Who hasn't keep secrets from their parents as teenagers? From the good, the bad, and the absolutely ugly, these folks share the little white lies and secrets that they kept from their families.
He Kept This Secret To Keep His Mom From Worrying
“In high school, my mom was really broke. My sister and I lived with her, and we had recently moved into a house with my mom’s new boyfriend. He had been such a cool guy until we all moved in together. He stopped paying his share of rent and utilities, and my mom (who was and still is woefully underpaid) was covering everything herself, including food for the whole house, all of our phone bills, and her car payments/insurance. Money was so very hard to come by for us, just getting by was becoming a way of life for us.
Winter came along and the temperatures dropped below 30 degrees Celsius. Mom worked mornings and her boyfriend refused to drive us anywhere before noon, so we had to figure something out. My dad decided to step in (still in our lives, we just don’t live with him and we hardly saw him until this point) and drive my sister to school. She was in grade 10 and had decided to stay at the same school as she had been for years earlier. I wanted a change and went to a closer school- still a 20-30 minute walk, but far closer than hers. The winter was sapping my energy and making me sick on my long walks to and from school; something had to be done.
Mom got me a bus pass. She saved up and spent $100 on it for four months of bussing. It was so much easier than walking and made my life so much better, I was so relieved to not be walking (I had a medical issue with my hernia, walking was getting pretty hard.. but that’s another story). The part that ill never tell her? I lost it within a week. I cannot figure out how, maybe it was stolen or it fell out of my wallet on the bus, I don’t know. I was so sad and felt so unbelievably guilty that I had refused to tell her- I kept my schedule the same and left when I normally would catch the bus, but instead of bussing I turned down a side street and rushed as fast as my half-frozen legs would go without killing my stamina. I barely made it to my classes on time for four months. All the way into spring when it started warming up.
When the pass would have expired, I was surprised one morning to find a new one left out for me. My mom put money way each paycheck for all that time because she thought the bus meant so much to me. It was very touching and I thanked her, gave her a kiss on the head, and acted like it was normal. I still feel so wrong about it… And I don’t ever want to tell her.
She tried so hard for me, and I just want her to feel like a great mom because she deserves it.”
Trying To Blackmail Her Mom’s Boss
“When I was 18, I enjoyed wearing very revealing dresses and skirts. When I was in the house I would almost always have on some comfortable short shorts and I never bothered to wear bras or panties.
My mom would always invite her friends over to our house and one of her friends was an executive at her job. The executive was a lesbian, which she was very open about.
One day I was doing homework and overheard my mom discussing work with my dad and how she was afraid they were going to select another person for a senior position my mom applied to. My mom was almost in tears as she put a lot of work and long hours into getting this promotion.
I decided to take manners into my own hands. I told my mom that I was having trouble with some business concepts and wondered if her friend from work would help me. My mom said she would help me, but I pleaded for her friend from work (the executive) to help me and she agreed.
I talked to her friend on the phone and we agreed to meet on a Saturday she said she would come over my house and I made sure my parents left as I told them I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if they were here.
I wore a tube top And some cheeky shorts that I usually wear around the house. When she arrived she looked me up and down and said wow. I said this is what I usually wear when I’m in the house and she said ok.
We sat on the couch as she explained the business concepts and I made sure she had a good look at my body while she talked. As she continued I interrupted her and told her I needed to use the bathroom so she could get a good look at my butt. When I came back from the bathroom she moved closer towards me and commented on how good I smelled. I thanked her and leaned in to smell her neck and said wow you smell delicious and started to kiss her neck.
I can tell she was aroused but felt uneasy about where this was going. I told her how beautiful she was and wanted to touch her. I started kissing her on her lips and something her just gave in because she grabbed my hair and started kissing me forcefully. We went to the guest bedroom and did everything imaginable as we orgasmed together.
Afterward, she was very remorseful and was very worried about me. I’m finding out. I told her nobody needs to know, but my mom works hard and she should take care of her. I gave Her a look and without me saying anything she understood what I meant and said ok. Two weeks later my mom was very happy because she got the promotion.
Now that I am older I am sure my mom received the promotion based on her own merits, but there is no way I could confess to her that I slept with her friend and colleague from work so that she could get a promotion.”
An Absolutely Amazing Turn Of Events And Sleight Of Hand
“Set up: Sister is four years older than I, straight as an arrow. The type of sibling who enjoyed snitching on her younger brother. No worries. She’s away at college. I am the exact opposite. Always in trouble, always playing it fast and loose.
