Date: Fri, 16 May 2008 06:09:43 -0700
From: Danny <m12@thedoghousemail.com>
Subject: Simon's Journal: Thirteen Days, Chapter 1 of 13

Warning:
      The following is evil, illegal, should be banned, and
all that other blah, blah, blah. If reading a coming of age
story of self-discovery about pre-adolescent and adolescent
boys that wet their beds, wear diapers and explore their
awakening sexuality with each other does not tickle your
pickle (or if the law in your area says that tickle
pickling is illegal) then don't read it.

      This is the first of 13 chapters and there are two
more novel length stories that will follow this one. I
originally published this story on another site which has a
limited readership. I've always enjoyed the stories on Nifty
and have thought for a long time about submitting my Simon's
Journal series to them as a way of saying thank you and to
be able to share it with more people.
      If you enjoy Simon's Journal - Thirteen Days, I'd love
to hear from you at m12@thedoghousemail.com and if you don't
like it, why would you come here in the first place?








      Write something to suit yourself and many people will
like it; write something to suit everybody and scarcely
anyone will care for it.
~ Jesse Stuart









Simon's Journal
Volume I

Thirteen Days - The First Crusade
A novel by Danny




Preface

      After reading about so many sighting reports online
and even seeing some on TV, though I am skeptical of
anything I see on TV, I've decided to set out on a mission
to experience one of these encounters for myself. Yeah, I
know that some, maybe more then some, maybe even more then
half, possibly nearly all are built-up elaboration of what
people hope, think, or believe they saw. But if even one is
real, if even one is based on actual events, doesn't that
mean that maybe, just maybe I have a chance? Doesn't that
mean that if I want it to happen bad enough, strong enough,
will it to be, that it can actually happen that I will
witness one myself; even if only briefly?
      Though I thought I had all the heart, raw guts and
determination of a Knight on a Crusade, I was not prepared
for the events of the next thirteen days.



Chapter 1
February 16, 2004 Monday
      I've read a lot of stories of teen and preteen diaper
sightings that happen in and around the diaper aisles in
drug and department stores and since I live close enough to
a large super store, close enough that I could ride my bike
there, I decided that would be where I would begin my first
stakeout.
      In my excitement to experience a sighting for myself,
I have decided to skip school today; it turned out to be
easier then I thought it would be. At dinner last night I
asked permission to ride my bike to school today instead of
my dad taking me like he did every morning on his way to
work. Dad was surprisingly supportive of the idea because
he had a big presentation at work in the morning and not
having to go by my school meant he would have a few extra
minutes to prepare for it. Mom was a little harder to
convince as she still thinks of me as six years old.
Sometimes I think she will never be able to see the fact
that I am 12 now, well I will be in a few days anyway! In
the end, she agreed but not without giving me a long speech
about safety and making sure I knew to lock my bike up
really well! I put up with the speech because I have
learned that Mom is big on speeches, I guess it makes her
feel good, and afterward I usually get what I wanted.
      Dad ended up leaving the house early this morning; Mom
was cleaning the breakfast dishes in the sink. With my
coat, hat, gloves and backpack on, I kissed her cheek and
said, "Bye Mom!"
      She said something to me as I raced out the sliding
door but I didn't hear what it was. The air was pretty
crisp this morning. It has been like that all month,
chilled and frosty in the mornings and almost spring like
in the afternoons as long as you don't mind the still cold
wind that seems to come in gusts when you least expect
them.
      Just in case mom was watching me out the window, I
made as though I was going to school. It meant that I would
end up having to back track a couple blocks but I didn't
mind too much. I raced down the hill on my bike crouching
down so that less of the cold morning air was hitting me
and it also let me go even faster. I passed the Janson
house with a blur and didn't even hear Buster, their dog,
bark. I'm sure I looked like a streak of blue and green on
the frosty air.
      At the bottom of the hill where our street dead-ends
into Marshall Ave, I normally would have turned right to
ride to school but instead I turned left without slowing
down much at all. I felt like a guided missile cutting
through the crystallized air as I whipped around the
corner. I went two blocks down Marshall still at full speed
and peddling for all I was worth and whipped left around
another corner to start up Pocono Streets' hill. I wanted
to keep up as much speed as possible so that I could get as
far up the hill as I could before I would have to jump off
and walk my bike up the rest of the way.
