More Nizzy issues...

Chapter 9

~Izzy's Point-of-View~

Because I think I finally understand him. Sometimes, he acts nice to me, and then sometimes he's the opposite. Now, my mom says that that's just how boys show their affect for a girl. However, Noah isn't like most guys. And then I'm not like most girls, so wouldn't that make this situation the exception? But, then I try to explain that to my mom, and then she's all like, "Izzy, stop worrying about boys. You're too young. Don't you know that's how I met your dad?", and then I'm like, "Mom, did you just say that meeting dad was a mistake?", and mom is like, "No, but what I am trying to say that I don't need you pregnant young like I was.", and then I'm like, "But, mom, I was your first child." and then mom and I have an argument and then I feel as if I'm not going to understand anything about being a teenager anymore and then I start missing sixth grade until I remember this guy named Paul Smith and how much I hated him because he made my life horrible because we had a bunch of class together and then I realize that he acted a lot like Noah.

And then I realize altogether. And then I thank my mom. And now here I am today, in Mr. Mack's fifth period science class.

And now I don't like Noah anymore. At all. Because he's eerily similar to Paul. And I hate Paul Smith.

"Mom, do I have to go to you to Target?" I whined to my mom as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, pulling her fiery red, but tame, hair into a sharp ponytail.

"Yes, Izzy, you have to go today. You don't like doing anything calm. You need a bit more 'social' interaction besides school."

"Why'd you say 'social' like that?" I asked.

"Because, I could." my mom said with a grin.

"Izzy wishes that, too."

"Izzy wishes what?"

"Izzy doesn't know. She just wanted to say something." I said, grinning. My mom put on her jacket and shoes, then tugged on my hair.

"Come on crazy girl, we're going to Target." she said in a teasing manor.

"Fine mommie, I'm going." I said, jumping up to go downstairs to get my shoes and jacket.

I waited, patiently I may add, in the living room for my mom to come down to leave. She turn the alarm on, and went out the door, me following her.

"Can I drive today, please?" I ask, "Since I'm already being forced again my will to attend your shopping trip?" Yeah, it's called a license, baby.

My mom stopped to think about it. Her face went through many years of emotions.

"Yes...Izzy, you can...drive..." she says as she reopens the driver door to switch sides. I followed suit.

I'm driving a car again! Whoot!

I pull into Target's parking lot with my mom clamping onto the door handle and tapping her fingers restlessly on the armrest.

"Mom, you are okay, right?" I ask.

"You only had your full license for two months, right?" she asks.

"Yep!" I exclaim.

"That...explains so much."

"Mom," I turn to face her. She faces me, "It's going to be okay. You can drive us home."

My mom sighs, then opens the door. I near-kick the door open, almost hit a green Ford parked next to me, and then run to the entrance.

"Izzy!" my mom calls out, "You're not five anymore!"

"I know mom!" I laugh, then tell the automatic doors, "Open sesame.", then skip to the shopping carts.

I walk next to my mom as she pushes the basket through several departments of the store. Clothes, Jewelry, Beauty...what's the name of the department where they keep dish soap? I forget. But, anyways, now we're on the food aisle.

"Izzy, can you get me some of those chocolate raspberry granola bars?" my mom asks me.

"Sure. Be right back." I say as I sprint towards the cereal/granola aisle. I grab the green and white box, then sprint back towards my mom. Then I see black and white, t.v. static, and then finally the store, and me sitting on the floor.

"Gah." I hear myself, and someone else, say. I touch my forehead to inspect the damage.

"Izzy's bad." I mutter to whomever I ran into.

"Yeah, I know." I hear the person say snidely. I look up to see none other than Know-It-All.

I roll my eyes.

"Oh, it's you." I tell him.

"Same here." he replies.

I start to get up. He reaches up.

"A little help?" he asks. I almost help until I remember. I pull my hand back.

"Eah, helping isn't my forte." I say, then begin to walk back to my mom. No more running in the store – especially around corners – anymore.

"That sounds familiar."

"And it is. See'ya in Science."

And I walk back to the basket, dropping the granola bar in the red basket.

"What held you up?" my mom asked.

"Business to attend to." I say. My mom smirks, and resumes shopping. I hope I don't have to see Noah in the store again today. I can only take ninety minutes, Monday through Friday of Noah-ness.

That's it folks. Good day and good night, ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for watching: The Wonderful Life and Times Of Izzy. Be sure to tune in next week for another installment!

Well, it's not over until it's over. And it's not over.

So stay tuned to read more...problems and issues.

As if you don't have enough in your own life...

R3v!3w Pl33z3