U is for unconventional uses for umbrellas.
As a weapon during games of Batman where you get stuck being The Penguin.
"Why do I have to be the bad guy?" A tiny Lilly whined to the boys around her. They all got to take turns being Batman whenever they played. Except for her. She was stuck being the guy who quacked like a duck and thought he could hypnotize people. What kind of crap was that? Lilly may have been six, but she was pretty sure this was right up there on the scale of 'not fair' that usually followed her around when she played with the boys. "Why can't I be Batman?" She pouted now, knowing that was usually the one trick she had as the sole girl who would climb over fences and get down in the mud with the boys on her block.
"Cause I'm Batman first. Duh." It was the floppy brown haired boy from next door. And he grinned widely, turning back to the other three boys to plan out his greatest world saving fete yet.
She couldn't be mad at him. As her best friend, certain exceptions were allowed for Oliver. Besides, Batman was his favorite. Lilly glared as the other three boys were designated Commissioner Gordon, Robin, and Superman. "Superman?" She echoed.
"Yeah. Didn't you see the comic this week? He totally came and saved the day," one of the other boys informed her. "He's way cooler than Batman."
"He is not!" The floppy haired boy took offense to that big time.
Lilly rolled her eyes, and settled her weight on the end of the umbrella that she clutched in one hand. Boys and their superheroes. Once Oliver started defending Batman, they could be there all day. They might not even do anything. She just wanted to go swimming. But nobody's parents would take them to the beach. So she was stuck as The Penguin. Again. And Oliver and Chad were yelling. Again.
"He is too!" The other boy shot back, furiously chomping down on the bubble gum in his mouth. "Batman can't even fly!"
"Are we gonna play or not?" Lilly cut in while the other boys looked on.
"In a minute."
A few more minutes of insults followed.
"You only think Batman's cool because he's rich." "Well, you only like Superman because he's an alien!" "Is not!" "Is too!"
But then, the boy chomping on his gum did the unthinkable. "Batman's so dumb," he drawled, "he might as well be a girl."
Lilly's eyes narrowed into slits and she stood up as straight as her tiny frame allowed. "Girls. Aren't. Dumb."
Even the other two boys who had only been watching the exchange, waiting for it to pass until it was time to play, took a few steps back from the floppy haired Batman fan, the Chomper, and the girl with umbrella. The Chomper simply laughed. But Lilly's umbrella belonged to her father and it had a very sharp point on the end. She made sure to put it to good use.
Needless to say, Chad wasn't much up for playing Batman with Lilly any time in the near future. Which was just fine with her.
As a decoration when your great aunt sends you a pretty one from her trip to China. Only later are you corrected and told it's actually a parasol.
It was just too pretty to use was the problem. It was all purple with little yellow and white flowers on it and lacy edges and almost see through material. The fabric was so soft in fact, that when Lilly opened the package addressed to her that summer after her first year of junior high, she thought the umbrella would simply disintegrate between her fingers. It was far too delicate to be used in a summer thunder storm.
She pushed the piece along the handle until all of the ribbing splayed open, and she twirled it around in the light of her bedroom, just watching the colors dance along the ceiling. It really was too pretty. And as a girl who had played with the boys, who wasn't afraid to get a little muddy, or for that matter, a little bloody, she hadn't owned too many things that qualified as very pretty. Not ones she wanted to keep anyway. Or, at the very least, not things that didn't qualify as foot wear, and not things that didn't end up broken.
So she propped it up on a shelf, keeping it open and clearly visible in the light of the sun that streamed through her window in the middle of the day so that anyone who came in would be able to admire it. She was always ready to offer up an explanation that her great aunt had sent it to her specially from China, that it must have cost a fortune, and that it was one of her favorite things.
And she was very careful to only use the cheap black umbrella that she had bought from a stand in front of the grocery store every time it rained. But one day, on her way to the bus stop for the summer school program that she had been tricked into attending, her black umbrella shuddered in the wind and the ribbing splintered away from the middle of the shaft, letting the strands of the fabric shred as the storm clouds rolled in. The object was yanked from her hands in a particularly violent burst of wind, and Lilly watched the cheap umbrella blow away in shock.
