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Downfall: A Collapse Series Prequel

By Angela D. Shelton

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Mom didn’t understand. This wasn’t 1995 anymore. Thirteen-year-old Lizzy Tilbrook stuffed the black T-shirt with a sparkly red I Dare You emblazoned across the chest into her book bag. She’d change back into it at school, where Mom couldn’t monitor her every move. As she pulled on a different top, one Mom would say was more appropriate, her frustration escalated. Why did Mom want to control her every move?

She wasn’t a little kid anymore.

A quick peek in the dresser mirror revealed her freckled face. Great. Her light-blond curls were out of control. Static cling was her reward for pulling the shirt on in haste. She tamped her hair back into place, careful not to excite the tresses into a frizz. When your hair was naturally curly, it could go from cute to crazy faster than a rapper could spit out a phrase. Good enough.

A pair of leggings rested on the bag’s bottom. No way would she have gotten past her parents with the shirt/legging combo she’d planned to wear, but why did Mom have to be so militant about the shirt? What was the problem with a stupid saying on it, anyway? It was funny.

How many times had she and Mom argued over the school dress code? These days, it seemed like an ongoing war in which this was just the latest skirmish. A battle she’d lost, unfortunately. Someday, her parents’ control wouldn’t keep her from expressing herself. She couldn’t wait.

She had to hurry to avoid being late. Walking into class after the first bell had rung was the worst. Mr. Evans always made a huge deal out of anyone being tardy, and she needed time to change before she went to his classroom.
She darted through the house, back to the kitchen where Mom packed her laptop back into her own rolling bag. “Gotta go, Mom. We’re going to be late. I told you I didn’t have time to change.”

Mom tilted her head to the side, mouth twisted into her “whatever” look. “If you’d dressed appropriately in the first place, you wouldn’t have to change your clothes. Don’t blame me for your errors in judgment.”

Errors in judgment. Who said that these days? And her mother had no fashion sense whatsoever. Most of the girls wore sexy leggings and clingy tops at school. If everyone was wearing them, why couldn’t she? Mom was going to ruin her chances of becoming homecoming queen her senior year. Yes, it was a long way off, but you had to plan years in advance when you had goals. Being in the right crowd, running with the popular girls, and having the eyes of the trendy boys was critical to the mission.

“Let’s just go.” She moaned those last words, which caused Mom’s eyes to narrow even further.

“Humph.” Mom popped her lunch bag onto the rolling bag. She paused and looked at Lizzy’s book bag, then reached over and patted it on the bottom. “Are you carrying clothes in your bag?”

Shoot. How did she know? Think fast. “I have phys ed at school. Remember?”

It wasn’t a lie—precisely. She had gym class. Just not today. And she’d leave it up to Mom to connect the dots that she hadn’t said the clothes were workout wear.

Mom crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s see those shorts then.”

Busted.

Lizzy’s shoulders drooped as she yanked the zipper open and dragged out the contraband shirt.

Mom’s right eyebrow lifted toward her hairline. “What else?”

No! Not the pants too.

Lizzy reached back into her pack, wiggled out the tiny sparkling leggings with ruching on the rear, then placed the clothes in her mother’s outstretched hand.

As her mother inspected the clothing, Lizzy reclosed her bag with a defeated huff. “Happy now?”

The fiery look on her mother’s face revealed anything but joy. “Where did you even get pants like this? What would your father say if he saw you wearing it? I can’t even imagine.”

No, she probably couldn’t. How could any adult understand the current fashion trends? Look at her, dressed like a corporate automaton in her gray suit jacket and slacks. Lizzy didn’t want to end up like that. The clipped-on badge Mom wore declared she was owned by a corporation. The company controlled what she wore, what hours she worked, and even what color her hair could be. Lizzy would never let that happen to her.

She glared right back. “You ruin everything. Now I’m going to look like a dork at school all day. All the girls are wearing clothes like that. I’m going to be the only one who isn’t. Do you know how that will make me feel?”

