“Plus, they match my dress really nicely,” I said.“What?!” he shouted.I placed my hand on his leg and leaned in further.“I said, they match ...y dress nicely!” I was shouting behind his ear as not to deafen him.He scanned my outfit quickly and then nodded.“Do you like my dress?” I asked. I moved my hand further up his leg. He turned his head and got close to my ear.“Yes, it’s very nice,” he said, looking me in the eye.I paused for a moment staring back into his.“Do you think I look good in it?” I. That is until I had the truck.When I turned seventeen, the age I am now, I stopped listening to Mom and ran wild. I picked up a few tickets, started drinking and smoking weed. This was like the previous times I was picked up for smoking, the cops were taking me home instead of to jail, but that was going to stop.The officer that took me home told Mom it would be the last time they would show me any preferential treatment. The next time I got caught doing anything, I was going to jail. Mom. More

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