My mother always told me that I was going to be just like the boy who cried wolf. She always said one day I was going to cry and no one would listen. My favorite was crying sick from school. My sister always told me that there would be one day that I cried sick and no one would believe me. I never paid her any attention, for I was a year older and I knew it all at the age of 13. However, I would learn my lesson the hard way.
             During my junior high school years, I was never particularly fond of going to school, but at my age who was. I enjoyed staying home and tuning into all my favorites, Jerry Springer, Ricki Lake, and Jenny Jones. Since these show only came on during school hours, I was often "sick" so I could stay home and watch what was to me, must see t.v. I was successful at convincing my mother that I was ill and should stay home most times, but then she begin to catch on to my sickness game. I think it was the fact that I was perfectly healthy by the time she was home from work.
             Every morning it was my ritual to convince my mother that I was not feeling well. I would tell her that I was in terrible pain and would most likely be sent home early anyway. I watched her face go narrow it seemed. A face that said "not again Najaah", or "what is this the third time this week". I could tell by her faces that this was getting old. Soon she begin to ignore my routine. But I still tried. Although I knew she would make me go to school, it was habit. I would clutch my stomach, leave cracker bits in the toilet posing as vomit, or I'd complain of earaches, toothaches, headaches, and at times whole body aches, just to get out of going to school.
             "Najaah, why aren't you up for school yet," I heard my mothers voice roar from another room. This was a voice I had never heard in the morning. This voice usually came with broken things, such as curfews and glass. This voice almost made me no...