She Came to Conquer

I held my books tightly against my chest, praying to stay unnoticed as I made my way through the chaotic school hallway. Not that I really needed to try. Most people didn't even know I existed-except to make fun of me.

Thanks to my parents' rules on extreme modesty, I was "Elizabeth, the nerd"-the quiet girl with oversized glasses that slid down her nose, braces that glinted under the fluorescent lights, and skirts so long they nearly swept the floor.

A group of girls strolled past, their laughter sharp and cutting.

"Hey, Saint Elizabeth!" one of them called, eyeing my skirt with a sneer. "Love the skirt-very fashionable in 1910!" Her voice rose in a mocking laugh.

Heat rose in my cheeks, but I kept walking, my gaze fixed on the floor. I had learned the hard way that ignoring them was easier than trying to fight back.

When I finally reached my classroom, I slipped into my usual seat near the window-safe, distant, and just out of the teacher's direct line of sight. I pulled out my notebook and pen, determined to focus on the lesson. But the bell rang, and then he walked in.

Daniel.

My heart skipped, and I ducked my head, pretending to be busy. But I didn't need to look to know exactly what he looked like. I'd memorized every detail. His warm golden skin always caught the light just right, and his perfectly trimmed dark hair never seemed out of place. But it was his smile that got me every time-effortless, dazzling, the kind of smile that left every girl giggling and made even the guys envy him.

"Morning, everyone," he said casually, his deep, honeyed voice washing over the room like a spell.

"Good morning, Daniel!" a group of girls chorused, their voices overflowing with adoration.

I glanced up quickly, catching sight of his dimpled grin before he slid into his favorite seat in the middle of the room. My heart pounded as I turned my eyes back to my notebook, doodling little spirals in the margins.

He didn't even know I existed.

But what if he did? What if he smiled at me, or leaned over and asked me to borrow a pencil? My thoughts spun faster than I could control. It was ridiculous, really. Someone like him noticing me? Impossible. And yet, the fluttering in my chest refused to stop.

"Elizabeth!" The teacher's voice cut through my daydream like a knife.

I jumped in my seat, my pen slipping from my hand and clattering to the floor.

"Are you paying attention?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Y-yes, ma'am," I stammered, quickly straightening in my seat.

The class erupted into muffled laughter, and I felt my face grow hot.

By the time the bell rang, I was ready to escape, but as I stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice called out behind me.

"Elizabeth, wait!"

I froze. Was that-?

I turned slowly, tightening the grip on my books to ease my racing heart, and there he was-Daniel, standing a few feet away, holding out a pen.

"You dropped this," he said, his easy smile lighting up his face.

"Oh, t-thank you," I mumbled, my fingers brushing his as I took the pen. The touch sent a jolt through me, my chest tightening with a mixture of nerves and exhilaration.

"No problem," he said with a nod before walking off, disappearing into the crowd as if nothing had happened.

I stood there for a moment, frozen, my pulse thrumming in my ears. It was such a small moment, a simple exchange, but to me, it felt monumental. For a brief second, I wasn't invisible. Daniel saw me.

But the glow didn't last long.

"Better not faint next time Daniel talks to you!" a girl's voice jeered as she walked past, her laughter echoing down the hallway.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move. The hours ticked by unnoticed for the rest of the day. I replayed the moment over and over, wondering if I could have said something different, done something to make him pause just a little longer. Maybe next time. Maybe . . .

~•~

At home, the air was heavy with the aroma of mac and cheese. My father's voice boomed from the living room, reciting scripture with the fervor of a preacher.

"The devil is as conniving as he is patient," he declared, his finger pointed like a warning, his voice as sharp as the creak of our old wooden floors. "That's why the Bible says, 'Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he will not depart from it.'"

I nodded automatically from my spot on the couch. "Yes, Father," I said, my hands folded in my lap.

"Good," he said, snapping the Bible shut with a finality that made me flinch. "Remember, Elizabeth, the world is full of traps. You must guard your heart. Stay disciplined. The moment you stray, you invite destruction into your life."

To be honest, I'd heard this sermon every day since I could talk. At this point, I could recite it in my sleep. Still, I forced myself to nod, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.

Mother's voice chimed in from the kitchen. "And don't forget to continue meditating on Psalm 119. You need to memorize all 176 verses."

"Yes, Mother," I replied softly, even though I knew I wouldn't have time. Between school and chores, there was barely time to think, let alone study.

After dinner, I retreated to my room-the only place I could breathe. My bedroom was a cozy space with a comfortable bed, a cluttered desk, and a window that overlooked the quiet suburban street outside. Posters of my favorite gospel bands covered the walls, and a worn-out rug stretched across the floor. On the desk sat my Bible, untouched, and hidden beneath my mattress was the notebook that held my real dreams.

I pulled it out and flipped through the pages, smiling faintly at the lists and doodles. Places I wanted to visit: Paris, New York City, Tokyo. Things I wanted to do: ride a rollercoaster, laugh without worrying who was listening, wear jeans.

At the very back, in bold, block letters, I'd written one word: FREEDOM.

I traced the letters with my finger, letting myself imagine what it would feel like to escape this life, to step outside without my father's voice in my head.

"Elizabeth!"

Mother's voice snapped me out of my daydream. I shoved the notebook under the mattress and rushed to the kitchen.

"Have you done the dishes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not yet, Mother," I admitted.

"Then why are you just standing around?"

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, hurrying to the sink. As I scrubbed the plates, I thought about Daniel's smile, about the way my heart had fluttered when he'd called my name.

Maybe one day, I'd be free to chase dreams like that. Maybe one day, I'd be free to chase anything.

But for now, freedom was just a word I wrote in secret, hidden away where no one could see.