      I made it past six houses before I had to jump off and
start pushing my bike. I remember thinking that it was the
furthest I had ever made it up Pocono hill before and I
felt pretty big about it.
      It took me a few minutes or so to reach the halfway
point up the hill to where I had to turn and go through the
community sports park. It was early enough that I only saw
two people jogging around the running track and they were
far enough away that if they knew me, they probably would
not recognize me. However, I still peddled for all I was
worth just to give anyone a more difficult time at
recognizing me.
      Most people that bike through the park stay on the
bike path but I wanted to get through the park as fast as
possible so I was cutting a straight line through the
soccer fields that were blanked in glimmering frosted
blades of grass that seemed to shatter as my wheels crushed
them. The ball diamonds, which are soft and difficult to
ride a bike over in the spring and summer, were hard as
rock and I sailed over each one with no sand kicking up
from my tires at all.
      Once I reached Main Street I had to skid to a stop,
which was really fun on the frozen grass. Main is a
difficult street to cross even at the lights. I had to wait
a long time. I kept my face down so that if someone saw me
they would have a hard time distinguishing me from any
other kid. It seemed like I had to wait forever for the
light to finally change and I walked my bike across as fast
as I could without actually running.
      Once I was on the other side of Main Street, I was
much nearer to my destination and the excitement that I was
feeling gave my legs strength to power me to my
destination. I jumped back on my bike, peddled my heart out
across the Subway and Radio Shack parking lots and cut
through the Drive-Thru of the Dollar Tree bank to reach the
Wal-Mart Super Center.
      After stowing my bike in the bike rack next to the
front entrance and securely locking it, I headed in to the
store. I knew they would not let me take my backpack into
the store with me so I stopped at the service desk and
asked if I could leave it with them while I shopped. The
lady at the desk was very nice and put it behind the
counter after I stuffed my hat and gloves into it and she
gave me a slip of paper with a matching number to the
little yellow sticker she put on my backpack.
      I knew exactly where the diaper aisle was; I had gone
to that isle many times before with my mother to get a
package of GoodNites for myself. I guess I have not said
yet that I am a bed wetter and always have been. I wear
GoodNites to bed to keep from waking up with soaked sheets.
Most of the time they work just fine but there have been
times when I've wet more than a single GoodNite can hold
and it has leaked and got my pajamas and sheets wet. I
share a room with my younger half-brother every other
weekend and all during the summer. He doesn't wet the bed
and he can make me feel pretty humiliated sometimes. He is
only eleven months younger then me, and he is always
teasing me about wetting at night. Aside from him teasing
me, I kind of like wetting the bed. No that is not true
actually; I really do like wetting the bed and I've even
purposefully wet my bed a few times when I've woke up and
found out I had a dry night. I don't have them very often
but when I do, I just lay myself back down to wet my
GoodNite and then I get up. I don't normally take off my
wet GoodNite until after breakfast unless I am worried
about it leaking. No one ever says anything about it in my
family. I guess they all know and just ignore it. When my
half-brother is here, I never wear it around the house. I
mean why give him more chances to mess with me?
      Our Wal-Mart is open 24 hours a day and only closes on
Christmas Eve, which is why I was able to get in to it so
early today. The store was not very busy that early but I
had planned on spending the entire day at the store if I
had to, well up to 3:30 p.m. when my school normally lets
out.
      I made my way to the baby department and I was
surprised to find two ladies shopping in there already. I
strolled past the diapers and took a quick mental picture
of where the GoodNites and larger diapers were before
continuing on to the little girls' department, which is
right next to the baby department. I walked around a while,
scouting out the best place to hide and where I had a clear
view of the diaper aisle. I found a rack of girls'
sundresses that was perfect. I made sure no one was
watching me and climbed into the middle of the rack and sat
myself down on the two cross members. The dresses hid me
quite well from anyone walking by and as long as no one
looked down inside the middle or seen me peeking through
the dresses they would never know I was in there.
      I sat in my hideout for what I guessed was at least an
hour before I saw the first person enter the diaper aisle
but I was disappointed when they didn't even stop to look
and just meandered right on through.
      The longer I sat there the more uncomfortable I got as
the two metal cross pieces I was sitting on were making my
legs and bottom quite sore and I was also feeling like I
really needed to pee.
