CHAPTER 3
The Last Night of Normal
Disclaimers and A/N. As always, I don't own Lizzie McGuire, or any of the characters. Kenny and the rest of Station 28's crew are all mine. This one is the final 'set-up' chapter; basically, everyone's going along with their lives, never dreaming that they are going to change drastically in about twelve...or fewer hours.
Again, guys, I'm really sorry it took so long to get this update to ya...thanks for you patience!
The first raindrops had started speckling Kenny's windshield just before he reached Severna Road, about seven miles from Atlantis Fire Station 28, and now rain had transformed the colorful Old Dominion landscape, quickly turning the bright spring greens and golds into a soggy black and white photograph. A steady rain was smacking angrily against the windshield, sounding for all the world like a militant pan of popping Jiffy Pop as Kenny hung a right of Hensley Road onto Sir Thomas Dale Highway. Shiny-wet pavement kicked fun-house reflections back at him as his wipers swip-swopped monotonously back and forth across the windshield. Passing cars dragged clouds of spray along behind them as orange glimmers pinpointed the banks of sodium vapor streetlights and security lights that a premature dusk had kicked awake early.
He crossed the bridge spanning the CSX tracks, made the light at Martindale Parkway on the green, and hung a left off of Sir Thomas Dale Highway, hazarding a glance at the front of Station 28 as he did so. All three of the glass bay doors were down, the gleaming yellow trimmed white rigs assigned to all three of the station's companies...Engine 28, Truck 4, and Rescue 3...visible behind them.
Another glance at the stereo's digital clock told him it was twenty-five minutes to six. He was twenty-five minutes early, not at all unusual for firefighters coming on shift. Fire/Rescue tended to be one of those jobs staffed by people who wanted to be there. Not, if the weather was any indication that this was shaping up to be a fun twenty-four hours, especially if they ended up being busy, and they would be busy. Rescue 3 just didn't have slow shifts.
Kenny followed a slender ribbon of blacktop around to the parking area behind the station and swung the big Chevy into an empty space next to Gary Barnette's burgundy and silver Ford Explorer Sport. The popcorn noises upgraded themselves to exploding bubble wrap as he shut down and climbed out of his ride, he grabbed his shift bag, hip-shoved the door closed, and bolted towards the shelter of the huge redwood deck that opened off the rear of the station's second floor just as a volley of gumball-size raindrops splattered against the windshield. Kenny made it beneath the shelter of the deck an instant before the sudden downpour bounced raindrops knee high off the parking lot. Rain thundered onto the redwood planks above his head as he punched the code into the back door's combination lock, pulled the heavy smoked glass door open, and walked into the rear of the apparatus bay.
The rain roar diminished to a distant rumble as the door swung closed and latched with a subtle 'snick'. He was instantly engulfed by the distinctive aroma...a not at all unpleasant combination of diesel exhaust, tool oil, smoke and sweeping compound mixed with a dozen or so other subtle aromas...unique to a fire station apparatus bay as he walked towards the radio room, situated at the front of the station on the left side of the bay,. The odor was as native to fire stations as sweat and liniment were to a locker room.
Several 'A' shift fire fighters were down stairs, Stu 'Studley' Rettiger standing with a foot propped up on Engine 28's tailboard, ever-present cup of coffee in hand. Vic Royce was in front of him, thumbs hooked in his pockets as the two of them carried on a conversation.
"Man, it's getting' nasty out..." Kenny announced to nobody in particular as he walked towards the front of the station.
Vic looked up and over, then looked at Stu, jerked his head towards Kenny and said, in a loud good natured, voice...'Told ya 'B' shift was getting really desperate...I mean they'll let any one work...
"I heard that..." Barrel shaped, black haired Russ Leavitt informed them as he walked around from the right side of the engine. Russ, like Kenny, was just coming on duty and was driving Engine 28's big Emergency One Hurricane pumper this shift. He and Stu, in fact, had just finished shift change a minute or so before Kenny arrived.
"Don't worry, Russ..." Kenny threw in, stopping at the rear of Truck 4's rig, resting a hand on a chrome grab rail and adding his two cents worth to the lighthearted war of insults. "Those who can't do, teach...those who can do neither...diss"
Stu replied to Kenny's learned comment by cheerfully suggesting that he add several complicated acts of contortion, followed by a definite physical impossibility, to his daily regimen of exercise.
"Absolutely no class..." Russ noted in mock disgust, shaking his head in a slow, exaggerated fashion. He looked over at Kenny "What is this place comin' to when we have to follow in the paw-steps of such..." He looked over at Vic and Stu, then again shook his head. "Riff-raff."
"You're only jealous because we're beautiful..." Stu deadpanned at them, following it up with another swallow of coffee
"That idn't even worth commenting on..." Kenny noted. Stu simply looked over at Vic, and said 'See...we leave them speechless...' as Kenny shook his head, chuckled, and rolled his eyes. He then looked over at the two 'A' shift firefighters. "You guys been busy?"
