a narrative in two parts - forward dated to tomorrow Date: 9/6, during lunch (forward dated); 9/6, during dinner (forward dated) Characters: Lizzie, Coach Bieste (NPC), and Principal Figgins (NPC); Lizzie and her father (NPC) Location: Figgins' office; Lizzie's house Warnings: None Summary: After Quinn snitches, it turns out Lizzie's the one who needs the stitches.
Act I
"Hello, Miss Clabots. I don't suppose you know why you're here?"
Principal Figgins was leaning authoritatively over his desk as Lizzie walked into the office, clutching her sack lunch in one hand and the slip she'd been handed during her previous class in the other. Lizzie had never in her life been called to a school office. Oh, it had been threatened before numerous times, for passing notes in elementary and middle school and for texting in high school - but it had never actually happened. And this had been a formal summons, with the secretary poking her head into the class and asking for Lizzie by name. Coach Bieste was there too, Lizzie noticed, sitting in the chair further from the door - and wearing a distinctly displeased expression.
Lizzie gathered that this was not going to be a good experience.
"No," she managed to squeak, sitting down in the free chair and tugging nervously at the pristine ribbon in her ponytail. She stared at the brown paper bag her father had packed for her that morning and her stomach turned. Food was the last thing she wanted right now.
As Lizzie set the paper bag gingerly at her feet, Coach Bieste wordlessly passed two stapled documents over to her. "Do you recognize these?" Figgins asked. Lizzie nodded as she looked at the top one; it was the essay she'd handed in that morning for Sports Nutrition - and she could feel her stomach pick up the pace as she turned to the second, already knowing what it contained.
Who would do this to her? She'd thought she was talking among friends when she'd tipped Puck off about paper-buying services; she'd thought she was getting in good with the right people. Clearly, all she'd succeeded in doing was pissing off some nerd. The identical texts began to swim before her as tears pooled in her eyes. Who would do this?
"Miss Clabots, I'm sure you realize that we at McKinley classify this as academic misconduct." The principal's voice was stern, as Lizzie had never heard it before, and she didn't dare look up.
"Yes." Her voice was even smaller, if that was possible, as she tried to control it and keep from outright crying right there in the office.
"Then I'm sure you know, from your extensive knowledge of our student handbook, the standard procedure for such a transgression." A pause, during which Lizzie didn't dare look up, and then, "I will be placing a phone call to your father directly following this meeting, and you will be on academic probation for the rest of the semester. Your work will be carefully scanned for citations and originality, and any papers will be run through plagiarism detection software. And it should go without saying that you have earned a zero on the assignment you turned in this morning."
"Yes," Lizzie mumbled again, making as if to stand up. It wasn't great, and it meant she'd actually have to do her homework, but if that was all -
"That's not all." This time, it wasn't Figgins who spoke, but Bieste - and her tone was one of disappointment. It was far worse than Figgins' laying-down-the-law speech, and now the tears really did begin to run down Lizzie's face. She dabbed carefully so as not to cause raccoon eyes or smeared blush.
"One week's suspension from Cheerios. You're lucky it's not more." No no no no no no no shit no
"And Clabots?" Lizzie looked up then, hopeful for some, any good news. "Coach Sylvester wishes to see you after school."
She'd long ago abandoned the idea of trying to keep her makeup intact. Her face was puffed up and mascara was streaked down her cheek, and as her father talked, Lizzie pushed the congealed noodles around her plate.
During her suspension from the Cheerios, Coach Sylvester still expected her to make herself useful to the team. Which was why after school, Lizzie had been obligated to disinfect all the tumbling mats and repaint the lockers that belonged to the Cheerios - it certainly wouldn't do to have the red and white of their lockers be anything but completely vibrant. By the time she got home, it was eight o'clock. Her father was waiting at the kitchen table, a carton of leftover Chinese cold and slimy by Lizzie's empty plate. Like she even wanted it.
"Daddy, I'm sorry." She didn't know how many times she'd said it, how many more she'd have to say it as he lectured about personal responsibility and hadn't he raised her to do the right thing and she was going to do her homework right before his very own eyes for the rest of the semester and this was going to kill any chances of her getting into a college as good as the one Andrea was at and how was he ever going to look Figgins in the eye again when he came in to order a coconut cream pie. But the worst he saved for last.
"I don't know what it is that's happened to you since we moved here, but I don't like it one bit. Maybe I should send you back to Columbus, have you live with your mother and Jordan."
Even Sue Sylvester couldn't come up with a punishment that sadistic.