I’m a senior in high school. I’m holding down a job, getting decent grades and my parent decide that they can finally trust me enough to take a vacation and leave me in the house. They hire a house sitter, John, who doesn’t care what I do as long as I don’t burn the place down.
On a fine Saturday morning, I wake up, pour myself a drink from my father’s (locked) drink stash and put on some dirty flicks. I’m wearing a pair of underwear and nothing else. Ten minutes later…SURPRISE! My sister walks through the door. Fortunately, I hear the car just in time to shut off the adult film and throw a blanket around my mostly bare body. Sis notices, of course, that I’m hanging out in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket, face red as a beet.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey. Didn’t know you were coming home. Errr…I’m gonna jump in the shower.’
End of story, right? Wrong.
Sis finds my drink, spiked with Dad’s spirits. I’d finished it off, but she detects the smell of spirits. Unbeknownst to me, she wraps the cup in SaranWrap, sealing in the smell. She writes my parents a note, telling them how she found the cup next to my chair when she popped in for a surprise visit. She places the cup and the note in my parent’s bathroom.
A couple of days pass. I’m preparing for my parents’ imminent return by cleaning the house. I find the note and the cup, hidden away. Not only does it implicate me, it implicates John, the housesitter. Seems that my sister also found a stash of rubbers and lubricant, elsewhere in the house. I read it. I’m beside myself. I take the SaranWrap off the cup, rinse it, replace the contents with plain Coke.
I then show the note to John, the housesitter.
John: ‘Well…she’s a bit on edge. The rubbers are mine. Just part of my overnight kit. Why was she snooping through my things?’
Me: ‘Yeah.’
The rest was like watching a predictable yet perfectly choreographed movie. My parents arrive home. John pulls them aside to talk about the note and the cup. They sniff the cup, smell nothing. They read the note, and interpret it as paranoid delusion.
My sister gets a stern lecture on the dangers of snooping and invading the privacy of others. And I, the 17-year-old slacker who nearly got caught beating it in the living room, gets an apology from my parents.
My lips are sealed. Forever.”
The Local Paper Ruined Is Little Secret
“My parents were terrified of flying, so I knew that they would be violently opposed to my taking flying lessons. One of my closest friends had an older sister who was married to a local flight instructor. While I was a high-school student with a part-time job, my friend’s brother-in-law offered to give me flying lessons in his planes at a discount price that I could afford.
Since I did not share my parents’ fear of flying and wanted to take those lessons, I kept the lessons a secret from my parents. My lessons were going well. I eventually qualified to pilot my flight instructor’s plane solo. As luck would have it, on my third solo flight my plane had a landing gear malfunction. The front wheel of the plane’s tricycle landing gear would not come all the way down and I could not be sure that the rear wheels were locked.
After trying all of the emergency measures to get the landing gear fully down, and confirming with my instructor via radio that I had followed all of the emergency procedures, I decided to land on the smooth wide grass apron parallel to the runway calculating that the smooth grass would present less of a risk of making sparks. The airport tower along with my instructor was fully aware of my predicament and, of course, scrambled the emergency fire trucks.
As it turned out my landing turned out to be a non-event. The rear landing wheels held. As the plane’s speed slowed, and there was no longer any lift on the wings, the plane lunged forward on its smooth nose and skidded to a stop. The only serious damage was to the front-wheel landing gear door. The prop was above the fuselage and was undamaged. There were no sparks, no injuries and the emergency fire trucks were never needed.
Unfortunately, our local newspaper, monitoring the airport’s radios published a front-page story the next morning about ‘Student Pilot Crash Lands Plane.’ That certainly blew my secret. Not surprisingly my parents went ballistic on me and threatened to throw me out of my home and disinherit me if continued to show ‘such lack of consideration for their feelings,’ by continuing my flying lessons. Not being in a position to defy my parents’ demands, that was the end of my piloting.
When I became financially independent of my parents, I enlisted in Air Force and scored in the 99th percentile on their written qualification exams for pilot training. Unfortunately, they informed me that I was too tall to become a pilot, so my pilot training was never continued. Instead, I spent six years mostly on the ground tracking aircraft and missiles with radar systems and keeping their communications equipment in good working condition. I will never know how becoming an Air Force pilot would have changed my life, but I have no real regrets.”