"Steady...engine and truck both caught a couple of runs each, Rescue ran five or six." More aromas...these of the stomach-rumble creating variety...drifted down the steps from the kitchen. "Your compatriot in crime's upstairs, by the way...he's apparently responsible for the foul odors coming outa the kitchen..."
"They allowed Gary into the kitchen...around sharp objects? Now that's scary..." Kenny noted in mock alarm, knowing full well that, when Gary Barnette cooked, several off going firefighters inevitably hung around and ate supper. Any rumors anyone has ever heard about firefighters generally being excellent cooks and fire station meals being among the best on the planet are entirely true. "What's he cookin?"
I don't know but what ever it is, if I have to smell it much longer..." Russ commented, patting his belly two handed. "I may have at my boots with some salt and a little mustard..."
"Yeah..." Vic continued. "He showed up about four thirty, chased everyone out of the kitchen, threatened us with dismemberment if we interrupted his creative efforts, and started putting it together..."
Kenny turned his head towards the passageway separating the tool room and radio room and leading to the stairwell, raised his head, and snuffed deeply of the onion, garlic, and beef aroma cascading down the steps. "Oh man. I'm gaining serious weight tonight; I can see that coming now...." He walked over to the door to the glass enclosed radio room. A counter ran along three sides of the room. A radio console and desk mike shared counter space with a pair of police scanners, a HP PC that was networked with the Fire Department's main frame as well as the computers in the city's other 51 stations, and a HP high speed printer. A multiline telephone also sat on the counter, next to it was an intercom box. Kenny put his shift bag on the counter, finger-stabbed the intercom's alert button, then pressed the talk button.
"Barnette...You planin' on poisonin' our asses tonight or what? That smells seriously nasty, man..."
There was a wait of several seconds as Gary made his way to the upstairs intercom box, located on the pass-thru counter between kitchen and dayroom.
"There's some left over baloney in the 'fridge, asshole..." Gary replied good naturedly...Kenny was among Gary's closest friends. "...Can't be more'n...ohhhhh...six, eight months old...."
"Erk..." Kenny replied, screwing his face into a comedy-grimace that, for just an instant, made him look just like his younger sister when she comedy-mugged in reply to something. "What you cookin' up there, anyway..."
"Rice, beef 'n gravy..." Gary informed him. Kenny's stomach rumbled in anticipatory approval. Gary had two methods of cooking the succulent concoction...the quick way, using all canned ingredients...not at all shabby, the way he did it...and the hard way. The latter method involved stew beef, onions, crushed garlic, and a few ingredients that Gary refused to disclose. If he'd gotten there at four thirty, that meant he'd started at home, cooking the stew beef, and transferring the partially finished delicacy to the station. The Hard Way. A meal that wouldn't be at all out of place in some five star restaurants.
"Oh, man, I picked the right day to work OT..." He remembered Kate's comment about Gary. "You, by the way, have apparently been labeled Somewhat Hunk like by Kate...she suggested that Pattie might have to use extreme measures to protect you from marauding bands of Amazons, and dared to suggest that I didn't quite measure up..." In the back ground, he heard Jimmie Link jibe 'Amazons...Where?...WHERE!?!'.
"At least ONE of you two has decent taste...I hope you told her Hi for me in advance..." Gary also had a sixteen-year-old sister, Kim, who cheered for one of Hillridge's archrivals, James Wyatt. The two girls, were in fact, fairly close friends, and were both treated like surrogate sisters, daughters, or nieces by all of Station 28's firefighters.
"She was too busy telling me she didn't have a bad attitude..." Kenny told him, hoping as he said it that Kate had at least briefly thought about what he'd told her. "You, Jimmie, and Ed ready to do shift change so we can let those two losers go home..." Kenny heard Gary key the intercom upstairs and then heard another voice in the background. Gary chuckled in reply at a comment made by Jimmie Link, who, at 36, was the station's patriarch.
"Link says to tell you that you should pray that, at some point in your life you're a quarter as good as the pimple he popped on his butt this morning; that you should be honored and privileged that 'A' shift, the fact that they're getting ready to leave notwithstanding, allowed you the honor of their company; and that, thank you very much, he and Fulcher are staying for supper..." There was a slight commotion, then Jimmie Link's voice burst forth from the speaker.
Yeah, youngster..." Kenny was among the youngest of Station 28's crew. "We will allow you, by the mere virtue of being in our company, to soak up a fraction of our vast store of knowledge..."
"Yeah, but knowledge about what..."
