Locked Out

Remember when Razor Scooters were cool?

I owned one.  Rather, I should say I still own one.  It has been sitting in the garage for a long time now.  More importantly, I actually bought this scooter myself in 7th grade.  I scrounged up whatever lunch money, birthday money and whatever I had together to purchase one, back when it was still expensive from all the hype.  My parents didn’t have any intentions of buying me one anytime soon anyway.

I took pride in it; it was mine.

So, one day after school, my sister and I decided to ride our scooters around the backyard, because why not?  It was a pretty nice day outside and I wanted to ride my new scooter as much as possible.

I forget how or when, but our family was gifted a scooter about a year earlier for some reason, and my sister decided to claim it as her own for the longest time.  Though, probably due to poor storage, it was noticeably rusty and rickety.  The wear and tear on it made it slow and the wheels didn’t do a whole lot of spinning.

Seeing the pristine condition of my scooter and the soft glide it had with every stride, my sister wanted to use my new scooter.  I quickly said “no”, because 1. She has a scooter, 2. I was so happy to be riding my new scooter, and 3. She spent lots of time NOT letting me ride “her” scooter when we only had that one, so I was just returning the favor.

She pleaded a few times more before she stormed back into the house.  She was so mad she locked the door behind her.  Yes, because I let her taste her own medicine, she locked me out of the house.

12 years old, no cell phone or keys in pocket, no backpack, no water bottle, no snacks or food.  And I already conceded to the fact that my sister probably went straight to her room to take her typical 3 hour after school nap.  So I didn’t even waste my energy and time trying to knock on the doors or windows.

So I just scootered around and day dreamed.  What else could I do?  I couldn’t even work on my homework even if I wanted to.

It was nightfall by the time my dad got home.  He saw me scootering in the backyard like an idiot.  It was cold outside and I was only wearing only shorts and a t-shirt.  I told my dad what had happened, and I thought for sure my sister would be in big trouble.

My parents barely gave her a stern talking.  For locking me out, potentially getting me sick and what not, she was talked to as if she had accidentally left the milk out.

You know what the worst part is?  Two weeks later my dad bought my sister a new scooter because she really wanted one..

Feels Bad Man.


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