My entire life started with my headphones and my helicopter stepmother, Ellen. I was singing in my room with the volume up pretty high, not noticing how loud I was singing along. I didn't hear my mother's footsteps in the hall or the soft beep of her phone recording. I didn't even realize when my mother walked in and started filming me, face and all. How do I know this, you might ask? well, here we go: the story of how I became famous.

"Sophie!" Ellen screeched happily from downstairs. "Sophie, you're not gonna believe this!! Sophie! Sophie, come down here!"

My stepmother has had her "what the hell" moments, but she seemed like she actually meant it this time. What would you do?  I bolted down the stairs into the office, where Ellen usually did her work. She sat in her office chair with a huge grin plastered on her face.

"Okay," she sighed. "Where do I start?"

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Watch it."

"Whatever. Why did you call me?"

She grinned giddily and led me to her computer. She had an email open.

Ellen,

Your stepdaughter is an amazing singer! I'm glad you took the time to email me, and I do think she has the potential for what we need. Please, if you would send her email, I would love to get in touch with her. I don't believe she'll decline, but if she does, send her our congratulations.

"Ellen," I said, a warning tone. "What did you do?"

"Okay, don't get mad at me, but-"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah," I shushed her. "The term 'don't get mad at me, but...' usually ends with something I should get mad about." I folded my arms across my chest. "Ellen," I repeated, stepping towards her. "What did you do?"

"Okay, so, um," she paused.

"Jesus, Ellen! I'm not going to bite your head off! Just spit it out!" I said in a loud voice, too loud to be just speaking, but too soft to be yelling. It was kind of just, demanding. My stepmother and I had that kind of relationship. She was technically my legal guardian, but I still acted like I was  in charge.

"I heard you singing," she said slowly.

"Uh-huh."

"And, you have a beautiful voice, so..."

"So?" I was getting angry now.

"So, you should show off your talent, you know. It's shame to hide it. So, I, uh..."

"Ellen," I repeated, my voice rising. "What. Did you do?"

"I kind of, sort of..."

"Ellen!"

"Okay, okay! I sent a video of you singing to someone who picks out actors and actresses for Broadway, and he... emailed me back," she said quickly. She flinched like I was about to hit her in the face.

"You what?!" I screamed, ready to throw her computer across the room. "You invaded my privacy, Ellen! We talked about this! I don't need a helicopter parent!"

"Sophie, I can explain myself..."

"Save it." I snapped. I turned and ran to my room, locking my door behind me. I heard footsteps behind me, and then banging on my door. 

"Sophie? Sophie, I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to..."

I flung open the door and started shrieking. "Ellen, this isn't the first time you've done something like this! First with my drawings, then with my writing! Ellen, how many times do I have to say it? Stay! Out! Of! My! Life!" At the last word, I whipped around and stomped into my room, slamming the door behind me.

"Goodnight, Sophie," I heard through the door. It took all my willpower to not retaliate. I just grabbed my suitcase from under my bed and started packing my stuff. I fit some clothes, my laptop and phone, three water bottles, two bags of chips, and some peaches in there before slamming it shut and racing out the door into 25 degree weather with nothing except my suitcase and a windbreaker. I exhaled deeply. I'm doing this. I told myself. There's no going back.

I set off. I had no idea where I was going, or what I'd do when I got there, but there was one thing that was clear: I wasn't going back.