Oh, if only you knew, young Saunders..." Jimmie told him."Hey, we'll be right down. Drug an' IV boxes are sealed by the way, double checked 'em about five minutes ago, go on an' start checkin'the medical stuff out...Gary an' Eddie've already done the driver's shift change"
"Gotcha, Jim." Kenny replied before walking back out of the radio room, and cutting across the apparatus floor towards the big Mack-Saulsbury heavy rescue rig that was crouching, as if ready to pounce, in the far bay.
"Russ, we eatin' good tonight...he's doing Rice and Beef..." Kenny called over to Russ Levette who was busy checking Engine 28's oil and other vital fluids.
"Oh, man" Russ noted in near ecstasy.
"Your waistline won't handle it, man..." Vic jibed at him, getting an equally good-natured barb in return. Kenny shook his head at the two men's antics as walked around the rig to the turnout gear rack along the wall. He grabbed his gear off the rack, walked to the cab, and placed the folded combination of day boots and bunker pants next to the open passenger door. He then pulled himself up in the cab long enough to swap his helmet for Jim's, and finally removed Jim's turnout coat from the seat, replacing it with his, outer liner facing up, so he could just grab it and yank it on. Kenny was now officially on duty.
He neatly folded Jim's gear together and slid it over to the rack, then walked around the front of the rig, ducking around the power cord looping from a ceiling mounted reel to a receptacle beneath the driver's door, and opened the double doors of the big rescue truck's left front compartment. He glanced at the Zoll Monitor-defibrillator, making sure that the green 'On Charge' and 'Battery ready' lights were glowing, then dragged it partway out, and checked the accessory pouch for spare battery, leads, gel, and electrodes. Another quick glance confirmed that the big, orange Tidewater EMS Council drug and IV boxes were indeed sealed. Four green spare oxygen bottles were nestled in PVC tubes below the shelf holding the trauma kit and the bright blue jump bag, their valve stems sealed with yellow tape to indicate that they were, in fact, full bottles. The shelf above the jump bag and airway bag held the burn kit, OB kit, and Broslow Bag. The bottom part of the compartment...actually a traverse compartment that also opened on the other side of the unit...held five bright yellow plastic backboards, an aluminum scoop stretcher, a Reeves stretcher, two sets of Hare Traction Splints (Adult and pediatric) and a long vinyl bag containing an assortment of padded board splints. Two gray plastic boxes...one containing five folded spider straps, and the other containing belts, all for the backboards, resided just above the backboard compartment. The gray pouches containing Timmons' splints, a set of air splints, and a bright orange vinyl pouch containing vacuum splints, shared space with the spider strap and belt boxes. Just above them were three green vinyl bags holding K.E.D.s. On charge and' ready' lights also glimmered from the two Laerdal portable suction units. Other shelves held even more equipment. And this was just one of ten compartments on the rig. Kenny could, if asked, go to any of the ten, and put his hand on any of the hundreds of items the rig carried.
Kenny pulled the jump bag and airway bags out, setting them on the floor, then dragged the big trauma kit out and set it down next to the jump bag. He unzipped the jump bag's cover and popped open the latches for the trauma kit, checking the contents of both for presence and quantity. He'd just opened the jump bag and cracked the valve on the O-two bottle, nodding with satisfaction as the needle on the small gauge jumped over to about 1650 PSI, when he heard an enthusiastically sarcastic 'He works...actually on occasion, performs actual physical labor..."
There was a sibilant 'psssssss' as Kenny cut the O-two off then cracked the discharge to drain the regulator.
"And he actually manages to almost give the impression he knows what he's doing..."
Kenny, then turned and, looking over his shoulder, grinned at his two cohorts, flipped a quick middle finger at them before using that same finger to scratch his head as he gave them a classic Steve Urkle 'Did I do thayet' expression.
"Real nice..." Jimmie Link said to Kenny before looking over at Gary Barnette. ""I'm injured Gary...the youth of today...they have no respect..."
"You can dress 'em up..." Gary started, leaving the well-known saying unfinished as Jimmie continued.
"...And you..." To Kenny. "...How can you accuse that dear sweet child..."
"Kate??"
"Of course...dear sweet child of having a bad attitude..."
"She was deeply into the 'Diva' mode today..."
"Our lovely little Kate..." Jimmie shook his head. "A 'Diva?...this, I guess, is why I'm glad I have boys..." Jimmie continued, still shaking his head. "I don't envy the two of you, trying to figure out girlfriends, and sisters...
"Oh, an' I think I can speak for Gary, too, we gave up on that ages ago...just nod and say'Mmm-hmmm at the right places..." Gary was exaggeratedly nodding in agreement. "You're relieved, by the way, Jim..." Kenny told Jimmie Link as he stood up and turned towards the two other paramedics, towering over Gary's five ten and Jimmie Link's five eleven.
