Charlie's Short Story: The Ride Home

The ride home was awful for Charlie. Not only because she had to sit in a police car for fifteen minutes, but because she had to endure her sniffling mother and the almost feeling of betrayal. Why would her father prefer his job in Portland over her and her mother?

Even then, why didn’t they ask for her opinion on the matter?

Once they arrived and said their casually platonic gratitudes and goodbyes, Charlie approached the large, and in her personal opinion, quite boring apartment complex that was her home. The hunk of a building bordered the Kenduskeag river, where Charlie and Betty prefered to swim on summer days, second to the Quarry. Of course, they had promised their mother that they wouldn’t jump off the cliff, and instead climb down, yet the giggly ten year olds did not know anything better except to lie. Charlie knew very well her mother would prohibit even stepping

Okay then. Jkjkjk its gr8)

She had made her way to her bedroom, for both of them, knew the other wished to be alone. She shut her white bedroom door, and as soon as she heard them somewhat satisfying of the click of the lock, she sat at the foot of her bed. The Fluffy floral duvet cover gathered around her when she threw her back onto the bed, yet let her legs hang down and her toes touch the carpet. Staring at the ceiling, she noticed the slightest details. The pale blue paint peeled in some areas, revealing the original pink. Charlie smiled to herself.

It was a reminder of her and Betty’s “pink phase”. As eight year old girls in 1984, they had simple adored anything of the rose color, enough to make their parents laugh and shake their heads. Pink walls, pink blankets, pink dresses, pink backpacks, pink stuffed bears, pink plastic jewelry, and plastic blonde Barbie dolls with pink princess gowns. It was a blur of giggles, teddy bear tea parties, and faux glamorous accents at an attempt to impersonate Audrey