Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie, Gordo, Kate, Miranda, or Ethan.
Reflections Of A Cheerleader
I watch Lizzie and Gordo walk down the hall, the tips of their fingers slightly
entwined, as if they want to be holding hands, but are afraid to. I want to laugh, and make
a crack about Loosie andGordork finding love, but I can't. Because, deep down, I think
they're adorable, and I'm a bit jealous of their obvious attraction.
I've been going out with Ethan Craft, yes the Ethan Craft, class hottie for about
two months. We go out on dates, frequenting the more expensive places where he can
pay with his ditzy stepmother's credit card. As much as I like Ethan, I could never call it
love. I'm just with him for the glamour. Most popular girl and most popular boy.
Everyone looks better with a cute boy on their arm, right? What Ethan doesn't have in the
brain department, he makes up for in looks. I could almost just drool thinking of his
shaggy, dark blonde hair and his sparkling eyes, but I wouldn't want to mess up my
lipstick. You don't spend an hour every morning on your hair and another half hour on
makeup just to mess it up thinking about a boy. Ethan's a nice person and all, but instead
of intelligent conversation, we just spend the entire night basking in each other's beauty. I
know I'm great to look at, but two hours is long enough to go without talking while he
stares up at the ceiling, dumbfounded as usual.
Gordo. I remember being friends with him for years, and finally being accepted
into their group of three. Miranda was wary of me when I first approached them, shorter
than almost everyone in the grade with white blonde pigtails. I wanted to be best friends
with them; I promised to share my animal crackers if they let me. Lizzie, was an
accepting person, but went with whatever Miranda said, because even at seven years old
was a steadfast, stubborn girl with black braids and a penchant for mismatched clothes.
But Gordo, unassuming Gordo with his mop of dark curls, immediately took Lizzie and
Miranda and persuaded them to be friends. I don't know what he said or what made them
change their mind, but Lizzie came out of the conversation with a large smile; Miranda, a
determined pout. But years later, they weren't good enough for me, so I moved on to the
cheerleaders and the world of popularity. But still, I remember sweet Gordo, and his
nature that's still the same today. He was always smart, smart in that way that made you
want to listen to his insightful comments for hours. He made Ethan seem like a block of
wood, dumber than usual, if that was even possible. In first grade, teachers took Ethan's
stupidity as a passing phase, but now, we were almost in ninth grade. This was
permanent. I was getting sick of eating lunch with him and watching him gaze at the
clouds or tell me about his piranha, Johnny. But he was a pretty face, and that's what
made me like him the most.
I always knew Lizzie and Gordo would end up together. It's like, how you know
that plaid and stripes don't go together or not to mix a brown belt and black shoes. It's a
fact you're born knowing, and no life experiences can change it. I watch the door of a
classroom open, and Ethan comes barreling out of it, barely missing a collision with the
wall.
"Hey, Kate," he grins at me, that big, goofy grin that always entices me.
"Hey, Ethan," I wink at him, hoping it won't smudge my carefully applied
mascara, and wrap him in a hug. This is popularity. This is having a boyfriend that
everyone is jealous of. This is what I've always wanted. It's like Barbie and Ken, cruising
in the Pink Convertible and wearing their custom made clothing, knowing that this life is
tailor-made for them, from the makers of Mattel. Lizzie and Gordo may be cute, but this
is Ethan and I. The most popular people in school, ruling from atop our thrones. Bow
down to us, worship us, and be jealous of what we have. Just don't touch the makeup or
the pop-poms, or you've got a death wish.
Reflections Of A Cheerleader
I watch Lizzie and Gordo walk down the hall, the tips of their fingers slightly
entwined, as if they want to be holding hands, but are afraid to. I want to laugh, and make
a crack about Loosie andGordork finding love, but I can't. Because, deep down, I think
they're adorable, and I'm a bit jealous of their obvious attraction.
I've been going out with Ethan Craft, yes the Ethan Craft, class hottie for about
two months. We go out on dates, frequenting the more expensive places where he can
pay with his ditzy stepmother's credit card. As much as I like Ethan, I could never call it
love. I'm just with him for the glamour. Most popular girl and most popular boy.
Everyone looks better with a cute boy on their arm, right? What Ethan doesn't have in the
brain department, he makes up for in looks. I could almost just drool thinking of his
shaggy, dark blonde hair and his sparkling eyes, but I wouldn't want to mess up my
lipstick. You don't spend an hour every morning on your hair and another half hour on
makeup just to mess it up thinking about a boy. Ethan's a nice person and all, but instead
of intelligent conversation, we just spend the entire night basking in each other's beauty. I
know I'm great to look at, but two hours is long enough to go without talking while he
stares up at the ceiling, dumbfounded as usual.
Gordo. I remember being friends with him for years, and finally being accepted
into their group of three. Miranda was wary of me when I first approached them, shorter
than almost everyone in the grade with white blonde pigtails. I wanted to be best friends
with them; I promised to share my animal crackers if they let me. Lizzie, was an
accepting person, but went with whatever Miranda said, because even at seven years old
was a steadfast, stubborn girl with black braids and a penchant for mismatched clothes.
But Gordo, unassuming Gordo with his mop of dark curls, immediately took Lizzie and
Miranda and persuaded them to be friends. I don't know what he said or what made them
change their mind, but Lizzie came out of the conversation with a large smile; Miranda, a
determined pout. But years later, they weren't good enough for me, so I moved on to the
cheerleaders and the world of popularity. But still, I remember sweet Gordo, and his
nature that's still the same today. He was always smart, smart in that way that made you
want to listen to his insightful comments for hours. He made Ethan seem like a block of
wood, dumber than usual, if that was even possible. In first grade, teachers took Ethan's
stupidity as a passing phase, but now, we were almost in ninth grade. This was
permanent. I was getting sick of eating lunch with him and watching him gaze at the
clouds or tell me about his piranha, Johnny. But he was a pretty face, and that's what
made me like him the most.
I always knew Lizzie and Gordo would end up together. It's like, how you know
that plaid and stripes don't go together or not to mix a brown belt and black shoes. It's a
fact you're born knowing, and no life experiences can change it. I watch the door of a
classroom open, and Ethan comes barreling out of it, barely missing a collision with the
wall.
"Hey, Kate," he grins at me, that big, goofy grin that always entices me.
"Hey, Ethan," I wink at him, hoping it won't smudge my carefully applied
mascara, and wrap him in a hug. This is popularity. This is having a boyfriend that
everyone is jealous of. This is what I've always wanted. It's like Barbie and Ken, cruising
in the Pink Convertible and wearing their custom made clothing, knowing that this life is
tailor-made for them, from the makers of Mattel. Lizzie and Gordo may be cute, but this
is Ethan and I. The most popular people in school, ruling from atop our thrones. Bow
down to us, worship us, and be jealous of what we have. Just don't touch the makeup or
the pop-poms, or you've got a death wish.