"Thank ya Kenny..." Jim told him gratefully. Jimmie Link was brown haired, built like a cinderblock, and had a round, fleshy face. Hazel eyes brimming with intelligence...and a bit of mischief...twinkled astride a fleshy nose. Gary, other than height, was cut from much the same mold as Kenny. Blonde-haired, blue eyed, and sinewy with a triangular face and a bushy mustache, he had an easy-going personality and a dry, sarcastic wit. BUT, woe unto anyone who earned his scorn.
"So far, looks like we're in good shape..." Kenny told them, nodding towards the compartment.
"Should be good to go...we haven't turned a wheel since about three o'clock, an' that was a BLS transport, so we really haven't used anything..." A particularly violent clatter of wind-whipped rain rattled against the bay doors, interrupting Jim mid sentence. Kenny whistled softly as all three of them looked through the rain-streaked glass panels towards T Dale Highway to see a fuzzy, blurry, rain bleared parade of homeward bound vehicles. Rain was slamming into the apron and roadway hard enough to form a knee-high curtain of mist as it bounced. Buildings on the other side of the five-lane roadway were faded to shadowy ghosts by the downpour, which was transmitting a muffled, subway train tumble through the bay doors.
"That keeps up, it won't be quiet for long..." Kenny noted. "Where's Eddie, by the way..."
"Upstairs, guarding supper..."
"Lord help us all, It won't be any left..." Kenny jibed, again managing a momentary uncanny resemblance to Kate as he rolled his eyes.
"I told him if he so much as dipped a finger in it, HE was ridin' in next day if we catch Renelia..." Jimmie noted, referring to one of their skankier frequent flyers, who apparently conserved water by limiting her showers to one or two per decade. Her list of claimed ailments was endless, their legitimacy farcical, and it was widely believed that she had a book of obscure diseases that she consulted before each of her many calls to the Atlantis Emergency Communications Center.
"Changin' the subject..." He looked over at Kenny. "...How many trauma sticks you need to keep from having to spend a lovely day at the training center puncturing disembodied plastic arms?
"Two..." he replied, also holding up two fingers..
"Y'all'll catch a ten-fifty in this mess, I can just about bet it..."
Kenny nodded in agreement. "This keeps up, I could end up gettin' both of them outa the way in one fell swoop..."
Kenny had no clue, of course, that, in a little over twelve hours, events would burn that off-handed comment into his brain forever.
Jo McGuire had pondered on the prospect of cooking for six teenagers all day. Miranda was bringing her boyfriend, and (She'd thought this with a wistful smile...her babies were growing up) Melina would definitely be over here with Matt. Six of them. Not all that different, Jo thought, shaking her head, from trying to cook for the Normandy invasion force. Pizza would be the best move. Teenagers thrived on pizza. Gordo had insisted (Even as he set up his video camera, asked Lizzie if she needed anything else approximately every five seconds, and gazed adoringly at her on numerous occasions) that the free pizza was, in fact, his primary motivation for being there. That comment had simply made Lizzie shake her head and warble a giggly 'Right, Gordo' at her boyfriend.
Jo had been right on all counts. The kids had fallen upon the McGuire home on Orchard Oak Drive only an hour or so after school got out for the day, and had been at it for over six hours now, running on Pizza, Pepsi, and that infinite reserve of run-away energy that only teenagers apparently get to enjoy.
She stuck her head out of the kitchen, smiled at the four teens sitting on the couch, and shook her head lovingly as Lizzie said 'It's still not right', her pretty face pensive with concentration.
"Lizzie, it's perfect!" Jo McGuire told her daughter. She leaned back against the doorframe, a dishrag dangling from her right hand. Lizzie turned to look at her and said 'But you're my mom...you're required to say that..."
"Lizzie..." Matt McGuire began from the kitchen, where he and Melina Bianco were seeing to it that the last couple of pieces of pizza didn't go to waste. 'Trust me on this...a drunk chimp couldn't have done any better', his comment cut short by a giggly 'Shut up, Matt' from Melina, who then called out 'Lizzie, don't listen to dweeb-boy here, you're awesome.
I've been telling you that all day..." David Gordon began, only to be cut off as Lizzie looked at him, grinned, and said 'But you're my boyfriend...You're required to say that to keep me from inflicting serious and painful injury to you..."
"Oh...thanks for explaining that to me, McGuire..." Gordo told her in that cheerfully sarcastic matter-of –fact tone that he had elevated to an art form. They had first watched the tapes of her practices that morning. Lizzie had critiqued and dissected her performance unmercifully as Gordo, Miranda, and Miranda's boyfriend Larry Tudgeman strained their eyes trying to see the non-existent flaws that she claimed existed throughout her routine.
Then, as they ripped into the first Papa John's pizza to buy the farm, Lizzie had continued practicing in the McGuire's' still under construction Florida Room, which was doubling as a rehearsal studio on this particular nasty, rainy April evening. Gordo had brought his video camera, setting it up on a tripod in the Florida room and again recording Lizzie's routine as she practiced. Lizzie would do the routine, and then watch the tape, critiquing herself, cutting her own performance apart as if she was trying out to dance on Miss Spears' next world tour rather than for a high school cheering squad.
