I slammed the front door behind me and threw my books down on the couch. “Mom! I’m home!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

“Shut up! Your father is sleeping! I just a call from school! You beat up a little kindergartener?! You’re suspended!? Get in your room! Your father will beat you when he wakes up!” Mom looked strung out and mad.

“Whatever!” I shouted and slammed myself into my room.

“You’re grounded!” she shrieked at the closed door.

I opened my window and climbed out. I had to get out of this place. I jumped the neighbor’s fence, pulled the flower heads off their stems, and kicked their garbage cans over. There was a quarter shining on their driveway, so I picked it up.
I walked the three blocks to the Arcade. I looked at the ground the whole time. I tied a string around the quarter and walked in. There was a shrimpy kid playing my game, so I pushed him away and scowled at him. His eyes widened in fear and he left. I put my quarter-on-a-string in and pulled it back out.

I needed game therapy.