Mom headed toward the door, indicating the conversation would only continue if Lizzy followed. “I’m going to say to you the same thing my mom always said to me. If your friends all jumped off a bridge, would you follow?”

Flames washed over her like a volcano had just erupted inside her head. “Who even says that anymore, Mom? You are so ancient.”

They climbed into Mom’s Lexus LC 500, her birthday gift to herself this past spring. Rather than pull up in the pretentious thing, Lizzy preferred Mom drop her off a block away from the school, so her friends didn’t see her in it.

“Well, you can contemplate all the terrible ways of your dear old mother every night this week because you’re grounded, young lady.”

Those flames now burned hot in her stomach. “Grounded? For wanting to express my personal style instead of becoming a clone?”

Mom huffed. “Keep it up. We can make it two. Then how many of your friends’ invitations will you have to turn down?”

Mom pushed the button to start the car and backed out of the garage.

That was it. Lizzy was beat. Time to play dead and let her mom win. But she didn’t have to be happy about it. Her silent protest would last all week so Mom and Dad both knew they could control her movements, but not her mind. They could never turn her into an android, doing everyone’s bidding. They couldn’t buy her with all the stuff they worked long hours to accumulate. Some things in life money couldn’t provide.

She dug into the front pocket of her book bag for her face mask and covered her mouth and nose. The plain black covering protecting her from the virus was as dark as she felt inside. Little did Mom know. She had another mask hidden in a small zipper pocket. That one would be on her face as soon as she stepped inside the school walls. It sparkled with the rhinestone words Wild Child.

She was so tired of the virus and the constant changes and interruptions. Masks—no masks. In-school—remote learning. After-school activities on—canceled. She wanted her life back the way it was supposed to be. Football games with bleachers filled to maximum capacity, parties after the games, and no face-smothering coverings.

She knew several people who’d contracted the virus, and only a few had gotten sick worse than the normal flu bug. Why did everyone make a big deal out of it?

The only bonus she could come up with was the ability to hide behind the mask. Her parents were always harping on her about her “attitude.” They loved to interpret her facial reactions as “disrespectful.” Of course, she’d need a ski mask to hide her eye expressions, but she’d gotten the eye rolls under control. The covering allowed her to smirk at will, though—her saving grace.

Mom parked at the pharmacy, their normal drop-off point, and Lizzy opened her car door to exit.

“Have a good day.” Mom practically sang the words as if the morning had been this bright, cheery experience, instead of the latest battle in their back-and-forth conflict.

But Lizzy didn’t dare ignore the goodbye. “Yeah, right. Bye.”

Closing the car door behind her was like closing a jail door with a work privilege release. She could go to school all day, but she’d be right back in prison soon after. What a life. Why couldn’t she have chill parents like her best friend, Ava Russo? They never seemed to care what she wore to school—if only.

Lizzy slogged through the trail of students headed for their classrooms. In her homeroom, Ava waited in their usual spot, at the far rear corner of desks. Being back with her felt good.

“Did you see what Rachael Marshall wore this morning?” Ava loved to gossip.

“Knowing her, probably some knockoff Michael Kors.” Lizzy pulled out a compact and applied some eyeliner she kept hidden in her backpack.

“If only.” Ava giggled. “She’s wearing sweatpants. To school. Can you believe it? And it’s not like they’re PINK or American Eagle.”

Ava’s Italian heritage gave her golden skin as well as dark hair that would be luxurious if she let it grow out. But Lizzy always insisted it looked cuter short. No need to add more competition for the guys’ attention. And Ava would do anything Lizzy asked to hang with the popular kids.

After homeroom, they stopped at their lockers. Lizzy looked up and down the hallway, making sure there wasn’t someone she needed to greet or connect with. Keeping up the pretense of being the friendliest girl in school was important. After all, you don’t win the class president race unless every popular student in your grade thinks you’re their BFF.