Everyone in the McGuire homestead on that rainy evening would be hearing 'Crazy' in his or her sleep for the next month. Everyone but Lizzie thought her performance was somewhere on the far side of amazing.
Gordo gazed adoringly at the television, watching his girlfriend twirl and twist in all but perfect harmony to the catchy, rhythmic beat of 'Crazy'. Her blond hair twirled and fanned, catching highlights from the overhead lights in. He just shook his head, a silly half smile on his face.
"Well, required or not, this comment is entirely voluntary...Wow!!! Unbelievable, McGuire!..." Gordo gushed enthusiastically from his perch on the comfortably worn beige sofa that he, Lizzie, Miranda, and for the last several months, Tudge had spent countless hours on. The music stopped, pausing on-screen Lizzie in mid spin, her face a pretty study in concentration, her long blond hair a gold spun fan frozen in mid-twirl behind and beside her. Blue-trimmed white running shorts showed off her shapely, tanned legs while a dark blue, slightly oversized 'Tommy Girl' 'T' shirt was freeze-framed with it's tail sweeping out and around in a graceful swirl..
"It reeks" A chirpy voice noted in critical self-appraisal. Gordo rolled his eyes, then looked next to him, where only a millimeter or two away, the video's star sat wearing the very same pair of white track shorts and blue 'Tommy Girl' 'T' shirt. Her hair was a spun-gold fan cascading across her shoulders in exercise-induced disarray. A faint sheen of perspiration, rather than making her look tired, gave her a glow of young, lovely health. A smile played across Gordo's lips as he thought, for the millionth time that, A; he was one of the luckiest guys alive, and B; Lizzie was absolutely, adorably beautiful.
Gordo gently pulled her over closer to him with his left arm, which was around her shoulders. "Explain to me, McGuire, just exactly how and where it reeks." He said deadpan. Lizzie aimed the VCR's remote towards the entertainment center, thumbed the slo-mo button, and said 'Watch my pom poms..."
"Every chance I get..." Gordo noted dryly, earning himself a light hearted slap across the chest and a giggly 'Gordo'!" from Lizzie. Miranda Sanchez shook her head, rolled her eyes, and reached over with her left hand to pop him playfully on the back of the head.
"Behave!" Miranda told him. "I really don't want to have to hurt you tonight...
Gordo, I think she means the ones in her hands..." Larry Tudgeman noted from the other side of the couch, where he was sitting with his left arm around Miranda. Miranda was curled up beside him comfortably, still wearing the jeans and shirt she'd worn to school, her arms around his waist and her head resting on his shoulder, a pairing that, a year or so ago, would have been considered all but impossible. They were now one of two couples that everyone at HHS...even, secretly; many of Kate's crew...were betting strongly would one day walk down the aisle.
"Thank you, Larry..." The pretty blond half of the other such couple said. "It's nice to know there are a few gentlemen left..."
"Him..?" Miranda noted in mock surprise, her pretty face set in an exaggerated comedy-grimace as she lifted her head, moved her left arm, and pointed a slender finger at her boyfriend. Larry just rolled his eyes skyward, shook his head, and breathed, "I am hurt...I am so under appreciated' before taking a sip of the Pepsi in his other hand.
"What's there to appreciate?" Miranda asked, deadpan, looking over at her two best friends in mock puzzlement.
"I appreciate you, Larry..." Lizzie told him
"Thank you fair maiden...and you do rock by the way..."
"No I don't..." She noted turning and grimacing at the image on the TV screen. "I'm lopsided..." She stopped mid-sentence, glaring at Gordo for an instant. Gordo looked...genuinely...confused for an instant, saying 'What?' He then looked beside him to see Miranda also fixing him with a death-stare. "What!?" Gordo again asked. Next to them, Miranda's glare collapsed as she chuckled at Gordo's stricken puzzlement.
"I love you..." Lizzie kissed him on the cheek. "But sometimes you are so clueless..." Gordo just looked even more confused as he said 'Thanks...I think'
"...But look..." Lizzie nodded towards the screen, "...One hand's higher than the other..." She thumbed the reverse button on the remote. Her onscreen image stopped, then jerkily turned back around. "See my left hand..."
"A whole half inch" Gordo told her. "And I think it's because of the way you're twirling...The pom-pom in your left hand's swinging in toward you, the other ones swinging out and up."
"Like it makes any difference...Lizzie, you're too hard on yourself! " Miranda scolded her best friend "Britney couldn't have done a better job...you can't even tell watching you, only way I saw it was when you slo-mo'd it"
"Kate'll notice...he'll find the least little thing to keep me off the squad..."
"Kate'll be too busy making sure everyone's looking at her to notice anything less than a hurricane." Miranda noted.