A Little Girl Makes A Stand
“My parents will never know that I beat up a bully while my mother was sick. This stupid girl wouldn’t stop saying she wished my mom was dead. She would just pick and prod at me, calling me weak whenever I ignored her.
My mother had pancreatic cancer and could barely walk by herself. The poor woman spent most of her days praying and looking for treatments. I originally ignored the bully and continued with my classes but she would not stop following me and just being a nuisance.
But one day I just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take the putdowns and abuse any longer. She made one cutting comment about hoping how my mother should just end it all herself and I absolutely just snapped on her.
One day we were riding the bus home and this girl just wouldn’t stop nagging me. I just had to get away so I got off but then she followed me, still yelling insults and comments about my mom. I walked to a gas station and once we were just out of view of the front I turned a decked her in the face with my elbow. A scuffle broke out. It was just us 13-year-old girls; yelling, crying, and pulling each other’s hair in the dirt. I was so angry. I was fighting for my mother.
In the end, I yanked her by her sweater and slammed her into the wall. All of a sudden the rage left me. I started to freak out once I realized that she could have hit her head and it could cause serious injuries.
I quickly gathered my scattered things from my bag from when my bag had fallen off of my shoulder during the fight and ran to a nearby bus stop leaving her crying and saying that I was a loser.
When I had gotten home I went through my backyard and ran upstairs to avoid my mom who would definitely hear me if I went through the front. The girl never reported it and everyone just assumed she got mugged on her way home from her injuries. That’s just how bad I roughed her up.
Even if one of us reported it, our school couldn’t have done anything since it wasn’t on the property. I got out of the fight in okay condition though. I had some bruises and small cuts on my arm from her nails though not as bad as her. It all pales in comparison to the verbal abuse I suffered.
I really did a number on that girl though. She apparently fractured her nose when she hit the wall and had to get correctional surgery. In the end, I was proud that I defended my mother but I know she would beat me if she knew that I hurt someone like that. But I don’t care. Honor means so much to my family. In a messed up way, I feel proud of what I did. My mom will never know what I’ve done, but that’s okay with me. It’s my personal victory.”
A Deeply Embarrassing Secret
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“I didn’t really hide much from my parents. But the biggest secret was my bedwetting. At the time I was 13 and had a bunch of stuff going on at once. My parents had divorced and my dad got custody. We moved to a new apartment a few cities over where he began drinking and getting violent. On top of that, I was going to a new special education school where staff and school bullies were hurting me. All the stress of everything I think was the cause of it.
I would have liked to be open about the wetting, but I saw what my brother went through. He wet the bed till he was 9 and the family was very hard on him. During a visit with my aunt and uncle, my aunt got mad at the wet bed. After dinner each night she would have him put on a pair of plastic pants. Of course, it would leak because there was no cloth diaper or towel inside to soak up the pee so it would just leak out the legs and waist holes.
The week with my grandma on my mom’s side wasn’t much better. The second night there my brother wet the pull-out sofa. She stormed out of the house and came back with a diaper from the neighbor next door. She told him if he was going to wet the bed like a baby then he would wear a diaper like one. She slammed the diaper down on the coffee table and made him stare at it all day as punishment. I guess she realized it was too small to fit him anyway. But he didn’t know that. In the end, she made him sleep in the bathtub the rest of the time there.
Anyway, due to those and other experiences by the family, I decided to keep my wetting secret. One of the few things that helped me keep the secret was my dad worked a lot and was often gone when I got up and I often had 3 hours after school before he got home. So I had time in the morning to wash my sheets and get them back on the bed before school.
On one trip to the 99 cent store I saw diapers. I decided to give them a try as the laundry was such a hassle every morning. They were a snug fit but worked. I would bring them home in my backpack and carry the wet one to the dumpster outside the apartment building in the morning. But hiding the diapers wasn’t always foolproof. I was found out twice. Not for why I wore them, but that I had them.
The first time was about 6 months after I decided to try diapers. I thought I had a great plan but backfired. I didn’t want my mom who sometimes came over or my dad to do the typical room search parents do to see if their kids have something they shouldn’t. So I hid the small 4 diaper pack behind my dad’s pull out sofa bed. When I got home from school I would stash one in the bathroom for later right before bed.
