How to Stay Out of Prison: A Modern-Day Woman's Guide

Prologue

Lyrical – (9-Years-Old)~

This was dumb.

They were dumb.

I mean, nothing they were saying was making any sense to me.

"But...Aunt Blanche asked us how she looked in her big purple dress," I argued. "I just answered her question."

My mom closed her blue eyes as she let out one of those breaths that fill up your lungs too much. "Lyrical..."

I crossed my arms over my chest, and I almost rolled my eyes, but my dad would spank me for that, so I didn't. "I don't understand, Mom," I said again. "You guys are acting like it's my fault she looks like a big, wrinkly, purple plum in that dress."

Dad laughed, and Mom shot him that look that she always did when he was in trouble but didn't want to get him in trouble in front of us. Dad immediately stopped laughing, then Mom turned back to me. "Lyric, honey," she said, using her soft voice. "I know it might be hard for you to understa-"

I started shaking my head at her. "You're not supposed to lie," I reminded her. "You and Dad tell me all the time that I'm not supposed to lie." I looked between my mom and dad to make sure that they knew that I did my best to listen to them when they told me stuff. "You guys told me that lying is wrong, and I'm supposed to always tell the truth."

Mom closed her eyes again while Dad leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands squeezing together. They were sitting on the couch, and I was sitting on the table that was always in the middle of our living room. They always sat me here when they needed to talk to me together.

It sucked.

I hated this table.

"Lyric," Dad said, taking over where Mom left off, "I-we don't want you lying, that is true-"

"So, then-"

Dad put his hand up to stop me from talking. That was his nice way of telling us to shut up. "Lyrical, while it's true that lying is wrong, there are these things called little white lies, and people tell them when they don't want to hurt someone's feelings."

I didn't understand.

I tilted my head to the side. "But isn't lying still hurting someone's feelings?" I asked. "I mean, if you lied to Mom about something, wouldn't her feelings be hurt if she found out you lied?"

I watched as my parents shared a look, and I squinted my eyes at them. They were trying to trick me; I just knew it.

Mom did that breathing thing again. "It's not that simple, Lyric," she said, trying to explain her point. "While lying is wrong, sometimes you can tell a little fib, so that no one's feelings get hurt."

I uncrossed my arms, then threw them up in the air. "I don't understand," I said again. "Isn't it better for me to tell Aunt Blanche that she looks like a big, wrinkly, purple plum, so that she can change, instead of letting her walk around looking like a big, wrinkly, purple plum?" I shrugged a shoulder. "I mean, that seems more mean to me than telling her the truth." I looked at my dad and ignored my mom's prayers.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled.

My eyes widened. "You're not supposed to use The Lord's name in vain," I reminded him.

I watched as my father ran both his hands through his thick brown hair, and then down his face. "Lyric, you're killing me here, sweetie," he said, shaking his head.

I crossed my arms over my chest again. "What do you guys want me to do?" I knew that I wasn't supposed to lie, but I didn't want to get in trouble by my parents, either. "Do I tell the truth or don't I?"

"It's not that simple, Lyric," my mother tried to explain again.

"It should be," I grumbled.

"Yes, it should," my father agreed. "It should be, but life isn't always black and white."

I was so confused.

"What does that mean?"

My mother sighed. "It just means that you need to think about your words before you say them."

This felt like a trick.

"So, do I get in trouble for lying or don't I?" I asked because I needed to know.

"It depends on the lie, Lyric," my father said.

"That's not fair!"

"Life never is, honey," my father said.