Yeah, Lizzie..." Another voice chimed in from behind them. All four heads turned as Matt McGuire walked in from the kitchen. In his right hand was the sole surviving slice of the last of the four extra-large pizzas that Jo had ordered and they had done away with over the preceding six hours. "You almost don't look spastic," He continued, handily sidestepping the throw pillow hurled in his direction by his sister.
"Lizzie, don't throw pillows at your brother..." Jo McGuire called cheerfully from the big kitchen, where she was overhauling the desolate ruins that were the aftermath of six teenagers in the house at the same time.
"Didn't have a cinder block handy..." Lizzie noted deadpan before raising her eyebrows in enquiry and asking her brother "Really, how'd it look."
Matt assumed the sarcastically thoughtful pose that had been his trademark since he could walk, cupping his chin in his right hand and rubbing his chin with his thumb. "For a dweeb..." He quickly tilted his head to the right, escaping the next throw pillow by a millimeter. "...Not bad...seriously though, you've been dancing for four years now, what's cheering but dancing with words?" Matt asked her, now standing with arms akimbo. He took a bite of pizza, chewing slowly as he raised an eyebrow at her.
"He's got a point, McGuire..." Gordo told her.
"Yeah, but..."
"No buts about it, Liz..." Miranda nodded towards the screen. "You are good."
"Really?"
"Really!" Gordo, Miranda, and Tudge exclaimed at the same time. Lizzie turned her head and looked back at her brother.
"Really?"
"If it makes you feel better, you looked like a hyperactive flea on a sugar high..." He shook his head and smiled at his sister. "Don't sell yourself short, Lizzie, much as it pains me to give you a compliment...I can't believe I'm saying this...you're awesome."
"Thanks Matt..." She said, returning the smile.
Matt had filled out, and grown over three inches over the last three years. Another couple of inches and he would catch up with and then pass his sister. Sometime, over the last three years, Lizzie thought to herself as he looked at her younger brother, my bro has turned into a teenager. I actually envy him sometimes...he's got so much self confidence, but then again, he always has. And he can actually be human sometimes...not often mind you, but sometimes And, though I'd never admit it to him, I can definitely see what Melina sees in the kid...Even, she chuckled to her self, if he has a serious problem, dressing himself.. He was wearing a pair of dark green sweat pants and a bright orange 'T' shirt that just didn't come close to matching the sweats, or, indeed, anything in his wardrobe.
"...I like the outfit by the way..." Lizzie told her brother. "What circus is it you're joining again?"
"I'm your replacement...Same one you escaped from..." Her brother countered in the war of insults that had grown to be less of a war of words and more of a light-hearted competition over the last couple of years. He mugged at her, popping an eyebrow upward and smiling sarcastically as if to say 'Top that!'.
"I try, Lizzie, but I can't do anything with him...I've just given up" Another feminine voice spoke up. Matt's expression softened as he looked to see a pretty, blond girl in jeans and a yellow and black CK T shirt walk out of the kitchen. The cute blue-eyed girl shook her head, clicking out an exaggerated 'Tsk Tsk Tsk' as she did so. The expression on her face as she looked at Matt said that her opinion of him was just as high as his was of her.. "...Oh..." She shook her head in faux –frustration, nodding towards the rapidly disappearing slice of pizza "Ya know, I really had my heart set on one more slice..."
"Ya snooze..." He popped the last morsel of crust in his mouth then turned to look at her "Ya loose..." A tiny smile turned the corners of Melina's mouth up. Matt returned the gesture. OMG, Lizzie thought, unable to stifle a giggle as she watched them, he's blushing!
Awwwwwwww" Miranda and Lizzie cooed at about the same instant. The two thirteen year olds' heads snapped around, Melina's long blond hair dancing, both pair of eyes widening as their faces turned scarlet.
"She/he's not my girl/boyfriend!!!" The two of them exclaimed simultaneously.
"Sure..." Gordo said skeptically
"Whatever you say, bro..."
"Guys, would any self respecting girl be seen with..." Melina crossed her arms, turned her head, stared at her alleged non-boyfriend, and paused, looking Matt up and down as if she was trying to figure out just what manor of creature she had happened upon. She finally grimaced, wrinkling her nose, and turned to look at Lizzie and crew. "...This?"
"Ok, you've got a point there..." Lizzie told her, unable to stifle yet another giggle at Malina's antics"
"Ready, 'Lina..." Sam McGuire asked as he walked into the room, using the nickname that Matt's long time friend and alleged non-girlfriend had started going by. He had a set of Volvo keys in his hands.
"Yeah, Mr. McGuire...thanks."
"She can walk, only sweet things melt in the rain..." Matt noted, receiving a punch in the shoulder from Melina. It didn't take a microscope to see the fact that both of them were smiling...the hall light glinting from Melina's retainer... and that Matt was planning on riding along.