The rain may have only been a slight drizzle now, but with the clouds darkening ominously and her hair being whipped around in the gale, Lilly knew she needed more protection, and more style, than an ugly yellow rain coat was going to offer. There really was only one thing left to do, even if it was the very last thing she wanted to do.
Against her better judgment, Lilly raced home to grab the purple umbrella from her room, making it back just before the largest drops of water began to splatter. She stood in the doorway, wasting a few precious moments with her gaze flicking back and forth from the window that was currently being pounded by water, and the pale spot of purple resting comfortably on the top of her shelf. She gave a small sigh, crossed the room, and reached up awkwardly to pull the umbrella down from the shelf.
By that time, she was in danger of missing her bus, so she quit thinking about her choice and ran down the stair, escaping from the house as quickly as possible, the handle of the umbrella clutched firmly in one hand. During her sprint to the bus stop, the rain picked up, and she could hear the steady thrum on the fabric above her head, and by the time she reached her destination, there was a steady stream of water pouring from the center of the fabric to go with that thrum. It was running down her shoulder, effectively drenching one side of her body.
And Joanie Palumbo cackled at the sight of Lilly switching the object to her other hand, trying to even out the waterfall coating her t-shirt.
"Wow, Truscott, you're even dumber than the Popular Twins of the Turnip Brain. Don't you know a parasol isn't going to keep out the rain. Those things are so flimsy, they might as well be made of tissue paper. Useless crap."
Lilly didn't respond. But she spent the first hour of her summer program trying to dry herself off. She didn't want to admit how cool she thought the parasol was, how pretty she found it, how much she liked it. Not when Joanie Palumbo, and a fair amount of the guys at school, referred to it as useless crap. Instead, she decided that pretty and functional didn't go together, and the umbrella, no, make that parasol, went back on the shelf where it could be as pretty as it pleased without ruining her morning.
As a tool to hide your face when dodging the paparazzi with Hannah Montana.
"Ugh. Who are all of these people and why are they all carrying cameras?" Lilly, in her newly created alter ego Lola's get-up, complained as a security guard attempted to escort Lilly and Miley from the back of the latest concert venue.
"Paparazzi. Where do you think all of those pictures of Hannah in the gossip magazines that you like so much come from?" Miley's voice was flat. It had been a long, hard show, and she just wanted to go home and crash. But the presence of cameras and bodies between the three of them, and the car that housed the driver was almost too much.
Lilly linked one of her arms through Miley's, the other was laden with a tote bag full of every possible supply her father thought she might need on her night out with the young popstar. "Come on," she groaned, trying to stay as close to the security guard as possible, dragging Miley along with her.
Someone stepped on her foot. Another elbowed her in the side. And yet another stuck a camera into her line of vision and snapped a pic of Miley as she sneezed. "Great," she muttered so only Lilly could hear her, "now the headlines tomorrow will say something about Hannah having a mutant strain of the flu... or some sort of condition that causes her to have seizures mid photograph."
Lilly could practically hear the eye roll that accompanied the statement, even though she couldn't see her face. Miley was, like Lilly and most of the other teenagers she knew, adept at a good eye roll. She stumbled in her super high heeled boots, almost taking out one of the photographers as she pitched forward, and Miley with her. A bottle of water, some spare change, and a tube of lip gloss clattered to the pavement. Lilly righted herself, but didn't even make an attempt to dive for the items. She would get trampled by the photographers. She wasn't about to risk it. Even if that was her favorite lip gloss rolling away.
Poking out of the top of the bag, in fact, digging into her arm, was an item her dad had shoved in there at the last minute, telling her that there was always a chance of rain.
