I REFUSED to go to school when I was in my foster home. When the psychologists and DOCS workers were more insistent I just hid in the bottom of the cupboard.
They couldn’t find me for hours. I heard them search the house for ages. They found me though. And I was stuck in the bottom. I couldn’t get out and it meant I had to listen to their “come on, get out of there” and “you’re being silly” and the typical lectures. They tried pulling me out, but it was a tight cupboard and I was clinging tighter than a slightly out-of-favour politician in an election campaign.
I wasn’t getting out and I wouldn’t give up.
But I was sick of the stale mate. So I let them think I was hungry and we sat in the dining room. As soon as the psychologists guard was down I ran out the back door and climbed on the roof by standing on the side fence.
I could see the surrounding suburbs. “Hi Chris,” my little brother shouted, coming home in light blue cotton shirt and black shorts. His new school uniform. “Can you try and get my Action Man from there?” but it was in the gutter too far in a higher spot.
And I stayed there till sun down.
We didn’t last at that home much longer. We went home, and for a few weeks that was okay. But then after visiting DOCS I watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on TV and I didn’t want to leave.