Little Miss Chapter 1: There I Was

by Jaimy/*G!nGerBrE@D* in my clothes

There I was, sitting there, in the land of five years ago. I was home alone. A six year-old, home alone. And most six year-olds don't even get to have three scoops of ice cream after dinner.

I wasn't exactly home alone. Right outside were my parents. What were they doing? They weren't watching over me. They weren't paying their taxes either. No, they were fighting. Instead of watching the poor six year-old. Beautiful.

I had no idea that they were fighting. Luckily, my fourteen year-old sister (who was eight at the time), Desarae, was there to see and hear it all.

Mom wanted to go the mall with Desarae. As usual. Then Dad started complaining that she always went to the mall with Dez (Desarae) and he wanted to come. But Mom said it was "just for the two of them."

"Then I'll go to Pier 39 with Izabeth," Dad replied.

Izabeth would be me.

"MOM-MY!!!!" Dez cried. "I wanna go to Pier 39! I don't even like Limited Too!!!"

"Who's gonna watch Rufus and Danny?" Mom reasoned.

Rufus is our pet dog. He's a black lab more playful than a dolphin. Danny is my little brother. He was a year old then. Now he's almost six.

"We'll ask one of our neighbors to watch them," Dad said.

When Dez told me this, she said she couldn't remember everything they said. But she was pretty sure the fight started when Mom said she hated our neighbors. And I'm pretty sure I never got to go to Pier 39.

I live in an apartment in San Fransisco, California. I have to share a room with Dez, Danny gets his own room, and Mom and Dad shared a room.

That was before what I call, "The Incident."

There we were, me, Danny, and Dez, in the land of last year. Dad was packing up, Mom was yelling at him, and us kids were spying on them. Dad was moving out. Darn.

We couldn't really hear them, except for Mom. You could hear her yelling, "HURRY UP I WANT YOU OUT OF MY HOUSE FAST NOW NOW NOW" from a mile away. Dad was silent, packing up so slow a snail could travel across the Golden Gate Bridge before he could finish. Just to torture Mom.

"You can't rush masterpieces," I heard Dad joke. When I giggled I almost blew our cover.

When Dad finished packing, we all rushed to Danny's room so we wouldn't get busted. We looked through the window a minute later and saw him get in the car and drive away out of sight.

We all let out a heavy sigh. Dad was driving all the way to Millbrae, this small city thing. Well, Millbrae was only about twenty miles away. It turns out we were going to visit him every other weekend. Which meant Friday after school to Sunday evening. And Dad got to keep Rufus.

Soon, when I was back in my room, I heard tires sqeal in the distance. Dad!

I told Mom I was going to hang out in the lobby with my friend Mandy. She said OK to my lie. I burst out the door and ran all the way to the other and of the hall to the elevator. The doors were closing. I thought I could make it, but I was too late. Now I had to wait. Finally, after the longest minute of my life, the doors opened and I dashed in. I was in there alone, so I was hopefully going straight down to the lobby. No one else got on, so I did.

I ran out the door and heard police sirens. Dad! I walked a block and saw a terrible sight: Dad's car collided with three other cars!

So there I was, standing there, gaping, not sure what to do. Rush to the cops, or rush to Mom, Danny, And Dez? Either one would be a lot better than standing there.

I ended up rushing to the cops. "Dad! Dad! Dad!" I screamed.

"What are you doing here, Little Miss?" one cop asked me.

"Trying to see if my dad's alive," I snapped.

"You mean the one with the black BMW?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, yes, he still is. So is the dog. But I can't say they're 100% healthy..."

I was going frantic. This cop was getting on my nerves. No one EVER calls me Little Miss. And, he seemed underqualified for the job. I thought cops were supposed to be suave, sophisticated, and maybe even a little burly. Like Dad.

The rest I can't remember all too well. I think I ran over to the car and tripped. I do remember falling head-first and bursting into tears. I remember looking up to see that cop. And I barely remember seeing Mom scooping me of the floor and thanking the officer. And asking Dad if he was all right, which I thought was pretty dumb because he had bits of glass all over his face. He looked like someone from a horror movie.

"You better not do that again, Little Miss," Mom said, dropping me to my feet.

How was that nick name catching on so fast? Little Miss is a really stupid nick name. It sounds like a name for a kindergartener. And I was going to fifth grade that summer. Maybe they should start calling Danny Little Miss.

Dad was in the hospital for the whole month. I never got to go to Pier 39 that entire summer. Dad went to Millbrae shortly after he was fully recovered. And guess what? He started calling me Little Miss.

So if I never was standing there or sitting there or anything, maybe I would never be Little Miss.