I awake to the sound of Mom’s angry, slurred screaming. I pray she is not angry with me. Mom is never not drinking. She tends to get a good buzz going around 10:00am, when she first gets out of bed. It is 6:46am now. I guess it started early today. I feel a sense of relief when I hear the phone slam down. Unless she was talking to my school, I’m not the one in trouble. After a few moments of silence, I escape my bedroom, my backpack in hand, and hurry out the front door. Just as I step into the street outside my family home, Dad’s truck comes squealing around the corner at the end of the cul de sac. I’m sure he’s been drinking too. I step quickly out of the way as Dad’s truck speeds past, into the back yard. I am the first at the bus stop just a couple houses down from mine. I feel mortified as my parents’ loud fighting is audible even here. Other children slowly join me at the bus stop. I don’t know whether to apologize for or deny the disturbance down the street. Dad comes speeding by and stops with screeching tires a short distance past my friends and me. He reverses quickly, stops in front of me, and demands, “Get in!”. I tell him, “I’m good. I’m going to school.” He violently shifts his truck into park, climbs out, and grabs me by the arm. I guess I’m not going to school today.