I'm fifteen years old. For reasons I can't remember, I've been told that I can't go to the Halloween party that a friend of mine is throwing a few blocks over. I go up to my bedroom on the second story. I put on my sexy goth ballerina costume. I open a window and sneak out on the roof. As soon as I get outside, I feel a gust a cold wind. I go back inside and grab a jacket from my closet. I sneak back out onto the roof. I walk to the edge and look over. It's not that far but I know better than to jump. Instead, I go over to where the fence meets the house. I slowly put on foot on the fence and try to balance. I then start to move my other foot down to the fence. The wind is really blowing now. I lose my balance almost immediately a fall off the roof. I fall on my back but at least I'm in the front yard. Taking a deep breath, I stand up and brush off my costume. Ignoring the pain in my ankle, I walk to the party.

When I come back several hours later, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to sneak back in without waking everyone up. I'm limping, too. The party wasn't that good. I wish I hadn't gone. But at least it was an adventure and at least I didn't allow anyone to tell me what to do. I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself....

Until I see that the lights of the house are on. My mom is sitting out on the front porch. She knew what I did. And she knew I would eventually come back. I'm expecting to get yelled at. I might even hear the dreaded, "We're calling your father." Instead, she's more concerned about why I'm limping. We sit at the kitchen table. I tell her about the party. She tells me that if I'm going to be stupid enough to sneak out, at least be smart enough to go out the back door instead of jumping off the roof. I ask her what she thinks of the costume. She asks where the rest of it is. I get grounded but, since my birthday is coming up, it's a suspended sentence.