One-half of Deux Lectrices, writing about the things I read.
“Oh, who cares?” I moaned as I washed the mud off my face and hands. “Who cares if Mom sees them? I’ll be doing her a favor by giving her something else to laugh at. It’ll really make her day!”
Here's something: Your parents, unless they are absolute sadists and never wanted you but had no option to raise you and brought you up, basically, Harry Potter at the Dursleys style (absolute squalor, etc), probably don't like seeing you muddy and bloody. Surprisingly, unless ofc they care that little for you, they will want to ask you what happened and, here's the thing, TAKE CARE OF YOU.
Yeah, sometimes they laugh at you, but holy hell, you undoubtedly laugh at them as well.