"Kyle?"
I froze in my tracks at the voice, not daring to look up as my heart thumped in my chest like a jackhammer at the thought of my mom catching me sneaking out this late. Cursing under my breath, I reluctantly turned around to find my mom standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a steaming mug in her hands, and her thick black braid frizzy from trying to sleep.
"What are you doing out here so late?" she asked, her eyes falling on my shoes in my hand. "And why are you dressed?" My tongue was suddenly too big for my mouth.
"I, uh, I'm going for a walk," I cringed at the way she narrowed her eyes as she moved towards me; it wasn't my best cover-up, and I knew my mom could see straight through it.
"Kyle," she said slowly, raising an eyebrow.
"Look, I'm obviously going to go out, OK?" I said, hoping that would satisfy her. "And I'm going to be back tomorrow."
