Who She Thought She Was

January 1, 2010
By ISayWeCuddleNow PLATINUM, Bartlett, Illinois
ISayWeCuddleNow PLATINUM, Bartlett, Illinois
21 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
This isn't my favorite, but it's a good quote...

"The world needs Christians who don't tolerate the complacency of their own lives." - Crazy Love

As Lizzie stepped in the front door, her mother was waiting for her at the dining table.
“Lizzie, wait.”
“Ugh, what?”
“Don’t rush off to your room yet. We have something to discuss.”
“I already told you I did my missing work.”
“It’s not that.”
“Oh, whatever.”
Lizzie set her purse down on the table. She remained standing. A slight pause stood between the two.
“Well, what is it, then?” she asked.
“I was cleaning today,” her mother replied.
“But that’s none of your business.”
“It’s your room just as much as it is my house and you my child.”
“Child? Yeah, okay.”
“It’s so short.”
“Umm, no, not really.”
“How can you say that, Lizzie?”
“I don’t know where you’ve been if you think it’s really that bad.”
“Well, obviously not wherever you’ve been. Are you still hanging around Polly?”
“Why does that matter?”
“She’s a good influence on you.”
Lizzie caressed the side of the wooden chair she was leaning on. Her eyes seemed intent on the edges and sides of the chair. Her mother’s eyes were glued to her.
“Lizzie, I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. We didn’t raise you this way.”
“Well, then who raised me?”
“We’ve decided you’re coming to church with us Friday night.”
“Oh, and I really like how you’re making this decision for me.”
“We want you to dress up nice, it’s a special event.”
“Good, I can –”
“I got rid of it.”
“Wow. Okay, I’m pretty sure cleaning usually means dusting and vacuuming, not going through people’s stuff and disposing of it.”
“What makes you think that’s okay for church? Why do you even –”
“Because I like it. Is that such a problem? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Lizzie’s mother got up from the table and walked to the kitchen. Lizzie hastily grabbed her purse.
“By the way, I’m going out on Friday,” said Lizzie.
“With who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“If it’s with Polly, I’m fine with that.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure you would be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
With her bag on her arm, Lizzie ran upstairs. When her mother came upstairs and opened her door, Lizzie was sitting on her bed.
“Maybe next time you throw something out, it should be somewhere I can’t get it.”
“It’s so short.”
“It’s fine. It’s just Andr…Polly.”
“Polly. I said Polly.”
“We’ve told you many times before that it’s against our rules. You’re only sixteen.”
“I said I’m going out with Polly.”
Lizzie walked out of the room and sailed the stairs with her purse, cell, and keys.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked.
“Polly’s. I’m going to Polly’s.”
The door slammed and all became silent.

The author's comments:
A short vignette where most of the dialogue explains the story.

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