But right before middle school graduation, I came home from school one afternoon to find my mother and grandmother rummaging through my closet. They were cutting my skinny jeans into pieces and throwing them away. When I asked my mom why, she said, "They're inappropriate and revealing. For the first time in middle school, I was relieved to have a uniform.
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When he wrote, "Want to go to Chipotle this Friday? I was super excited and typed back, "Sure." I told my parents that I was going to see my 24-year-old cousin.
She was the only person I was ever allowed to visit. At the end of our date, I told him that I'd be in touch over Facebook, and floated home.
I don't have too many memories of my sisters, but I do remember how much my oldest sister loved Usher.
She was 13 and she'd sing along to his music on the radio in our room.
In fact, I really wanted a job, even if it was just working at my step-dad's gas station. I even asked my step-dad if I could get a workers' permit, which you can get at 15 in Chicago, and he said, "Sure! Facebook was the only way for me to stay in touch with my friends.
" But just like with high school, nothing ever happened. I made up a random name that my parents could never guess and chatted with friends throughout the day.
I was four-months-old when our father died — he worked at a gas station and was shot during a robbery.
After that, the four of us moved into the basement apartment of my mom's mother's house, where my sisters and I shared a room. She was rebellious and loved pop music and makeup, which my grandmother and mother couldn't stand.
Who would I listen to the radio with late at night? So when my mother told me that they wanted to stay in Palestine, I got grade, our class took a field trip to tour the high school.