DAY SIX

SATURDAY

#

LIZZIE

Today was the worst day I've ever had in my life.

In my back pocket, my phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Camille had tried to call me so she could listen in on the lecture of a lifetime, but I wasn't entertaining the idea. Parker also sent a few texts, begging me to let her take the blame.

I stood my ground, keeping my head up as I refused to cry.

Gina hid in her room while my mother's shouting rattled the house. My dad sat across from me at the table. He crossed his arms, rubbing his jaw and saying nothing. Sometimes, he'd just tip his head and examine one side of my head and then, he'd tilt his head the other way and check out the other side. Antonio Hernandez was a fortress.

My mother on the other hand was an overflowing tub of emotions that was quickly filling up the room. She broke out of Spanish to snap at me, "Elizabeth, you're grounded. You're so unbelievably grounded. You're grounded until I can look at you without crying."

"Why..." my dad started. "Why did you do it without our permission?"

"It's my hair," I said.

"That didn't answer my question."

I dropped my shoulders, looking up at the ceiling. No one wanted the power to teleport more than me. Curling my lips, I swallowed the need to burst into tears. If I spoke one word, the flood gates would open. I refused to give my mother the satisfaction of being right that I'm a cry baby, that I couldn't handle things when they got tough.

"What's done is done," my dad finally said. "You did what you did. I don't know if I like this Parker or her parents for letting you do this and it'll be a long time before we let you out on the weekends."

Turning my cry face into a scowl, I nodded.

They couldn't even spare me one compliment. For the foreseeable future, this was my haircut. The least they could do was say it looked nice... My stomach twisted. The braid was gone and my little safety blanket too. Nothing to do with my hands, nothing to keep them occupied or shield my face.

"Okay." My Dad nodded, reflecting on the moment. He said, "Go to your room."

Unless I needed it for school, my laptop was off limits. Lucky for me, my parents assumed I still didn't use my phone. I fell back against my bed, bobbing up and down. A trickle of tears slipped out the corner of my eyes, but I quickly wiped it up.

Maybe they forgot I had a cell phone since I never pulled it out. I texted Camille first because her mom and my aunt had the power to cool my mom off sometimes. My fingers worked fast to text the novel explanation of my situation to Parker, but my fat thumbs kept making too many mistakes. Giving up, I gave Parker a call.

After a few rings, I figured Parker wouldn't answer. I did burn a lot of her time yesterday, so she had to be too busy for me. My fingers itched for my laptop and all my playlists. I had an excellent playlist that started with a man hauntingly singing, "All around me are familiar faces..."

The phone line clicked, and I sat straight up, hearing Parker reply. "Hello? What's up?"

Her voice sounded distant, like I was on speaker and had to compete against something playing on the TV.

"Hey-" I said, my voice already tortured and strained. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I took a deep breath. "I know you don't like talking on the phone, but typing it up was so frustrating and I'm-" My voice broke and I sucked in my lips and shut my eyes, keeping the ferocious emotions at bay. My face burned. The ache in my chest reduced me to a little girl who just scraped her knee, but the pain was real, and it hurt.

"I'm sorry," I sobbed.

"Hey, hey," Parker spoke, and her voice only weakened my resolve. I wished she was here, so I could have a soft place to land when I crumbled. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I'm sorry," I said again, unable to stop myself from crying my eyes out. My tears dribbled down my cheeks, making my face sticky and hot. "This must sound so ugly."

"Now, you stop that," Parker's voice lowered. "There's no way you could ever be ugly, Lizzie. You let it out. If you need to cry, cry it out."

I chuckled a little. "I thought you hated it when I whine."

"Did I say that? No way, whoever said that was an asshole."

I laughed again, but the tears didn't stop. I sniffled and pulled one of my pillows to my chest. Backing against my headboard, I tried not to speak too loudly, so my mother wouldn't hear me. I said and my own misery threatened to plunge me into an ocean of my own making. "My mom flipped on me about my hair. I mean, I knew she would but..."

I expected Parker to interrupt me with some snide remark, but she didn't.

I went on, "But they're mad I didn't get permission, as if they would even give me permission if I did ask. Who are they kidding? I don't have to ask to know they'd say no..."

It hit me that no matter how long I have wanted to cut my hair, I really have never asked them if I could cut it. I shook my head. Again, it wouldn't have even mattered. They would've said no. If I told my mom that I wanted to stay in Orchestra, she'd still tell me to quit.

"And they act like I'm a total monster now, like I've ruined my looks. If they can't even handle a hair change how are they going to handle..." The words caught in my throat. I really didn't want to imagine telling them I only liked girls.

"Don't go down that path," Parker warned me.

"I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, Lizzie. They probably have no idea what cutting your hair meant to you, but I do, and you should still feel proud of yourself..."

I swiped at my tears.

"You're beautiful by the way, that's not something you have to worry about," Parker said and I was so happy she wasn't here with me, so she couldn't see my dumb cheeseball smile. The last of my tears trickled down to the bottom of my chin. I let out an airy laugh, looking up at the ceiling wondering how to even respond.

I didn't get told that often.

Other than Camille, never at all.

"I don't want to talk about me anymore," I said and crawled underneath my blankets. I kicked my shoes off, letting them tumble to the floor. Snuggling inside my nest of comforters, pillows and plushies, I asked Parker, "Tell me what you're doing. Are you working on costumes?"

Parker didn't speak at first. She could be debating if we really did need to pin this conversation for later versus her inherit need to gush about her projects. "Well..." she said, and I lost myself in her voice. I closed my eyes as if I was floating in the pool on my back and was slowly drifting to the bottom, like one of those sensory deficient chambers.

One day I was going to know exactly what to say.

My words were going to come out poignant and clear and whoever was listening was going to listen in awe. It would be such an amazing speech that this person would be forced to agree with me. That future Lizzie was going to be much cooler than this one. More honest than this one. Braver. I couldn't wait to meet her.  

Author's Note

Aw, poor girl. I'm sorry I'm mean to Lizzie, but it's all in the name of character development! Haha. I know I always say this, but I'm excited for Day 7 and 8. Something cool gets revealed!!! 

Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think! What did you think about Lizzie's parent's reaction? Are you surprised Parker answered the phone? What do you think Lizzie needs to learn from this experience? 

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