"Hang on," Lilly called to Miley and the security guard, who was almost being swallowed up by the eager vultures with their flashbulbs going off. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she pulled the long umbrella from her bag, unwrapped the button closure, and hit the switch at the base of the handle that had it springing to life. Bright pink fabric ignited in front of them, the ribs of the umbrella pushing out into the sea of cameras, a couple of them joining Lilly's lip gloss on the ground.
She giggled, pulling Miley in behind the umbrella with her, the two girls ducking their heads as they used the umbrella to push through the crowd.
The headline the next day read, "Hannah Pink With Happiness Out With New Friend." The only good shot the magazine had involved half of Miley's face on the side of the pink. Lilly's was perfectly hidden. She never made it into the magazines.
As a chew toy to lure the dog away from your favorite pair of boots.
She was running late. Very late. So late that when she finally got to the restaurant, her date might have thought she stood him up. But it wasn't her fault.
The photo shoot for Hannah Montana's next album had taken longer than she anticipated. And then there was traffic on the highway. And then the rain. And then she had to shower off all of her Lola makeup and wig tape. And she had called to tell him that she was running late, but she got his voice mail, so she wasn't entirely sure that he believed her. And then it took forever to find clean clothes that weren't simply for a day at the beach. And now... now that she had her perfect outfit for a first date on, she couldn't find her perfect pair of boots to go with it.
Her cell phone pressed to one ear as she tried calling again, Lilly crawled around on the floor of her room to check under her bed. She knew the boots shouldn't be under there. She never kept shoes under her bed. But she looked anyway. All she found was one of those flat plastic storage containers with winter sweaters in it and a baseball bat. Her dad had given her the baseball bat when he moved out. It made her giggle every time she thought about it.
And she got his voicemail. Again.
Sighing, Lilly perused the shoes in her closet for the third time, trying not to notice the fact that her hair was a little tangled from having to stick her head part way under the bed. She mentally inventoried her shoes. Every pair was there except for the one pair of flip-flops on the back porch, her gym sneakers which were in her locker at school, and the pair of heels she had left at Miley's house, and the boots in question. Where were her boots? Her perfect boots.
Foot steps moving rapidly outside her door let her know that her little brother was running for the stair case, something her mother was always yelling about.
"Stop!" She shouted, half heartedly, then turned into the hallway, thinking the fleet footed younger sibling might have some insight into her disappearing shoes.
And she was right. Because he stood at the top of the stairs and tossed one of her boots down them. The boot was followed by a rapidly scampering dog.
"Dog's a menace," Mark muttered, holding one of his own sneaker's at arm's length. It was covered in a thick layer of dog drool.
"Why did you give him my shoes?" Lilly yelped.
"To get mine away from him," Mark retorted before dodging her swipe in his direction and locking himself in his room.
"Stupid dog. Stupid brother. Stupid Mom." Lilly spoke to herself as she hopped down the steps, not only looking for the dog, but also keeping an eye out for the missing half of her pair of shoes. Her mother had started dating a dentist a few weeks ago, and that dentist had a dog. He was out of town for a conference for the entire weekend. So far, the dog had chewed through three pillows, a table leg, and a bag of frozen peas.
Lilly's mother thought he was an adorable puppy that needed to be trained. Lilly agreed with her brother's assessment. The dog was a menace.
And it was currently under the dining room table guarding both of her boots. Not chewing on them. Not drooling on them. Just happily laying there with one paw on each boot. His tail was wagging when Lilly knelt down to watch him. She cocked her head to one side. The dog cocked his head to one side. Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached forward to grab one shoe, but the dog clamped down and hurriedly dragged it into the living room.
Not stopping to think, Lilly jammed the one abandoned boot onto her foot and hobbled after the dog. Again, he wasn't biting down, just holding the shoe there and watching her, his tail wagging back and forth the whole time.
"You just want to play, huh?" Lilly asked him softly. "Okay. Let's see what we have for you to play with that isn't a thirty dollar shoe."