Anyway, this one evening my dad yells for me to come into the dining room. I panic when I see he’s got the small pack of diapers. He starts yelling ‘What the heck is this?’ Before I could even answer he yells “I am NOT raising another f’ing baby, I better not find these again!”. He threw them in the trash and sent me to bed. I decided I clearly couldn’t confide in him about the wetting problem.
Flash forward 3 1/2 years to a very similar situation, but this time with my mom. I was hiding the diapers in the bathroom and she found them. I came home from school to see them in the open when I walked in the house. She told me where she found them. She told me ‘If I ever find diapers again I am going to throw them on the front lawn and tell EVERYONE they’re yours.’
I realized this was something I would always have to keep to myself. And did till I was 21 when I finally told my parents. And 22 when I finally saw my first doctor about it. But yea, that was my deepest secret I tried to keep secret with every fiber of my body. At the time I thought I was the only teenager in the world who still wet the bed. So I was very self-conscious about the problem and felt I was alone in dealing with it.”
Life Hack Videos? More Like Life Attacks!
“Time to expose myself.
At the time, I wasn’t a teenager, but I was in my preteens. I couldn’t remember anything big that I hid from my parents in my teen years.
With that being said, here’s my story:
I was about 10-years-old at the time, but I was capable of being home alone, and I could take care of myself. So, it was one of those days. I had the house to myself. My mom left for work in the morning, and my dad left in the afternoon, so I was alone for a few hours. Seems normal enough, right?
W r o n g. Horribly wrong.
The last thing I expected was that day to be the most pressured day of me ever being home alone.
So my day was going pretty normal, until the afternoon came along. I was sitting on my parents bed, binge-watching some of those Life Hack videos. What can I say, I was home alone so I basically wiped out all the videos on Youtube. I was halfway through the video when I saw this one hack where you can make a custom design on your shirt, (I don’t remember how the steps were exactly, So I’m taking a wild guess from what I vaguely remember.)
You draw a design with a sharpie, put a piece of paper over the design, and lightly cover it with water. Kind of like one of those temporary tattoos.
So me being a bored and dumb preteen, I was like, ‘WELP! YOLO! Let’s do this!’
And boy did I make a huge mistake. Keep reading, it gets better.
So, I grabbed an old shirt of mine that didn’t fit me anymore to test it on (cause I wasn’t THAT dumb) and I followed the steps and drew a design on it.
Now, this is where things went wrong.
I got a cup of water from the kitchen, and I was ready to spill a little bit on the paper over my shirt, but me being the clumsy girl I was at the time, ended up spilling the WHOLE glass onto the shirt. Now you may be thinking, ‘Oh that’s not a big deal, clean it up!’
No. It was bigger than a big deal. The ink from the sharpie started running and not only ruined my shirt, I SPLOTCHED A BIG SPOT ON MY PARENTS BED.
Yes. I did this hack on my parents’ bed. And I never regretted anything more. I didn’t care if the shirt was ruined cause it was basically worn out anyway, but it literally looked like someone shot sharpie ink from a paintball shooter on my parents bed. The ink ran all the way through my shirt onto the mattress.
After standing in utter shock for like 30 seconds, I knew that the afternoon was near the time my parents came home, so I had to act fast.
Trust me, you guys don’t wanna know how scary a Turkish mom can be when she’s upset!
So the first thing I did, I got my phone, and called my mom. Here is a brief recollection of how the call went:
‘Hi, honey!’
‘Hi, mom! How’s work?’
‘It’s good. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, just wondering when you’re coming home!’
‘I’m leaving in 10 minutes! There isn’t any traffic so I’ll probably be on the road for about 35 minutes.’
‘Okay! I’m just hungry, that’s why. Bye!’
hangs up
Fyi, the time was 8:20 pm.
I knew my dad never came home at the same time as my mom, and he told me he’d come home at about 11 pm that day anyway, so I didn’t bother to call him. With that being said, I had 45 minutes to clean up my mess.
So, here’s what I did. I removed the blanket from my parents bed, I ran to my bathroom, and filled up a small bucket with water, and I took a sponge.
Being careful not to spill the water this time, I poured a small amount of soap on the sponge and dipped it into the water, and I started scrubbing vigorously
Thankfully the ink came off pretty quick, because it wasn’t dried yet. But my heart was literally beating out of my chest, because, of course, its not just any ink from a pen. This is black sharpie ink we’re talking about.
