I was sitting on the front steps on the porch of my house, trying not to think about future. A black welcome mat balding in the corners greeted the door. The white wooden door with a few spots of dirt here and there was always jammed to the frame making it grudgingly to open. It was to the point you have to lunge your body into the door for it to budge. Not to mention the locks. The ancient bronze like locks were rusted in a way where each time you inserted the key, you could feel the vibrations running through your arm from the tumblers forcing their way through their shafts.
It was Friday night and my friends were inviting me to go to Michael’s house for a
bonfire. My mom was parked on the street in front of the house. I was getting a profile glance of her rubbing her forehead, sitting in the silver Toyota Sienna. I approached her and said, “Hi mom how was work. Can I use the car to go to Michael’s house for a bonfire?” Her face flustered and sounding a bit annoyed said, “Fine go ahead but you better be home before eleven o’clock.” I graciously looked at her and said, “Ya, no problem mom” as she handed me the keys. As I get in the car I wonder too myself why my mother seemed so miserable. Is today really a good time to leave the house?

A crowd of cars massed the street all around Michael’s house making it difficult to park. So I go to the next street adjacent and park under an oak tree. As I make my way to Michael’s house I think to myself, “I really hope it’s going to be a fun night tonight.” I walk past the house into the dark abyss that is the backyard. I walk over to where a group of people are sitting and behold its people I know. They get up out of their lawn chairs and we greet ourselves with some handshakes and some hugs. I turned to one of my friends Joe and said, “Hey Joe, what’s up with the fire man.” He looks at me and shrugs, “I don’t know we were trying for like 20 minutes and couldn’t get anything to light. Give us a hand scout.” I felt the wood pile in the fire pit and the wood was partially wet from the rain that morning. I took out all of the soaked wood and replaced it with anything that was dry. Newspapers, twigs, even an old Christmas tree in the shed. I lit a piece of paper and threw it into the dry pile and in minutes the fire was blazing.
We were all gathered around the toasty fire. As a group of friends we talked about the crazy things that happened to us throughout the week or the funny things that people did. Or in my case gossiping about whom one of our friends did who recently and it was almost like a game figuring out who it was. The night was still young and my friend Tyler was sitting next to me. He leaned over and said, “Hey Spencer, you wana play a game called odds are?” Absorbed in the topic I replied, “Sure but what is this game odds are.” He said, “It’s simple. A person gives you a ridiculous dare and you tell the person giving you the dare a range of numbers you would do the dare in. If you both say the same number out of the group of numbers then the person that accepted the challenge has to do it. Or if you back out then everyone gets to give you nut shots.

The pressure was on and I had a challenge for my friend Tyler. I turned to him and I said, “Tyler, what are the odds you streak up and down the backyard fully naked.” He looks at me with a peculiar look. He pauses then says, “Sure I’ll do it out of 10.” We both shake hands, counted to 3 and then in unison, we both yelled, “4!” Everyone there was going crazy because I got Tyler. He was cornered. Either he streaks up and down the backyard fully naked or face nut shots from everyone there he chose to streak. He was like a full moon in the dark clear sky.
I soon found myself speeding home in the silver minivan my mom let me borrow. I was driving down Camp McDonald Road thinking of how my mother will react when she sees me come inside really late. I hastily park the car in the driveway and then make my way to the front porch. By the time I arrived home it was 1:30 am. Caught up in all the excitement, it was easy for me to lose track of time and I found myself trying to sneak into the dark house. The house was dark so at least my mother was asleep. As long as I got into the house without waking anyone up I will be fine.

Very quietly I inserted the key into the rusty copper lock. Inserting the key ever so gently, taking my time with it as to not alert the whole house someone was trying to get in. My movements were precise. Only minute clicks from the tumblers. I opened the door gently and very subtle to where it was taking a decade to open. The rusty door hinges made a creeeeak noise. Things were going so perfectly as I entered the house. The door that alerted everyone someone was entering was silenced to my amazement. Slowly I closed the door; there on the couch in the living room was my mom.

All my efforts, wasted and I knew I was in huge trouble. She got up off the couch and walked over to me with her pajamas and slippers. She said, “Spencer have a seat we need to talk.” Taking a huge breath I walk over to the chair next to the couch. She then says, “I am so disappointed. Why didn’t you come home before 11 like I told you.” Looking at the ground I mumbled “Sorry mom, I lost track of time from all the fun.” She looks at me with a stern face and says, “That won’t cut it anymore. You do this way too much and your grades aren’t very good right now. I stayed at Northwestern so I can give you and your brother and sister a chance at college and this is how you act. Go to your room.” Slowly I stroll up the stairs into my room.
I thrust myself onto the Tempur-Pedic bed. The soft cushion absorbs my landing and I’m lying on my bed flat on my stomach. I began evaluating my life and where I have come and thinking where I’ll be in a few years. No mom to hug me and tell me that ten years from now it won’t matter what college I went to or what crazy thing I did last Friday night. Who knows I could be homeless and there could be no Bears to cheer on. Am I crazy for stressing about this so much? Probably. But hey, I’m a senior.