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Right

Lizzy was five years old. Lizzy was sat in a tree. The tree was high. The tree was above the High Street. The High Street was in the village where she had lived all of her life. All five years and two months.
   Lizzy watched the adults going about their morning business. She starting throwing apple cores at them from where she was sat. She had been saving up rotten apple cores in a plastic bed under bed for several weeks.

Eventually Lizzy's mother passed, on the way to the shops. An old woman stopped the mother. Lizzy could see them talking but couldn't hear what they were saying as she was too high up. Then the old woman pointed up at Lizzy.
   “Get down this instant young lady!” The mother shouted, looking up.
   “No!” Lizzy shouted back.
   “Get down this instant. Do you want me to call the fire brigade?”
   “Yes.”
   “I will and the police will take you away and lock you up! Do you want to be locked up!”
   “YES!” Shouted Lizzy.
   “What do you think you're doing?”
   “I'm doing what is right.”
   “Pardon?”
   “I'M DOING WHAT IS RIGHT!” Lizzy repeated loader.
   “Excuse me!” The mother couldn't believe what she was hearing, “right? This is wrong you just can't throw apple cores at innocent people going about their business. It's naughty and not right. Get down!”
   “No! Miss Brown said to everyone in the class that we should do what we think is right.”
   “No, you silly girl, not what we think is right. You have to do what is right. There's a difference.”
   The mother was quickly losing patience at the foolishness of the conversation, “oh, just get down!”

Lizzy search for the largest apple core left to throw at her mother. As she threw she slipped. The brevity of Newton's gravity took hold.
   Lizzy clutched at branches but within the tumbling velocity they flew, hopeless childish attempts of nothing.
   In a seconds Lizzy had fell her thirty-nine feet to the mother's feet.

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