After I finished soaping the mattress sheet, there was still a slight amount of black that you could see on the mattress. It wasn’t that obvious since it was cleaned with soap, but it was still obvious. So, I cleaned the soap off the sponge, dipped it in the water again, and scrubbed the mattress again to rinse it with water
Thankfully, all the black was completely gone now. And I feel as if someone above blessed me because the smell of sharpie was also gone. I still couldn’t relax yet though. Because now- the mattress was wet. Yay!
I looked at the time and I had 10 MINUTES until my mom was home. So I quickly dumped the water out into the bathroom sink, put the sponge back in the kitchen, and then. . .
I opened the closet door and grabbed a hairdryer.
Yes. A hairdryer.
At the time, the hairdryer we had actually used to get pretty hot. So I plugged it in, and started blowing onto the mattress. It got dry pretty quick, but not completely.
Panicking even more, I quickly put the hairdryer back into the cabinet, threw my old ruined shirt away, and put away the sharpies.
After the mess was pretty much cleaned up, I still had to dry the mattress. So I picked up an electric blanket that my family owns. We normally use it in the winter. You can plug it in and it gets hot to keep you warm.
So, I put the electric blanket over the wet spot and turned it on. And lastly, I put the beds pillows back in place and put the blanket back over the bed to make it seem like nothing ever happened.
To make it even less suspicious, I grabbed my tablet, and sat on the electric blanket. As if I was in a cozy position.
A few minutes later, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs to my apartment, and I quickly lifted up the electric blanket to see if it dried the bedsheet.
And thankfully, it did. I never felt more relieved ever in my life. Never have I ever thought that a casual day of being home alone would turn into a race to clean up against time-
So my mom came home, asked me how my day was, and we just had a simple convo and ate dinner. My dad eventually came home too, and everything was normal. The bedsheet looked good as new and eventually everyone went to sleep.
To this day, I never ever told them about it, and I never dared to try another Life Hack ever again.
To everyone reading this, please DO NOT try this at home, and do not believe everything you see online. Learn from my mistakes, and realize that Life Hacks are more like Life Attacks.”
That’s A Lot For A 17-Year-Old Alright
“I’m 17 now.
My mom doesn’t know that about four months ago I let my boyfriend get me pregnant on purpose. No, I wasn’t trying to trap him or the other way around, we were both onboard. Also, he’s 19 and financially stable as well as I am, we both have high paying jobs for a couple of kids. I make $6 over minimum wage here, plus tips, and he makes $10 over.
She doesn’t know that I DID end up pregnant. I went to Planned Parenthood and had blood tests and an ultrasound done. She does know that I had a miscarriage almost a month ago. She doesn’t know that on my 18th birthday I plan to have my things packed and move in with my boyfriend, whom I’ve been with since I was 13, and drop out of high school and get my GED.
A guy at my school lied to the superintendent and said that I had told him that I would kill either him or myself if he refused to sleep with me, which is nowhere near true. But my superintendent said that I’m too much of a danger to other students and keeps me isolated in the office doing online classes, which have set me back two years already and I’m only nearing the end of my junior year.
My mom doesn’t know that I regularly drink and smoke weed (I stopped when I was trying to get pregnant and didn’t start again until my miscarriage was confirmed.) She doesn’t know that I have a Juul (She’s a cop I might add). She doesn’t know that I sneak out constantly (She tracks both my phone and my car, as well as having cameras at both doors of the house. I leave my phone in my room upstairs, lock the door and my boyfriend sneaks me out with a ladder.)
She doesn’t know that I’m bi, and I’ve been with multiple girls. My boyfriend and I are also in an open relationship.
She doesn’t know that my brother was ODing on Fentanyl-laced Xanax and I took him to the hospital at four in the morning last week before school one day and picked him up two days later. She doesn’t know that when I ran away for a week in September, I was kidnapped and violated by a 26-year-old man the whole time.
There’s a lot more, but these are the main few.”
She Kept A Very Important Secret Hidden
“You’re going to think this is silly, but it’s true.
My biological dad raised me. He did have a long time girlfriend who was absolutely abusive. She would not allow me to sit on my bed after it was made, she spanked me with those florescent orange Hot Wheels tracks frequently, for odd, unexplainable reasons. She constantly called me fat and stupid, and when I would cry, she made fun of me and called me a baby. (This is just a small handful of the things she did to me, the ones I can talk about without totally diving into severe suicidal depression )
When I was 13, this awful human being, who chain-smoked two packs of cigs a day and coughed relentlessly for years, got lung cancer. My life started looking up.
