Elle No-Middle-Name Sundry

The following story was awarded a Gold Medal for Flash Fiction in the Scholastic Arts & Writing Awards.

Elle No-Middle-Name Sundry was elected Class Monitor of Ms. Morin’s second grade class. A better word for elected would be “bribed-every-kid-in-the-class-with-chocolate”; but that was not, in fact, a word in the Webster Dictionary that sat on her father’s desk. ‘Democracy’ isn’t a word typically found in most seven year olds’ vocabularies anyways, so she figured it didn't really matter.

As class monitor, Elle Aspiring-President Sundry proposed a Three Pronged Approach to ease the rivalry between Class Monitor and Line Leader. Taking advice from the grand ol’ Washington himself, she was a girl of neutrality. But if Lindsey Stick-Up-Her-Butt Wong tried to order the class to clean up just one more time, she would soon cut the line on purpose.

Elle Livelovelle4234 Sundry declared she would spend less characters on texting Sam New-Kid-On-The-Block McAllister, who had yes, been very cute, but who also seemed to throw his phone across the ocean just before she clicked the Send! button. Instead, her fresh start began at Sunday dinner, where she had declared her aspirations of becoming a writer to anyone who would listen — namely, the worn silverware and Boxer, the pitbull. Next on the list was the hunt for a Starbucks or a 24/7 diner at which to nest. She had dreams of plot twists and what her characters would look like opening doors to surprise parties and how much angst she would put in her narration before it sounded too much like her older brother’s dismal reality.

Elle Stuck-In-Middle-School Sundry started shaving when Lily's older sister had told them that that was the Quick! Easy! No Extra Work Required! step to becoming a Woman — full of curves and sophistication and an air of self assuredness. Goodbye training bras and awkward ragged edges and, oh gosh, those st-st-stutters, and hello high school road trips and goodnight kisses on front porches!

Elle Feeling-the-Teenage-Blues Sundry soon learned that she hadn't needed to keep up the tiring habit of shaving because she had previously little to no hair anyways. Being a so-called 'Woman' was not all that it shaved up to be — a specious illusion of calm, cool and collected. In reality, she missed the naiveté of childhood and wonder, taken for granted by her efforts to speed up time. Her mother assured her that the teenage years would pass, but adult life did not equal freedom.

Elle Hit-A-Creative-Block Sundry couldn’t help feeling like she was way over her head. Her thoughts were a mumble of director screenshots, not yet articulated into scenes. The act of sitting there and typing out her ide- nothing came out right. She couldn't fathom words to translate her myriad of consciousnesses into single strands of thought.  There were too many 'AND CUT’s' but not even a mere 'That's a wrap!'

Elle Failing-Engelish Sundry couldn’t help but cringe at the SLAM! of the front door. She glanced towards the clock — 3:00 AM. The floors creaked, and she held her breath as she heard him stumble, his words trailing behind his six foot figure. “Ell-elliie c-c-come heere,” he stuttered, almost as if his words tripped over the front porch of his lips as they walked out into the glaring spotlight of his once collective family. Now amidst the grasshoppers and moonlit shadows, she prayed her mother wouldn’t be awake to see the sight of this stranger in the shell of the man she once loved. Her older brother beat her to it, and soon she wished she could’ve saved them all from the crACK! and the groan that followed. Over the years, his angst had turned to pure anger, and her mother’s introversion had soon hid itself into submission.

Elle Fake-Smiles Sundry placed the chicken noodle soup, milk, and eggs neatly into place. She rang up Lindsey Yale-Bound Wong for the last time at their small town grocery store, wishing someone would help her find her snug fit to avoid the broken egg shells.

Elle Daddy-Issues Sundry doesn’t cry at his funeral. She thinks about burying him with his old stainless steel hip flask, but decides against it. Instead of insensitivity, she opts for a ripped page out of her own personal Bible.

“pick /pik/ verb

1 : to choose or select (someone or something) from a group

2 : to remove (a fruit, flower, etc.) from a plant especially by using your hand”

Elle drives down to the Blue Bay Diner, throws her grocery store name tag out the window. Goodbye “Hello, I’m Miriam!” and hello anyone who will listen enough to give her solace. She glances at the Now Hiring! sign with sweet relief, takes out her blue pen and writes her name on the form.

Last Name: Sundry First Name: Elle Middle Name:

At least this time, she gets to pick.