No Strings Attached: Breath

"How long since you brushed your teeth?"

"A few days."

"Well I think you'd better give them a good brushing this morning!"

"Yes Mum."

I couldn't tell her. She'd be disgusted. 1 was disgusted too, but it was the only way. I had to beat the other guys at something.

Mum watched me for a while, not all in one stare, but in little bits. She sat at the other end of the table, crunching her toast and sipping her cup of tea. I knew I'd never get out of the room without having to brush my teeth unless there was a major distraction.

The phone rang.

"I'll get it!"

"No, you stay right there. You haven't got time to answer phones. You have to get through your breakfast, do your hair, and brush your teeth. You're already late for school."

"AwMum."

"Don't 'aw Mum' me!"

Dad came into the room and sat down. He unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said.

Dad went "Mmm hmm" and forgot about me.

That's the trouble with parents. They say they were kids too, once, and they say they know what its like to be kids, but when you do something really cool, they go all adult and try to stop you from doing it.

Mum was talking flat out now. This would be my only chance. I grabbed my toast and pushed it into my mouth, picked up my bag, and ran. I heard Mum calling to me but she was too late. I was down the path and away.

I would have liked to explain to Mum and Dad, but I knew they wouldn't understand. It had to be a secret, at least until I was sure.

It was my breath, see? It was special. I first noticed it when I was in my bedroom, about three weeks ago.