One March afternoon, right after school, I started my period. I only knew about it because of school. You know, those videos you watch in like 5th grade? Thank God for them, my dad or his girlfriend would have never mentioned it in a million years.
I was shocked, but the kind of normal shock a young girl has when this happens. I just didn’t know what to do next.
I was utterly terrified of that woman. I couldn’t ever leave my room, unless it was to use the toilet or eat at the dining room table (alone for 10 years).
I wadded up some toilet paper and put it in my underwear. I didn’t tell my dad or the woman.
Ever.
She died just a few short months after her diagnosis, and I felt that my years of prayers and wishes had been answered.
I still didn’t tell anyone I had started my period. Not my aunt, not my beloved grandmother, no adults.
I did tell my two best friends, and they actually kept me supplied with maxi pads for the next few months.
My dad got a new girlfriend, much nicer, but I was ruined, I didn’t trust anyone. She asked me one day if I’d gotten my period yet. I lied and said no.
Over the next few months, I compulsively hid evidence of my menstruation from everyone. It was an obsession! I was completely preoccupied with the thought that my dad would find out, his girlfriend, or they would be able to tell somehow.
I developed severe, clinical obsessive-compulsive disorder, along with depression. I was on Ativan full time and Zoloft at 14. (Not because of the period, just my life)
I would sneak maxi pads from bathrooms wherever I went. My money went to pads. I dreamt about pads. I still never told.
My dad’s girlfriend asked me repeatedly over the year and half she was in my life if I had started yet, and I never told her. She said I should have started by now, I retorted with some story I had heard about a girl who started when she was 18. It became such a huge secret for no reason, it was one of my worst fears, someone finding out!
I do think that being raised by an abusive parent caused extreme, unnecessary, misguided fear. I spent the next few years running away from home, sleeping around, using pills excessively, drinking daily.
Once I became an adult, I had been through enough therapy to maintain a somewhat normal life.
I’m 34 now. I have three incredible children, the most amazing husband, and I had a hysterectomy 5 years ago! No more periods! The trauma that I focussed into menstruating has been dealt with too.
I’ve also been sober coming up on 10 years.
I have a 12-year-old daughter. She started her period this year. She came running outside when I pulled my car in the driveway from work to tell me.
We celebrated.”
The Great Playground Black Market
Not trying to brag but I ran a little black market business at my school as a kid.
As I’m sure you know, school cafeterias do not sell food at reasonable prices.
You’d be looking at $4 for a carton of juice, a dollar for a couple of ice pops, $2.50 for a Pepsi – it’s a bit of a joke.
One day on the way to school, I found a dollar on the ground.
Nice.
I went into the nearest supermarket and bought a chocolate bar. Once I got to school, I reached into my bag, pulled out the bar, and prepared to open it.
A guy sat down next to me and asked:
‘Can I have that?’
‘No.’
‘Please?’
‘No.’
‘Pretty please?’
‘I’d like to inform you that the physical appearance of your vocabulary makes no difference to how I perceive it.’
‘What?’
‘No.’
The guy showed me two bucks.
I gave him the bar.
The next day I went back to the supermarket and bought two chocolate bars.
Once I got to school, I sat down and the same guy sat next to me.
He gave me $4.
I looked at him, confused.
He pointed to the two bars of chocolate in my hand.
The next day, I bought myself four bottles of juice.
As I was opening one, the same kid sat down came, and offered me $3 each.
I took it.
A few days later I was back at the supermarket.
I spotted a sale sign. It was a heck of a deal. Three 12 packs of canned soda for $10.50
All I could see was dollar signs.
I realized I could make a quick buck – I bought $12 dollars’ worth of soda, put them in my backpack, and walked to school.
I sold the cans of Pepsi off at a dollar each. They went like hotcakes. To be honest, they sold faster than hotcakes. A kid who was selling them went broke after buying heaps of pancakes and having no customers
Three days a week, I was raking in at least $15 in profit. That’s about $50 a week which is like a ton of cash for a grade-schooler. Not bad for a few minute’s work!
Then I made a horrible mistake:
Coke.
This narc Richard decided that he didn’t like me because I refused to give him a free can.
He ratted me out:
‘MISS! ASHER HERE IS SELLING COKE TO EVERYONE!’
My little black market business went down the drain in fifteen seconds.
How sad.”