Tate

I am a fantastic liar. Which is a great quality to have when you literally have to impersonate someone to be allowed to enter a public restroom or interview for a job.

You could call me a master con artist basically. I could even try to be a mime If I had the motivation to do so.

Lying just runs through my blood supposedly. For instance, other illegal children are usually unplanned, accidental, or just plainly unavoidable, but my parents knew what they were doing.

They were young when they had my two older brothers, high school young and college young. They partied for a majority of their youth, getting wasted on Wednesday's type shit. My dad failed out of college while my mom failed out of high school. They averaged about 258 detentions all together.

So yes, rebellion, lying, and scum runs in this blessed family.

When the newest law was placed about death penalties for entire families if found carrying, and/or hiding a forbidden child, they went a little sex crazy.

No birth control or condoms would be found in this household, honestly they probably can't even afford it. If you don't graduate job academy it's almost impossible to make income.

My dad, Talbot Whiteford, now owns a hot dog cart on fifth avenue street. While my mom, Silvia Whiteford, poses in shopping windows with clothes that barely cover anything.

Even though they seem like horrible parents and trashy role models. They made my life a blast. They taught me every trick in the book to the point where I can walk the busy streets of Oregon without any suspicion what so ever. I have never once felt like a forbidden child.

Maybe every illegal kid needs washed out parents. No pain no game my man.

My brothers both left the house as soon as they graduated high school. We haven't heard from them since. I got into the school records though from eavesdropping on my perfect brothers who had keys to the administration office to be kiss asses. They keep updated information on their successful students to change the education system for the better. At least thats what the infomercials say.

Both of them were denied scholarships to Job academy. Sucks for them.

My fake story is that I am Mr. Worcester's aid until he passes. He is an old man who lives in an even older mansion and hasn't come out in over 50 years. No one is even brave enough to step foot on his property. I don't even get asked to show my I.D. because of how known I am that I go inside the forbidden palace and help the meanest man in Portland, Oregon.

I can walk the streets like a normal human being, while also going grocery shopping for the "old man" AKA my family.

I am a life saver for my nut job of parents.

I keep us fed, loved, and most importantly not wanted.

My real story, is that I am a forbidden child that CAN lie to save his life. I am Tate Whiteford, 15 years young, and would like to continue growing young for many years. There are so many lies and tricks I want to try on these fools that act so tough while looking for kids like me. Hah losers.

I have dirty blonde hair thats pretty long since we don't have money to buy shit.

I only own two pairs of jeans and a bunch of holy T-shirts, but not the saving grace holy if you know what I mean.

My life was already adventurous especially including that I've probably lied to 18 state officials now about who I am and what I am doing, but It was nothing compared to what I tried next.

I entered RealReb, the mobile phone store. Basically the hub, the base, the legend of the technology everyone around me has and that I wanted to get.

My dad always said," Son, common sense will always be better in the long run, book smarts will only get you so far." I have absolutely no book smarts but my common sense skills give me a pretty good boost.

So I needed a phone. A phone I could make mine, a phone I could use to contact stores and ease my way into amazing deals, a phone that will open doors for me into the comedian and acting field.

I walked in and out of the isles several times making it seem like I was browsing plans to update my gigabytes and cellular data for my RealReb account. Then I used my handy dandy multi-tool to snap the security chord off the best looking phone I have ever seen with my green eyes.  

I then replaced it with My dads old iPod he had in college. We painted it and put stickers on it to make it look realistic. It definitely did from a distance, 100%.

I pretended to drop "My" phone out of my pocket when workers were around to show them it's my phone giving them the illusion that it always was, and since I was in the updating plans section, not buying a new phone area. It made it even better. Time, Location, and Planning are everything. TLP brother. For life.

I signed into my new phone and used my basic programming knowledge to hack into RealReb's security footage and rewind the tape and clear it, so I never even stepped foot in the shop.

I got myself a new phone fellas. The system I hacked into though, I stayed in. Which is where I got the message from Ralph Miller.

"iwswe83787e8kmx"

"Hello?"

"Uhm Hello I dropped something and leaned my elbow on the keyboard and I have no idea what I just created..."

Soon, more and more people were tapping the green notification, and we had ourselves a forbidden child group chat.

It took everyone, including myself, awhile to even start trusting it and talking in it, but Ralph just has a way with people. He's a great person.

There are still some white lies I told them that I should clear up soon since I'm getting ready to travel to Utah now to meet up with everybody.

My parents think I'm going to bail out Creamy Charlie from jail again which unrealistically is more believable to them than what I'm actually going to do. I wonder what they would think about it honestly. They'd probably think it's sick, rebellion at the max, and not just me doing it.

Creamy Charlie owns an Ice cream cart on sixth avenue street. Him and my dad are rivals, I always get sent to bail him out to make it a fair competition.

Either way, my life of lies hasn't even gotten tested yet as I started my journey to the biggest lie ever told.

Only two kids per family.