      Now, getting out of that hiding place was not
something I had thought about previously. I was not sure
how to tell if anyone was looking and try as much as I
could, I could not see in every direction to be sure the
coast was clear. In the end I finally decided to just throw
caution to the wind and make a break for it! Luck was on my
side and I was able to make my way out and down to the
layaway department to use the bathroom. I hate it when the
bathrooms are located next to the layaway department in
stores. I always feel like everyone is watching me go in
and come out, but again, luck was with me because not even
a store employee was within sight. I was able to go in,
relieve my bladder and then make my way back out again
without being seen.
      When I got back to the little girls' department there
was a really fat lady shopping so I just continued on my
way as if I knew where I was going. I went back down the
diaper aisle, everything looked to still be in its place so
I continued through the baby clothes and over into the
little boys' clothes. That is when my luck ran out.
      Just as I was passing the shelves of boys' jeans, I
ran smack into a sales lady and she remembered me from
earlier in the week when my mom had me here trying on
clothes. She smiled and said hi and asked why I was not in
school. I had to think fast and I said that I had a dentist
appointment later and that my mom had just kept me home
from school for the whole day. Then she asked if my mom was
with me and I stupidly said yes but I quickly recovered and
said that she was over getting groceries. That seemed to
satisfy her and I made a quick retreat away from her view.
      I decided to go back to see if I was able to get into
my hiding place again but someone else was now shopping in
that area and was looking at the sun dresses as well. I was
feeling a bit like everyone was watching me though I know I
was just panicking a bit. Instead I decided to go over to
the toy department for a while and just check back later.
      Now, Wal-Mart has this most excellent skateboard that
I have been drooling over since before Christmas! It was
the one thing I wanted for Christmas more then anything
else but I didn't get it. My parents keep telling me that
it costs too much and I am just going to end up scratching
it all up the first day I get it. Well, yea, of course I am
going to scratch it up, that is what they are for! I mean,
how am I supposed to grind without scratching up the
bottom? But that has not stopped me from begging them for
it every chance I get. So, I made my way to the middle of
the store where the toy department is.
      Man, the board is still so awesome and I would look so
cool on it, but I guess at $139 bucks, all I am going to
get to do is dream about it!
      I ogled the board for a few minutes, spinning the
wheels of each board and listening to that great whine of
the ball bearings! I guess I was so into my dream state
that I didn't notice right away that someone had come into
the aisle sometime after I did.
      "That's pretty cool huh?"
      I must have jumped ten feet in the air!
      "Whoa!" A pail blonde boy to my left laughed, "Sorry,
I didn't mean to scare you!" he said, smiling wide.
      Re-gathering my composure, "Uh, you didn't scare me."
      He smiled sheepishly at me.
      "Okay maybe a little." I gave in and smiled back.
      He looked back at the boards.
      "You got one?" I asked.
      "Na, my mom and dad would never let me have one," he
said.
      "Why not?" I asked.
      "They think I would hurt or kill myself." He spun one
of the wheels as he spoke, "They won't even let me ride a
bike, either."
      "Wow!" was all I said.
      "Yea, but they don't know that my friends let me ride
their boards all the time when my mom and dad can't see
me," he continued. "I even learned to ride a bike, thanks
to my one friend's dad."
      "Why won't your mom and dad let you ride a bike or
skateboard? I mean, sure, I get scraped and bruised, but
I've never broke anything and I don't know of anyone from
my school that has broke any bones, either," I said.
      "I have... they just wont." He changed what he was going
to say midway and I could tell from the look in his face
that he didn't want to talk about it so I dropped the
subject.
      "I better go find my mom, bye," he said.
      "Okay, bye," I said.
      I didn't really think much more about that kid until
later.
      After I felt that I had sufficiently drooled over the
skateboards I made my way back to the little girls'
department and sure enough, now there were several ladies
in there shopping. I walked right past them and went down
the diaper aisle again but this time I noticed that two
packages of GoodNites size medium were missing. My heart
jumped in my chest.
      I spun around to see if I could spot the packages in
anyone's shopping carts but I didn't. I tried to walk fast
without drawing attention to myself. I went back to the
little girls' clothes to check the women's shopping carts
from a distance, no GoodNites.
      I race-walked over to the little boys clothes, there
were a couple women shopping there too, but no GoodNites.