As she closed her locker and twisted the knob to relock it, Michael Flintwood strolled toward them. She cocked her hip to one side.

“Morning, Michael.” The mask hid her plastered-on smile, but surely, it reached her eyes. Guys always wanted to be paid attention to. “You ready for your party this weekend?”

He paused. One thumb hooked in the pocket of his blue jeans while the other held the strap of the book bag slung over one shoulder.

Michael’s older brother, Sean, was the captain of the high school football team. Whenever their parents were out of town, Sean threw an enormous party. He allowed Michael to invite some of his friends. Getting an invitation was a badge of honor. Even though Mom grounded her, Lizzy needed him to want her there.

“Yeah. Sean said I can only invite a dozen people, though. Said the beer costs too much.” A shy-guy grin crept over his face, and he shuffled his sneakers. “I’d love it if you’d be one of my twelve.”

Perfect. Now, even if she couldn’t go, everyone would know she’d been on the invite list.

Bragging rights was all that mattered.

She changed the smile into a pout. It wasn’t nearly as effective with the mask on, but even Michael had to get the gist.

“Sure wish I could. Got busted this morning, so I’m grounded for a week.” She knew to not let the pout stay too long. No guy wanted to be with a Debbie Downer. The smile returned to her face, and she hoped her eyes were sparkling. “I can’t wait for the next one, though. Rain check?”

The disappointment crumpling his masked face was priceless. “Yeah, next time. Well, gotta get to class. Later.”

The last thing Lizzy needed was a boyfriend, but if she ever wanted one, Michael would be an obvious target. But a guy would just slow her down, and she had goals to reach. As he sauntered off, Ava watched him for the length of the hallway.

She’d had a crush on him since kindergarten. Silly.

“Earth to Ava.” Lizzy jabbed her friend in the ribs. “We need to get those posters up in the hallways after school today. Did you get them done last night?”

Ava gazed back at Lizzy, confusion crinkling her eyes. Then those eyes widened. “Oh! Of course, you know I wouldn’t forget. Red and black, just like you asked for. They’re in my locker. Everyone will want to vote for you.”

Her supposed best friend was great at the artsy stuff. They’d look fantastic. Ava had more talent in her pinkie than Lizzy had in her entire body. But that was all right by her. She didn’t need to be artistic. She just needed to know where to get the resource.

She intended to be a lawyer by twenty-four. She’d fight for the rights of those who had no voice. Anticorporate, antiestablishment, and antidrudgery. Those would be her mottos.

She might be the only big-time lawyer in Atlanta with a streak of purple hair, but people would respect her because she’d beat the big-city firms every time with her extraordinary talent.

But it all started with winning the class president race. Mom always said you had to plan for the long haul and no one was going to help you like you can help yourself.

Mom came from a poor background. She loved to tell stories about growing up as a family of farmers who barely kept food on their table. She’d had to work a full-time job and take night classes to put herself through school. Even then, the huge student loan debt dogged her for years. Now, she was one of the top accountants at her CPA firm. A partner.

Mom pulled in the big bucks and told Lizzy she could go to any college she wanted to, though Mom pushed for the University of Georgia, her alma mater. But Lizzy had her eyes on Yale. Just the school’s name would get her through doors, and her parents could afford it. So why not have the best?

“I wasn’t kidding about being grounded. We need to get the signs up right after the last bell.”

Ava shifted her book bag to the opposite shoulder. “I can finish it for you if you need to get home.”

Of course she would. Ava always did whatever Lizzy needed. One step ahead of the need, usually. That’s what best friends were for. At least Lizzy let Ava believe she was her best friend. She didn’t really need anyone, not even a BFF.

Friendship had a time and place, and Ava filled that role. But Lizzy was a solid rock of determination. No one would stand in the way of her success.

This semester, she’d win class president. Then she’d be a shoo-in for the role every year until she was eligible for the student body president. That would look fantastic on her Yale application.

Success wasn’t so hard when you had a plan. And hers was solid.
 

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