Sam McGuire opened the front door, letting the clattering rumble of a full-fledged downpour flood the house.
"Jeeze, it's still raining...run for it guys..." he told Melina and Matt as they made a break for the driveway, pulling the door closed behind them.
"They are so cute!!" Lizzie gushed in a tone of voice that she'd never, in a million years admit to Matt that she ever used when referring to him.
"Kind of reminds me of another couple I seem to recall..." Jo McGuire said. She was standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling mischievously at Lizzie and Gordo.
"Oh no, Mom..." Lizzie scrunched her face up, shaking her head. "We were never like that"
"Oh really..." Jo McGuire guffawed.
"Not a chance..." Gordo added.
Next to them, Miranda tilted her head, widened her eyes and nodded her head in those quick little nods that just drip sarcasm
"Naaaaaa...we couldn't have been..." from Gordo.
"Sorry, Gordo, but...you were..." Tudge noted.
"We were?" From the couple of the moment, to be met with a resounding and simultaneous 'Yes!'
"Everyone at Hillridge Jr. High and, until the two of you finally became official last summer, at HHS, was silently. screaming 'Will you go on and kiss her...or him, as the case may be...Lizzie, there were bets placed on what month and day you two would finally actually become an official couple..."
"There were?!" Lizzie exclaimed, looking stricken..."
"I was one of the winners, but I had inside information..." Miranda told her.
"Uh..." Lizzie chirped, then turned and looked at her mom.
"I was off by two days..."
"My own mother..." Lizzie noted in mock despair.
Jo McGuire just shook her head, and smiled affectionately at the group of teens, all of whom she had known since they were infants. "And, sweetie, everyone's right...you've got your routine down pat, you've done it eighteen or twenty times..."
"Twenty-three.." Gordo noted. "I counted..." He then turned and all but whispered 'And you, McGuire, must be about beat..." Lizzie just nodded, for just a second looking as tired as she was. "You need to rest, Liz..."
"He's right sweetie, it won't do you a bit of good if you're too tired to do the routine...in fact...it's a school night, and it's almost..." She glanced at the digital clocks on the VCR and digital cable box. "No, a little after ten thirty..."
"Whoa..." Miranda exclaimed. "..Did time get away from us or what..." She looked over at Larry. "Ok, nerd-boy..." She said affectionately. "Take your Lady home..." The two of them got up and started towards the front door, saying 'See ya Liz...good luck...'
"Hey, you two doin' the Awful Wawful tomorrow morning?" Lizzie asked them. Miranda and Larry, at least once a week, got up early and pigged out at the Waffle House on Sampson Road, just above Hillridge U's big, wooded campus.
"Yeah...you guys wanna come with us?" Lizzie and Gordo often joined them at what they now thought of as their 'Breakfast Hangout' The Digital Bean was great, but Waffle House kicked serious butt, breakfast wise. They had waffles and arguably the best hash browns on this or any other known planet.
Lizzie pulled her mouth sideways in a prettily thoughtful little smirk. "Better take a rain check this time...I'm about ready to crash right here, I might make it upstairs before I go unconscious..." She told them, finally admitting how tired she really was. "...And I plan to sleep until the last possible second in the morning.
"I gotta tweak my Science project..." Gordo noted. He had built a detailed, working cut-away model of a Los Angeles Class sub's power plant.
"That's not gonna explode, is it?" Miranda asked him, inclining an eyebrow. The Brain Project Fiasco from seventh grade had obtained, from what Matt, Melina, and Lanny said, the status of a legend.
"Fire, rescue, and the EPA will be standing by..." Lizzie told them, stifling a yawn and rubbing Gordo's shoulder as he rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"There's nothing in it that can explode..."
"A couple of those big foam rigs from the airport...and protective suits..." Tudge noted in his dryly sarcastic way as he sidestepped yet another throw pillow, thrown with near dead on accuracy by Gordo.
Need the Cherokee to get it to school?" Lizzie asked him.
No, McGuire, you've got enough on you tomorrow." Gordo noted. "I'll just drive Mom's car instead of the Camaro in the morning"
"Sure...?"
"Sure...I'll be fine..." Gordo told her, turning his head and looking at her. His heart, for an instant, seemed to swell, flutter, then dance as he gazed at his girlfriend's face. 'Do you understand just how much I love you?' Gordo thought silently as he looked into Lizzie's huge hazel eyes, at that big, beautiful smile. Her bangs were in attractive disarray, and a spray of long blond hair fanned out over her right shoulder and cascaded downward in a fall of spun gold, partially hiding her arm. 'Just how much I adore you?' Freckles were spattered cutely across her up-tilted nose in a pretty jumble that danced adorably every time she crinkled her nose. And her laugh...I, Gordo thought, would make a total idiot out of myself ten times an hour...a minute...just to make her laugh.