      No longer worried that someone might recognize me, I
headed for the main aisle ways. The store was still not as
busy as it gets in the afternoons but there were still
quite a few people shopping. I spied into each cart as I
walked past them. I made my way toward the front of the
store on the hunch that maybe whoever grabbed those
GoodNites might be in one of the checkout lines. There were
only two cashiers on duty that early in the day and no one
in either line had any diapers or GoodNites that I could
see. I was consciously aware that I was not being as covert
as I should have been but my excitement had taken over
control from my rational thinking and I just had to find
out who took those GoodNites!
      I was at the far end of the checkout lanes now and
close to the exit doors as well as electronics area. I
feigned as though I was checking out some of the DVDs but I
was really watching the two open lanes from a distance for
anyone entering them. Man, my heart was thumping like
Indian war drums and I am sure I looked just like a kid
high on sugar!
      I must have been standing at the DVDs for maybe ten
minutes, I really don't know, when I saw that same blonde
boy I had seen in the toy area get in line with what I
guessed was his mom. He was bouncing on his tiptoes begging
her to let him have something but I could not tell what he
wanted from where I was across the store and that is when I
spied the dark blue package of GoodNites in his mom's cart.
      "Oh my gawd! How could I have missed it?" I said to
myself.
      I began walking toward the boy and his mom, I was
focused on the boy, looking right at him he had his back to
me, his mom was looking at the tabloids. Were his pants a
bit bulkier then they normally should be? Was I just
imagining it? Maybe they aren't for him; maybe but... I was
now no more then twenty-feet from him, now fifteen-feet,
twelve-feet, ten...
      I felt a hand take hold of my shoulder, gripping hard
and stopping me in my tracks.
      "Simon David Leonard Junior! Why aren't you in school,
young man?"
      There was no time for my brain to identify the voice
as the hand on my shoulder gave me a violet tug and spun me
around so fast I nearly fell had the hand not held me from
doing so. Standing there looking like absolute evil was my
Aunt Catharine, my mom's older, fatter and oh so much
uglier sister! She had her face so close to mine I could
see her nostrils flaring and smell the stench of her booze
and bad cheese on her breath! She was yelling so loudly
that everyone in the store stopped and was staring at us.
As she shouted all three of her chins shook violently. She
wrapped her man-size left hand around my right upper arm so
tightly that I started to cry from the pain. I was dancing
on the tips of my shoes, trying to keep up with her as she
half-dragged, half-carried me out of the store like I was a
little child. She continued to berate me in front of all
the shoppers and store employees without any regard for
them and she continued the entire way out to her old faded
olive green Plymouth Fury where she literally picked me up
and threw me into the back seat and buckled me in.
      Terror had replaced all other feelings and thoughts as
I heard her say something about taking me home. The car
groaned under her weight as she settled into the drivers
seen never stopping it seemed to take a breath while she
carried on spouting her evil words toward the windshield.
As we were pulling out of the parking place, I saw my bike
still chained up in front of the store.
      I shouted through my sobs, "MY BIKE!"
      The car stopped backing up with a jolt, as if it hit a
brick wall.
      Slamming the gear shifter into park, she threw herself
back out the door and rounded back to my door where she
jerked it open.
      "KEY!" she spat.
      I fumbled feebly for the key in my pocket for a moment
before locating it. She snatched it from my hand at the
moment her eye caught sight of it.
      Storming, she made her way over to my bike, unchained
it from the bike rake and with one arm lifted it from the
ground.
      I remember thinking how someone so very obese could be
so incredibly strong, too.
      Within a moment, she had my bike stowed in the trunk
and was back behind the wheel again spouting off her anger
with me.
      Less then five minutes later I was standing in the
kitchen of my own home, my aunt standing next to the
breakfast table looking righteously indignant while my
mother's anger erupted only inches from my face.
      After an unknown number of minutes of uncontrolled
furry my mom sent me to my room, as I left the kitchen I
heard my aunt say, "You should beat that boy senseless!"
      I spent several minutes setting on the side of my bed,
sobbing and trying to regain control of myself before my
bedroom door flew open and my mom announced that I was
going to school and she was talking me!
      That was the moment that I remembered my schoolbooks
were in my backpack and my backpack was still behind the
service counter at Wal-Mart.
      I swallowed hard against the enormous knot in my
throat, "My books are still at Wal-Mart."
      I realized instantly that this was not what she wanted
to hear. I had not thought it possible for her face to turn
any darker a shade of red but it did. Through clenched
teeth she shrieked, "You - will - go - and - get - them -
then! Go - get - in - the - van!"