He didn't want the ball she offered. Not the squeaky hamburger either. Or the knotted rope. Of course, he didn't want any of the objects that were actually toys for dogs. That would be too easy. So, Lilly grabbed the only thing in the living room that her mother wouldn't care about breaking. The umbrella sitting on the coffee table.
She waved it back and forth a few times, watching the dog's eyes follow the tiny purse sized umbrella. She lifted it a little higher, and he sat up. She threw it across the room, watched him skid along after it, and grabbed her shoe. She did have to wipe it down in the kitchen, and vowed that she would polish them later if she had to, but she was already late.
Her date didn't appreciate the story about the dog and the umbrella when she finally showed up. Needless to say, they didn't end up having a second date anyway.
As a shield from the storm. Any storm. Didn't matter which.
"Dude, how long's he been standing out there?"
It was Todd who asked the question. And at first, no one answered. The group of students were gathered at the end of the hall, some of them with faces touching the glass, trying to get a glimpse of the man outside. And it was Lilly who answered after a swift check of the time on her watch.
"Nineteen minutes, thirty seconds, give or take." She could feel Miley and Oliver watching her now instead of the teacher outside, but she didn't look at them. She felt bad for the guy standing out there in the pouring rain. He didn't deserve what he got. It wasn't fair. But with only ten minutes left on their lunch break, most students were beginning to filter back into the cafeteria.
"Wish there was something we could do for him," Oliver mumbled, but he took a step back from the window.
Lilly nodded slightly, her eyes unfocused, and she suddenly spun on her heel to return to their American Government classroom. While there, she picked up an umbrella from the back window sill, one decorated in Garfield comic strips, and headed outside into the downpour.
"Lils, what are you-"
But Lilly didn't hear the rest of the question. She was already outside, the water thrumming around her, the door shutting behind her. She stepped lightly and carefully over the deeper puddles, careful not to slip or slide on the wet concrete, and all too soon, she was right next to the teacher she had known since she was eleven years old.
"This weather kind of sucks, huh, Mr. C?" she tried conversationally.
He kept staring straight ahead, into the wall of water ahead of them. It was coming down in sheets now, and Lilly was getting worried.
"You think I'll have to float home in a boat?" she joked, but he didn't even crack a smile. "I see that this crazy feline stole another pan of lasagna," she needled, holding the umbrella high above her head, trying to reach up enough to catch him under the span of the cover.
His eyes flitted over to her, and his mouth curved up in half a smile.
"I thought you might want your umbrella," Lilly told him seeing that his attention had shifted, if only slightly. "You know, cause you want to stay dry, right?"
Mr. Corelli cracked a smile, took the umbrella from Lilly's outstretched hand and held it over both of their heads. "Yep. Dryness is an important trait. Wouldn't want to come back in and have everyone think I've been sweating or something."
"I've got some coconut body spray in my locker if you're worried about smelling like a wet cat or something."
"Why would I smell like a cat? You think I smell like a cat?"
"I didn't say you smell like a wet cat. I said you could be worried about smelling like a wet cat. That's all." She smiled, then tried to say something upbeat, but failed. "I'm really going to miss you Mr. C." He went silent again. "I just wanted you to know that you're one of my favorite teachers... ever. And I think you're going to be great... at whatever you decide to do next."
"I didn't decide to quit Lilly, I was fired," he said shortly.
"But look at it this way, you've been teaching her for three years now, and you were at the middle school for ten years before that, maybe now is time for a change. When one door closes, another one opens. There's always sunlight through the clouds."
"How many cliches are you going to throw at me here, Truscott?"
"As many as it takes." She paused, then added, "You know, there's always a rainbow after a storm."
"Well... I always did want to be in a band," he mused with a smile. "Or become a chef. Then, I could make all the lasagna I wanted."
A/N: I thought about doing another section that would be more romantic, but I like these better. Just little snippets into the life of Lilly. Sorry there's not a whole lot of Oliver in this one, but maybe there will be in V. Cause I can think of lots of words that start with V that could be appropriate.