Life On the Edge

I was sprawled over my bed, looking out my window at the streets of London, listening to Mother's voice drawl on and on about how I should be a proper lady, and how it would be best that she sent me to that stupid academy. What was the point? Growing old, well, that's life. But growing UP is optional. And growing up was something I didn't want to do. "Oliver!" she scolded. "Are you even listening to me?" "What?" I asked, my head slowly moving up. "Oh uh, yeah, prim and proper lady, yep." I mumbled, shoving my head back into my pillow. "NO, I was saying how I'm sending you to the academy!" At that statement my head snapped up. I was furious. "What?! WHY? I'm perfectly fine here!" I snapped. But then I realized, I wasn't. I snuck out with my friends, I drank here and there, I skipped classes, and to say that my grades weren't all that high would be an understatement. "No, you are not. Do I have to say why?" She was raising her voice, and I knew I wasn't going to win this battle. "No," I mumbled, defeated. Mother huffed, and stood up straight, smoothing down her stiff pencil skirt. "Good. Now pack your bags, we're leaving in the morning, I'm dropping you off at the airport." And that, I must say, was Mother's first mistake.