If Miranda and Tudge hadn't been standing there, and her mom hadn't been listening, he just might have told her all of this.
"Ok" Lizzie noted, breaking the spell. "Hey, Rand, what about your boom box...?"
"Take it with you Liz, I'll just grab it after try-outs" She replied cheerfully. Lizzie replied 'That'll work' as Miranda comedy-yanked Larry towards the door. "Come on, Larry, one of us needs his beauty sleep real bad..."
"Me..." Larry asked, pointing at himself and receiving a lighthearted slap on the shoulder from a grinning Miranda.
"Thanks Mrs. M..." Larry told Jo McGuire as they headed for the door. "Beautiful Maidens, Pizza, entertainment, Pizza...what more can I ask for."
"Yeah..." Miranda shot her boyfriend another of her huge arsenal of comedic grimaces. "Thanks Mrs. McGuire...Ignore him...I usually do..."
Anytime..." Jo looked at the near monsoon still in progress outside. "And you guys be careful going home..."
"We will...see ya tomorrow, Lizzie!"
Gordo got up and walked into the unfinished Florida Room, followed by Lizzie. He quickly demounted the video camera from its tripod, handed the camera to Lizzie, then began folding the tripod as Lizzie put the camera into its case. Above them, rain hammered out a freight train rumble on the Florida room's plastic skylights... The back yard was a study in modern art, distorted by streaks of rain and soft-focused by the misted window walls.
"Man..." Lizzie exclaimed, looking up towards the ceiling. "It's really comin' down out there!"
"Really..." Gordo agreed, following her gaze. He took the camera case as Lizzie said 'Thanks again, Gordo', to be answered with 'Like you even have to ask me to do anything.'
Lizzie smiled demurely, then looked at her boyfriend as they walked towards the front door, Gordo telling Lizzie's mom 'Outa here, Mrs. McGuire.
"You be careful, too, Gordo..."
Gordo acknowledged her with a 'will do' as he and Lizzie walked out onto the McGuire front porch. The wind was coming at an angle from behind the big colonial dwelling, affording them a little bit of protection. Still, Lizzie, wearing only shorts and 'T' shirt, hugged herself against the damp chill. Gordo put the camera case down and put his right arm around her tightly, looking over and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She turned towards him and kissed him on the lips. Suddenly, it wasn't quite as chilly as it had been.
He almost told her again...actually turned, put the tripod down to join the camera case, then cupped her shoulders with his hands, saying 'Hey Liz...'
"What, Gordo?" Lizzie asked a smile both on her face and in her voice.
"Listen..."
Tires slashed against wet pavement and splooshed through the raging torrent running through the gutter as Sam McGuire's silver Volvo Cross Country swung into the driveway, killing the moment. The two of them turned and watched as Sam McGuire pulled up next to Lizzie's Jeep Cherokee and behind Jo McGuire's Mercedes SUV. The Volvo's doors burst open and two forms ran for the door, splooshing through puddles.
Gordo reached down and retrieved his equipment as Matt yelled 'Call the Coast guard, and open the door!!!'
Gordo and Lizzie backed apart, Lizzie shaking her head at her brother and father as she twisted the knob and pushed the front door open. Matt shot between them and inside without even bothering to come up with an appropriate insult, Sam just said 'Whoa!', then turned and looked at Gordo, saying 'Gordo, be careful, buddy, water's all the way across the road there at HolyOak and Valewood.
"Thanks Mr. McGuire, I'll watch it..." He looked at Lizzie. "See ya tomorrow McGuire..." He said the two of them touched hands, interlacing their fingers for a second or so as Lizzie mouthed the words 'Be careful' to him. He said 'I will', then turned and made a somewhat less than romantic exit as he bailed towards the blue Z-28 parked at the curb.
"Don't get wet, Gordo!" She called after him, giggling at his 'Too late!"
She and her Dad walked back inside, Lizzie thinking 'Thanks guys' sarcastically. My brother and father, I think, just managed to interrupt the one guy I love more than anything as he was, I believe, about to say three little words that would have had me floating at tryouts tomorrow. Nice job...and ya did it without even trying.
I'm gonna call it a night guys..." Lizzie called to her parents and brother, getting 'Night, honey' from Sam and Jo, and 'Isn't standing outside in the middle of a rain storm a sign of some serious mental defect?' from Matt.
"We were being ..." Lizzie stopped on the steps, holding the stair rail, looking upward, smiling, and sighing at length. "Romantic..."
"'Drowned rat' is Romantic?" She heard Matt ask sarcastically, to be met by Jo's 'Matt...' but Lizzie ignored it. She was too busy thinking 'He almost said it...my Gordo almost told me he loves me...' She grinned, mugging happily as a little squeal escaped. Then she turned and almost floated up the steps to her room.
It would be a long time before any of them were as happy as they had been that night.