Short Story / Charlotta Neely

As Lizzie walked toward the crowded bus stop, she pulled up her hood, grimacing, while the slanting rain progressively drenched her. With determination, she forced her way through the group of rowdy teenagers, desperately trying to shield the heavy weight of school books crammed under her arm. Just when she had reached the comfort of the shelter, Lizzie glanced round and spotted the bus approaching. It pulled over and she watched, with frustration, the teenagers in front sauntering onto the bus, steadily filling the limited seats available.
Lizzie remained at the back of the queue alongside one other person around her own age, wearing a suit. He was carrying a large case that, judging by the shape, appeared to contain a musical instrument. Through the curtain of soaking wet hair over her face, she irritably glared at him as he shuffled forward impatiently, undoubtedly trying to advance ahead.
When they finally reached the doors of the bus, still standing side by side, the driver looked at them and raised his eyebrows.
"Only room for one more, I'm afraid."
With no sign of hesitation, the suited boy strode forward and, as he did so, jostled Lizzie to one side. Losing balance, she watched with horror as her school books fell to the ground, landing in a puddle. Trapped in a moment of shock, she watched the boy pay and disappear up the stairs.
"Sorry, love," the driver apologised, while Lizzie acknowledged his sympathetic expression. The bus drove off and Lizzie gathered up her books, uselessly muttering insults. Deciding not to bother waiting for another bus, she stood up and made her way to the pedestrian crossing, helplessly making her way home.

Lizzie returned home on the verge of tears, horrified at the state of her work as she laid it out in the kitchen to dry, desperately praying that it wasn't completely destroyed. In the midst of this process, her mother entered the room, wearing a far-too-revealing top and a smug expression, which Lizzie was very familiar with.
"Hi, Darling. Good day?" Oblivious to Lizzie's complaints, she admired her freshly painted nails, nodding and agreeing absent-mindedly. With a cunning smile, she spun around and said, "I've just had a chat with a lovely woman who's recently moved into the neighbourhood. She's got a son, you know? Handsome chap, I've heard. He's around your age, too."
Predicting what was coming, Lizzie rolled her eyes and replied, "Mum, I'm happy being single and I'm not interested in having a serious relationship - especially not with anyone that you pick out. So please stop trying to set me up with people."
Her mother stopped admiring her reflection in the window and declared defensively, "All the boys that I've ever introduced you to are charming and intelligent. They always show interest, especially once they've seen what a wonderful family you have." She smiled and added, "It helps that we're both so good looking as well. Anyway, this woman and her son are coming over here for a tea and cakes in about an hour."
Lizzie faced her mother for the first time since arriving home; she began to protest but almost immediately gave up, knowing it was pointless. Instead, she watched with cold, squinting eyes as her mother wandered out of the room, nonchalantly re-applying her lipstick.

The doorbell rang just as Lizzie had finished getting dressed and making herself appear more presentable. She stood at the top of the stairs and watched as her mother, with a well-rehearsed smile, opened the door to her guests, effortlessly offering convincing compliments to the woman and her son. Lizzie naturally began to descend the staircase, by now intimately accustomed to the routine of such events.
As usual, about halfway down the staircase, the shoes of the guests came into sight and, judgmental though it may be, she used them as an indication of their owners' personalities and status. However, as she continued her descent, it wasn't the smart, leather shoes that revealed the boy's character most to Lizzie; it was the large, unusually-shaped, black case that he was holding in his hand.