People who are Important to Me: Lizzy Jones aka Penny Stealer

People who know me well might consider me conniving. My mother has noted on more than one occasion, typically occasions when I need a hearty slice of Humble Pie, that despite being more honest than the average kid my age, I am also incredibly manipulative. Which I totally attribute to Lizzy, my childhood best friend who also read my blog and told me to turn down the bitch. But since she was wearing a beanie that looks like a panda and the paws are little ear flaps, it was kind of hard to take her criticism seriously. But anyway, the narrative of how we met is probably the best way to showcase this particular nutcase.

Picture an Albertsons, circa 1996ish. I don't know, it's before my brother was in preschool but after he was old enough to have play dates. Don't ask me why my childhood time line is in terms of significant events for my brother. Anyway, the aisles and aisles of decaying linoleum flooring and bug stained phosphorescent lights are creating a yellow backdrop against checkout lines, where I am impatiently waiting for my mother to finish paying for the groceries that are disproportionately high in vegetables and low in fruit snacks. Maybe the trip didn't take as long as she expected, or maybe I am well behaved that day, not slipping unwanted Jello boxes into the cart (an offense punishable by time-out aka death), but my mom decides that I can indeed have the ever coveted penny to take a ride in truck at the front of the store.

Now, there are a couple unique things about this grocery store, this truck ride, and this penny. This Albertsons is not where we typically shop. There is a higher quality King Soopers closer to our house, right around the corner, in fact. I don't know why we were in that particular Albertsons. And as a little girl I abhorred the color pink and loved all things metallic and useful, specifically if that use was transportation. My mom thinks I'm her train engineer grandfather reincarnated, I think it's just because I determined from an early age to differentiate myself from my super girly cousin of the same age. But this grocery store, not the one we typically shop at, has a truck. A truck! Not a stupid pony like the King Soopers we always went to, a truck with wheels and seats, and it even made noise! I would say that the mystical penny was the result of wheedling and bargaining, but Lizzy wasn't in the picture to teach me that trick yet, and my mother has the endurance of an ox when it comes to whining kids, so I know that wasn't it. But that penny, that magical penny! That was the special part that my toddler sized brain could grasp. I never got the penny. Never. Today, though, today I get the penny.

I run to the front of the store, leaving my grocery laden mother behind. But what ho? There's another kid crawling into the truck, about to insert her own penny. I will just have to wait.

This girl, the lucky driver of the penny ride truck, has a thick shock of brown hair similar to carded wool bunching out from behind a purple headband that matches her bright purple t-shirt with a rearing white unicorn emblazoned on the front. About to insert her penny and begin the magical ride of joy and wonder, she notices me, small, unimposing, and most of all trusting. The wheels in her little mind spin rapidly, and she does a quick math equation in her head.

1 penny = 1 ride = Amusing

2 pennies = 2 rides =  BEST DAY EVER

The decision is made quickly. "Hey."

I stand blithely apart, moony and dreaming of my truck ride.

"Hey," she repeats, louder now.

I jump. "Me?"

She nods. This will be easy, she thinks. This kid is an idiot. "I'll share my ride if you share yours."

I blink, doing the exact same math she did earlier, and my face lights up. THIS IS THE BEST IDEA EVER. I eagerly accept.

This should be the part where I tell you the truck ride is amazing and exceeds all my expectations and we drive off into the sunset to form a lifelong friendship. But actually...

I remember it sucking.

Lizzy, this conniving genius, this manipulator, this penny stealer, makes me sit shotgun for both rides. Her penny, her ride, sure, that's fair. But when I ask to sit in the driver side for my turn, she points out that we're both already seated and to get up and out to switch would be silly. Not particularly confrontational, I quietly nod and start the second ride. Fine. But can I hold her stuffed dog that's sitting in the flatbed (that's how awesome this truck was, it had a flatbed)? No, I touch that dog and she'll kill me. Not even exaggerating this one. She tells me with such finality that I am never to touch the stuffed dog that I am convinced touching her dog can only end in death, at the ripe age of 4.

The second ride ends, and Lizzy happily jumps down, proud of the day's conquest, clutching her toy dog. I follow with less energy and grace, contenting myself with the fact that I got two rides where I only expected one, even if I had to sit shotgun for both rides. And I never have to see this girl again.

That is, until the ride home when my mom tells me that Lizzy has a brother the same age as my new younger sibling and that she exchanged numbers with Lizzy's mom for play dates. I'm sure that when the adult Lizzy reads this, she'll be pleased to know my first impression of one of my best childhood friends left a knot in my stomach.