Amoah, 1

Amy Amoah
Mrs. Kasyanik
English 9H 2B
11/29/15
Locked Out
The bus came to a halt in front of my outdated apartment complex. At last, I was home
and a sense of relief overwhelmed my exhausted, brain dead self. A herd of students hurried out
of the yellow school bus, heading towards the daycare center that operated on the first floor of
the building. I, on the other hand, started for the elevator with my ten year-old brother, my best
friend, and two other tenants.
Moments later, the elevator hastily slithered open on my floor, and after a brief exchange
of goodbyes, I hurried to my apartment, ready to relish a two hour nap before bustling to finish
my homework and chores before my mothers arrival.
Naturally, I unzipped the back pocket of my book bag and peered into it, expecting to
find my key planted at the base, but all I was greeted with was black nothingness. I frantically
ransacked my hand through every nook and cranny of the space. My eyes quickly darted to my
brother; his questioning eyes spoke volumes. I quickly assured him that it was probably
concealed in another compartment of the bag, but his raised eyebrows suggested otherwise. He
knew, as well as I did, that my search for the key was taking longer than normal, but he still
crouched down beside me to help me unpack all the contents in my book bag. Afterwards, I
forcefully shook the bag, jerking it barbarously with all the strength I could muster from my
tightly tensed arms, hoping for the key to plummet to the ground. It never did.

Amoah, 2
As soon as my brother realized I didnt have my key, he began pestering me on my
irresponsibility as I nervously packed my bag, contemplating what to do in the meantime. He
pled that we go up to my best friends apartment, but I rejected the idea, concluding that it would
be a burden to knock on her door unexpectedly because I lost my keys. It wouldnt have been the
first time, but I wanted the first to be my last, so instead, I convinced him to stop by our aunt and
uncles apartment a few floors above us, but after several knocks and no answer, I felt stranded
and left with no other alternative. In frustration, my brother and I traveled back down to our floor
and decided to hang out for a while to pass the time. Unfortunately, hunger and exhaustion ended
our wait shorter than expected. We tried again for my aunts apartment, but there was still no
answer. I had no choice but to go up to my best friends apartment once again and ask to stay
over.
My knuckles lightly tapped on her door, the thud softly ricocheting off the walls. I stood
there for a while, knocking and waiting, but no one came to our rescue after what seemed like an
eternity. The palms of my hands moistened and my heart began palpitating. Two little children
combing the apartment and lingering by a door; how did that look like to onlookers passing by?
My cousin was set to be by the apartment in an hour to babysit us, but we couldnt just wait
around. The only solution was to trudge to the office and request for a key, unfortunately, that
option was forbidden. Then again, standing alone and unguarded was risky; we needed a key,
and we needed to be home safe and sound.
It took a lot of effort to convince my hesitant brother to come with me. It seemed like
every turn I wanted to take, he wanted to divert. He finally agreed, though, and together we
trekked out in the wind, down a block, and into the main office.

Amoah, 3
It was definitely a sight as we sat there waiting to be tended to, but moments later, it was
finally our turn. I explained our dilemma and the manager suggested we wait a moment as she
contacted maintenance. She got through and gave us the okay to go back. It was Jason, a
friendly technician that assisted with our move into the apartment, who opened our door with his
master key. Before he left, though, he made a statement that struck my core like a hard blow to
my abdomen. It sent a ripple of emotions through me because he believed we stayed home alone,
and before considering her job, my mother constantly advised us not to draw attention to
ourselves as we waited for cousin to arrive and babysit us.
I did finally confess to my mother once she complained about calling several times with
no answer. Her disappointment intertwined with anger forced a bucket load of tears down my
face, piercing my eyes. The back of my clammy automatically wiped the tear drops staining and
wetting my face. I knew I was in the wrong, but all I could think about was the decrease of trust
she had in me.

Reflection
Losing my key, unfortunately, was something I often used to do when I was younger.
However, that particular day was the only time I was truly stranded with my little brother
following in suit. Even after several years that painful experience still remains fresh in my mind.
I made very selfish and silly mistakes that could have easily been avoided by just admitting to
myself that I had done wrong. Instead, I attempted to fix the problem. My wise younger brother
was the only reasonable one in the situation, urging me to do the right thing. I dont think my
trust was ever truly restored because my parents are always cautious leaving me alone even

Amoah, 4
though I much older now. Sadly, I am still struggling to implement lessons I learned from that
day such as acknowledging advice from those younger than me and requesting for help even in
humiliating situations. Luckily, I have not been caught in such a situation this past year.