      I raced past her, keeping my backside purposefully
pointed away from her; however, that didn't stop her from
taking a swing that only just missed my left ear and
connected smartly with my cheek. This started the tears
flowing again as I ran down the hallway with her hot on my
heels.
      After all of that I never would have thought I could
feel more humiliated but I was wrong. Having to go back
into Wal-Mart to retrieve my backpack and having the entire
store's employees see me being escorted by my mom who had a
hold of my hand like I was a toddler was devastatingly
humiliating.
      After being dropped off at school and escorted to the
office where I got another chewing out by my mom in front
of the vice principal and two other office personnel, I was
escorted to my Social Studies class by my mom and the vice
principal who, in front of my whole class told my teacher
what I had done that morning with me no longer in tears but
obvious to all that I had been crying.
      When finally mom and the vice principal had left and
things settled down, I had time to calm down and reflect. I
realized that things could have been much worse then what
they were. I was so glad that my real reasons for skipping
school were not discovered but I was equally disappointed
that what could possibly have been my one and only shot at
seeing an older kid in diapers or GoodNites was snatched
away from me.
      The rest of the school day went pretty much as you
might expect. Some students teased me about the way I had
arrived, others thought I was some kind of super kid having
nearly gotten away with skipping school, and then there was
BJ, my only real friend. BJ was not mad that I skipped
school, and he wasn't mad that I got caught, he was just
mad because I skipped school without him!
      After I told him all the gruesome details, of course I
built it up a bit to make it sound as though my capture and
torture was some grand adventure, he seemed a bit less
upset about not getting to cut classes and a bit more
relieved he had not had to face the firing squad as I had.
      After school my dad was setting out front to pick me
up just like every other day, except he didn't have a happy
look on his face. As I shuffled my way to the car I knew
mom had called him at work and told him everything; I knew
I was in for it... again. I knew that look in dad's eyes, I
knew I was going to be getting it big time when we got home
and that lump reappeared in my throat. It was all I could
do to keep from breaking down into tears again as I climbed
into the backseat and buckled myself in.
      There was not a word spoken all the way home. When we
reached the house, I went straight to my room without being
told. I heard dad in the kitchen talking to mom but I could
not make out for myself what they were saying.
      While I stood in the middle of my room petrified with
fear, the thoughts of what sort of punishment I was going
to get flashed before me like violent movie scenes.
      "Twelve, I'm almost twelve, he wouldn't spank me would
he?" I remember thinking to myself.
      I was brought back to the present when I heard my dad
shout a curse so loud I thought for a brief moment that he
was in my room. It shocked me, I had never heard him so
much as us a slang word before let alone a curse word. My
body began to shake uncontrollably with fear. Within
minutes I knew he would be coming in my room to kill me and
no amount of begging, pleading or apologies would stay my
execution.
      Tears were rolling down my face, my chest heaved with
each sob. Somewhere inside of me a message was sent to my
feet to move and they responded by taking me over to my
desk where I had set my backpack of books and homework.
      Maybe it was out of some sense of impending doom that
I found myself setting at my desk and beginning my
homework. Every day of my young life it has been a daily
ritual for my parents to yell, bribe or threaten to get me
to actually set down and do my homework but for some reason
I sat down at my desk and started working. Every few
minutes I would hear one of my parents raise their voice in
anger. I had never heard them argue so long before and that
scared me even more, which pushed me to work harder and
faster on my homework.
      Not too long afterward, all of my schoolwork was done,
which surprised even me. The rest of the house was quiet; I
don't know when they stopped yelling, either. Tears were
still trickling down my face whenever my mind would allow
my imagination to run free but my sobs had eased. After
putting all my things back in my backpack, I placed it by
my bedroom door just like every other evening. I then took
off my school uniform, hung it all in the closet nicely,
another thing that always took a generous amount of
persuasion on my parents part to get me to do. I put on my
brown corduroy pants, the thickest pants I owned and my
superman sweatshirt. I sat on the edge of my bed, tear-
stained face beat red, and waited for the inevitable.
