Friday, May 16, 2008

Webby Fiction

There's a girl who lives up the block. She wears a lot of purple. Purple socks or a dress or a t-shirt or a ribbon in her hair. She passes by our house on her way to the bus stop. She's in second grade. When she climbs on the school bus she sits in her assigned seat and stares out the window singing purple rain.

I made that part up. She's far to young to know Prince, or even the "artist formerly known as." But she stares out the window and her lips move in song.

When she gets to school she walks in a line and writes on the lines and colors inside of the lines because she knows how to follow those rules. She is quiet and neat and never silly. Her teachers pass by, smiling in her direction. Because she does what she's told.

She's a good girl. And a good girl she'll stay. She won't drive without her license or smoke behind the backstop. She won't date a troubled boy or ever cut a class. She'll be polite to all her family and never say a swear. She'll apply to community college and excel in all her classes. She'll add up all those numbers and remember all the dates. She'll hand her papers in on time and a typo won't be found.

She'll do what she does because that is who she is.

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