Boxes
upon boxes sat in the attic common room.
Half were marked as being for Liz’s dorm room, the other half marked as
being for Jackie’s. They had spent the
last three days putting everything they would need for college into these
boxes. Tomorrow, they would be moving
into their respective dorm rooms.
Liz sat on her brand new blue
bedspread, reading through her old Rose notebook, tormenting herself with these
rules for the last time. Finally, she
reached a certain highlighted page. She
had never asked Sandra about this passage she had found.
“I returned, and saw under the sun,”
Liz read out loud, “that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the
strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding,
nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.” She stared at the words for a while longer
before a single phrase suddenly popped out at her—nor the battle to the
strong. She wasn’t strong, not
physically, and for a while she hadn’t been mentally or emotionally strong
either. She hadn’t wanted the battle
that had come to her. But the battle had
come anyway and she had somehow won it. She
ripped the page out of the notebook and tucked it into the suitcase that lay on
the floor beside her bed. Liz leaned
back again, her back hitting the wall.
Without warning, the cross that Sandra had mounted above her bed fell
down the wall and hit her hard on the head.
It was at least the fourth time it had fallen down since she had moved
home. She hadn’t taken it down, because
she still thought it was a nice-looking cross, but this was the final
straw.
“I give up!” she yelled.