      The house was quiet, very quiet. I didn't hear
anything form either of them, no smells wafted down the
hallway from the kitchen and no TV sounds from the living
room. The silence was worse than them yelling. At least
with them yelling I knew what was happening and where in
the house they were. I've no idea how long I sat there on
the end of my bed with my bottom clenched in anticipation
of the swats that were to come. In the end, my dad never
came in my room, not a single word or noise was made all
evening. Sometime around five or was it six I must have
fallen asleep and I awoke the following morning lying on my
bed, still fully dressed.
      I sat up on my elbows and looked over at my alarm
clock glowing its ghostly red glow from my desk, it read
4:37. Almost two and a half hours before I had to get up
for school again. My stomach gave out a wicked growl and I
realized I had gone to sleep without supper and they never
came and got me, either.
      I looked down at my pants and sure enough, they were
totally soaked as was my sweatshirt and the bedspread under
me. I closed my eyes for a moment to lock the picture in my
mind before getting up, pulling my wet clothes off down to
my yellow stained underwear and my socks. I put my wet
pants and shirt into my laundry basket in the closet and
after retrieving my slippers from under the bed; I decided
to venture out of my room still clad in my wet underwear.
It wasn't uncommon for me to walk around the house in clean
underwear or in a GoodNite wet or dry but despite the
previous events, I still got a trill that stirred something
just below my belly button to walk through the house in
just my wet underwear.
      A nightlight in the hallway cast ghastly shadows that
quicken my core. Have you ever noticed the weird noises a
house makes late at night? I've often wondered why we never
hear those sounds during the day.
      The living room was bathed in the blue glow of the
cable box clock setting on top the TV. In the dim blue
glow, I made out what could only be my dad asleep on the
couch with his back to the room. I can only assume that
after their argument, either he chose to sleep on the couch
or mom made him whichever way, I knew it was my fault.
      Quietly, I crept through the room as I made my way to
the kitchen, which was gently lit up by another nightlight
by the sink. I didn't want to open the refrigerator for
fear that the light from inside it might wake up dad so I
went to the pantry closet and got a package of Pop Tarts. I
couldn't see what flavor they were in the dark, but I also
didn't much care. I would rather eat anything there in the
dark then to risk waking up my dad. I was also afraid the
crinkling of the foil wrapper as I opened the Pop Tarts
might wake him as well, so I decided to take them to my
room and eat them there. I knew I was breaking one of my
mom's biggest rules, 'No food out of the kitchen or dining
room ever!' but it was a rule that I felt, at the moment,
was less important then waking the sleeping giant on the
couch.
      Once back in the solitude of my bedroom I kicked off
my slippers, stripped off my wet underwear so that I was
completely naked, got a GoodNite from my top dresser drawer
and put it on. It felt snug and comfortable against my
moist skin. I took the pillow from my bed and blanket that
was folded over the foot of the bed and slipped into the
bottom of my closet with my Pop Tart.
      The bottom of my closet has been sort of like my own
little secret fort for a few years now. The carpet and
padding on the floor are really soft and squishy. I love
the feeling of it against my bare legs. I've spent many
afternoons and nights setting in the closet with a
flashlight and a notebook or a teen baby story that I had
printed off the Internet to read while I was alone. Of
course, if mom and dad knew that I was reading that kind of
stuff they would have me committed to some wackotarium.
      So in these wee hours of the morning I am now setting
here in the bottom of my closet, eating wild berry flavored
Pop Tarts, wrapped in a nice soft blanket resting against
my pillow with a now wet GoodNite on and writing all of
this days events down so that I don't forget anything.
      I'm not crying anymore, and I don't know what is going
to happen to me when mom and dad wake up. The last time
they had a fight where dad ended up on the couch, neither
of them talked to each other for several days before they
finally made up. I don't even remember what that one was
about but it was around the end of last spring, I think.
      The only time I can remember a worse fight between
them was when mom found out that dad had another child by
another woman. That child was my half-brother. Dad started
having an affair with this woman while mom was pregnant
with me and it ended during my seventh birthday party when
the woman came over drunk and was spouting off things about
my dad. As it turned out, she didn't know my dad was
married to my mom and when she and my mom found out it was
like World War I and II all over again in our backyard. All
my friends ran from my party in fear, which is why to this
day I have only one real friend, and that is because his
family didn't live here then.
      I've just peeked out the closet door at the clock and
it is about twenty minutes to seven, which means it is
almost time for my alarm to wake me up for school. I am
going to go ahead and go take a shower now and then get
ready for school. Maybe if I don't give them any reason to
yell at me this morning . . . well who knows.