I push a chair up to the cabinet and stand on my tippy toes; reaching up, up, up, stretching as far as I possibly can trying to reach the box of cereal. Mama and Papa are still asleep, and I am starting to get really hungry. I learned the hard way not to wake them, especially on the weekend. They both work really hard all week, so the least I can do is not bother them. My fingers just brushed the cereal box, so I stretched even further.

"James," A voice from behind me spooks me, causing me to stumble a bit, but not fall. I turn to see my Auntie Marcia. "What're you doing, little buddy?"

"Mama and Papa ar-aren't up yet," I explain to my Auntie. "I was starting to get h-hungry." Auntie Marcia sighed mumbling something about it being a-quarter-till-three.

"How 'bout you get dressed, and I take you out to eat?" Auntie Marcia helps me down from the chair and ruffles my hair a bit. My eyes light up. I don't get to go out to eat often since Auntie Marcia is the only one who takes me, and she has a tight budget.

I rush back to my room and start changing out of my PJs into some daytime clothes. I decide to wear a pair of jeans, and a blue sweater since it's been getting colder lately. While I change, I hear my Parents shouting at Auntie Marcia. This happens every time Auntie Marcia tries to do anything for me. Since Auntie Marcia isn't my real aunt, my parents complain that she gives me too much attention for a babysitter.

I walk back down the hallway cautiously not wanting to add fuel to my parents' argument with Auntie Marcia. I peer into the living room where the fight was going down.

"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Mama breathes in her morning cigarette. "You trying to groom him or something."

"No Mrs. Dolten nothing like-like that." Auntie Marcia seems disturbed by my mother's words. Her eyebrow pinch together has to shakes her head indignantly.

"Au-Auntie Marcia," I announce my presence in a shy timid voice. Everyone turns their attention towards me. I can feel the intensity of their stares as I stand by the entrance to the living room. "I-I'm ready to-to go."

"Marcia get out," Papa says blandly. "James you're not going anywhere. You're grounded."

I hang my head. I hate being grounded. It always hurts. I manage to mutter out an "Okay Pa-papa," as I start walking back to my parents' room. Marcia gets up and quickly walks up to me before I made my way back to Mama and Papa's room.

She hugs me close to her chest with a tenderness I can find nowhere else. She leans in and whispers gently into ear, like an ocean breeze, "You can always run." But I never did.