 February 2018

Ninth grade is a tough time for us all; the transition into high school, dealing with harder

classes, and a different schedule compared to anything one has done before. All this comes

alongside typical teenage feelings of defiance. In the spring semester of my freshman year, I

decided to rebel against my mom. There wasn’t anything that could be considered a precursor

for this, I just felt like I followed the rules too often. It was my idea of feeling like one of the

“cool kids.” In ninth grade, fitting in was all I could think about; new school, some new people,

new look, new everything. It was my chance to create a new image for myself, and when I saw

the chance, I took it. My plan mainly came from when my mom and I had previously talked

about how she didn’t want me walking home. She said it was because of the distance and other

reasons that I discarded at the time. Being a young teenager who thought she was invincible, I

decided to go against her will and walk with a friend to the nearby park. Instead of asking for

permission, I chose to do something any other teenager would do: lie.

The walk to the park consisted of phone calls to my mom while covering the microphone

any time a car drove by. The rushing sounds of the wind and tires on pavement caused me to

tighten my grip on the phone in nervousness. At the time, I thought I was clever. In order to

fool my mom, I chose to say that my bus was running late due to a fight between two

students. At first, she believed me. It seemed like a valid reason for me not being home at the

same time as usual, after all. Once I reached the park, sweaty and feeling rather guilty and
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anxious, I decided I better head home quickly since it was quite a ways away. I began the trek

home, feeling the increasing pain in my shins from the speed walking with a heavy bookbag on

my back. The sun beat down, staring at me, making me feel like the universe was judging me for

what I had gotten myself into. As I was passing by the bank, I saw my mom’s contact pop up on

my phone. She was calling me again.

I stopped in my tracks, terrified of what she could be calling about this time. Somehow I

knew that I had been found out. I could feel my palms getting sweaty with nerves as the

realization hit that all the little white lies had become transparent. I swallowed hard, mustering

up the courage to answer the phone call that was the beginning of all the stressful events headed

my way. As my predictions proved true, I admitted defeat. There was lots of yelling and I could

tell my mom was extremely angry this time. After telling me to wait at the bank for her to pick

me up, I felt the anxiety creep further up and become more of a burden on my body. I was

exhausted from the walk and the heat; the fear was only making it worse. I felt my knees go

shaky as soon as I saw my mom pull up, the guilt inside really making itself apparent as the tears

began to fall. The yelling continued as we rode home, me silently trying not to break down in

the passenger seat. My throat hurt and my eyes stung from the salty tears, yet I held my

composure as best I could.

As if the car ride wasn’t bad enough, once we got home, more arguing ensued. Things

were said and threats were made. The one comment by her that stuck out to me was, “You can

just do whatever you want!” I decided to take her literally which lead to me storming out of the

house, tossing my socks on the ground in the process. The wetness from yesterday’s rain coated

the bottoms of my feet, but I paid no mind to it all. The trails were my destination in mind. I
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figured I could clear my mind there and just get away from the hostile environment I had created

for myself in that house.

After venturing to the back area of the trails, I decided to take a detour. I wanted to

hide. I wanted to get away. I didn’t have a car or license, so it seemed as if jumping over the

creek and hiding in the woods was my best bet. I could feel the thorns enter my feet multiple

times as I rushed over vines and sticks, not paying attention, only focusing on getting away. I

was breathing hard, feet dirty and forehead glistening with sweat in the mid-spring heat. 30

minutes passed, and I heard a car pull down our gravel driveway; my dad had gotten

home. There was lots of yelling coming from the back yard. I could only hear the angry pleas

for me to return to the house. Instead of giving into said pleas, rebellion took over once again. I

made a beeline for the side of the house, running as fast as I could the second I saw my parents

look the opposite way, where I couldn’t be seen and stayed there for another half hour. The yells

continued, as well as the growth of my guilt. Everything started piling up in my mind, causing a

knot to form in my throat and tension in my chest.

The pile of emotions won over my rebellion for the first time that day, which led to me

emerging from my hiding place behind the water heater. I felt the shame creep up from inside

and I knew it was easily visible through my expression. I’ll never forget the look on my parents’

faces. The disappointment, anger, sadness, and the one that stood out the most: relief. Even

though I had come back to them, I was definitely not free of trouble’s grasp. For the third time

that day, another major argument happened, except this time, both parents were involved. By the

time I gave in and realized what I did wrong, it was too late. I had been grounded, had my phone

taken away, could not go anywhere for the next few weeks, and worst of all, I had broken my

parents’ trust. Nothing has ever been the same since then. Sometimes I feel as if it’s a one-sided
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issue where my mom and dad don’t reciprocate the same feelings, yet it’ll never go away. It’s as

if trouble’s grasp left an imprint on me, forever leaving a tightness in my chest that I can’t

relieve myself of.

Ashley,

This happened four years ago. Your reflection makes it sound like it happened recently. I believe if you
look harder at this situation, from the perspective of your now more mature self, you will be able to
create a different reflection.

You say that nothing has been the same since. How so? What do you mean when you say your parents
don’t reciprocate the same feelings? This isn’t clear in your reflection. Are you still living at home? Have
you tried to look at the situation from the outside? From both perspectives?

My assignment for you is to look at this situation with new eyes. Enough time has passed for you to get
some perspective. Being able to reframe past events from a more mature viewpoint is a skill that will
help you throughout your life.

As far as your writing goes, I love the way you use description. I could feel the thorns in my feet as I ran
through the woods with you. You have a talent for writing.