Of course, being technically home schooled was an adventure in itself. The adults I interacted with on my walks often wondered what I was doing outside of school, especially when I first started walking to the library while all of the other schools were still in session. I always told them that I was on the way to school, and while many of them accepted this as an answer, a few wondered why I was going to school so late, especially the nosy soccer moms. I'd tell them that it wasn't late for me, but I'd be arriving to school on time at the library. Sometimes, people were still confused by this. As much as I sometimes wanted to stick around to explain to them what my situation was exactly like, I'd usually be running out of time and have to ditch those people mid-conversation in order to make it to class on time.
Back at home, my mom often had me explain my situation to guests. Most people thought that, while it was cool, it was also very strange. They didn't understand how I was getting a better education through Homebound in a quarter of the time, than I was getting in regular school. Many people, including family, also believed that I was missing out on important high school experiences, most notably having friends. However, I disagreed. I was already a master at ditching after-school activities such as dances, fundraisers, and other things like that while I was still in regular school. But, in Homebound, I agreed to join a writer's group founded by my teacher, which was basically an after-school activity. And, some people seemed almost offended that I was on a first-name basis with my teacher, and would likely be friends with him for years after school. It was almost as if they were jealous of me.
As much as people often interrogated me, I couldn't care less. For once in a very long time, I was genuinely happy and optimistic. My mom couldn't deny my brand new attitude. With help, I successfully clawed my way out the black hole my illness threw me into. While I came out of that a lot more nervous about my health than ever before, at least my mental health was recovering quickly. I had confidence in myself again, at least in some ways. I still doubted my teacher whenever he promised me I'd eventually catch up and probably even surpass many of my peers in school, but at least I wasn't afraid to try new subjects in school anymore.
My newfound confidence pushed me to do other things, such as driving. Before, I was absolutely terrified of just the thought of getting behind the wheel. While I sometimes drove anyways with my family just to get used to it, I never drove on the suburban roads, and I always had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I only drove around on the country roads while arguing with my dad about my speed. According to him (and most drivers behind me), I drove like a 90-year-old dementia patient. To me, it felt like I was driving faster than the speed limit, even though the speedometer hardly ever made it to 5 miles per hour under the speed limit.
The confidence I found in Homebound eventually translated to my driving. My dad was on the verge of getting me a cake and a few balloons when the speedometer finally reached the speed limit on the country roads. Of course, he pushed me to drive even faster than the posted speed limit. "Nothing's illegal if the cops ain't around!" my dad joked.
One day in the fall, my dad finally had to tell me to slow down for the first time. That was quite the achievement. Admittedly, I was pushing 70 miles per hour on a straight dirt road, and my dad saw a small herd of pronghorn long before I did. But once we passed them, I sped right back up. Once the dirt road turned into gravel, I suddenly slowed way down again.
My dad glared at me and remarked, "So, you're not afraid of the gravel, but you are afraid of the asphalt. It should probably be the other way around. You know that?"
"I just know the gravel better." I shrugged, "Plus, the cops are a lot less likely to be on the gravel than they are on the asphalt."
