LIZZIE

Around 10:00 I started to get uneasy. People were starting to fist-fight. I could smell beer on most people's breaths. Girls and guys started seeking private places, and I worried that some drunk guy was going to put his hands on me. I treated everyone as if they were infected with a very contagious, very deadly virus and kept my distance.

I wandered through the halls of Trey's house. It was huge. When Gordo and I had first walked in, I didn't realize how big it was until I'd actually started to wander. I wondered what his parents did for a living to be able to buy a house so big that guests got lost in it. I was trying to find Gordo to ask him if we could leave, but I couldn't find my way back downstairs.

Finally, I found the stairs. I went downstairs to where the movies were playing. Since it was dark, I half-expected to find people making out, but to my relief, everyone was watching attentively (save a couple people in back).

I walked over to Gordo and tapped him on the shoulder. "Can we talk?" I whispered, fearing what would happen if I interrupted the movie with all of these drunk people.

He nodded and we went upstairs. "What's up?"

"I want to go," I said instantly.

"You do? You aren't having fun?"

"No. I'm totally paranoid. Everyone here is, well… strange."

"Watch a movie with us, then."

"What are you watching?"

"Billy Madison just ended, we're gonna put in something else."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. You seem tense."

"OK, truth be told, I'm scared."

Gordo smirked. "Scared? Of what?"

"These people. Most of them are drunk."

"They aren't-" He paused to look around. People were stumbling, fighting, and drinking. That was about it. "OK. But we haven't had any beer downstairs, so-"

"I don't care. I want to go, Gordo. Please?"

"Look, I agree that this place is getting bad, but no one's had anything downstairs, I promise. We can just hang out there until these people sober up and we all go home."

I sighed. "But if someone calls the cops and we get caught here, we're dead. It doesn't matter if we drank or not, they'll call our parents and tell them we were at a party with beer. And guess what happens next."

Gordo nodded. "OK, I see your point. That's fine, we can leave."

"Thank you so much."

We left the house and got into the car. I felt safe in it, away from all of the people. They scared me, and now it was just me and Gordo. Just me and my friend.

"Thanks again," I said as I shut my door. "I just didn't feel comfortable there."

"No problem. I smelled a little bit of trouble there, myself."

~*~

The next morning I woke up to a knock on my door.

"Lizzie?" my mom asked.

"Yeah?" I half-asked, half-groaned. "Come in."

She opened the door and entered. "Your father and I are going down to Gordons' house to meet with them and Sanchezes. Will you be all right home with Matt?"

"Why are you going to meet with them?" I asked. "Are you having breakfast with them or something?"

"No, they're talking about suing Jared O' Brien, the drunk driver who hit you."

"We're gonna sue him?" I asked, surprised.

"No, no, Sanchezes were just wondering about it and they called us. We're just going over to Gordons' discuss it."

Personally, I was against the idea. I was mad at the guy, but it seemed a bit silly to me to sue him. The only thing I'd lost in the crash was Miranda, and no amount of money could ever bring her back.

"Well… OK. When will you be back?"

"I don't know. We might eat lunch with them afterwards, so it may be around 1 before we get home. Matt promised he'd be good."

"He did?" I demanded. Since when did Matt promise he'd be good? And for me?

"Yes. We talked to him and told him that you still aren't fully recovered and can't be running around the house, and you can't be stressed so he'd have to be good. He told us he would, but… well, anyway, have fun."

"All right. Bye, mom."

She came up to my bed and kissed me on the forehead. "Bye, sweetheart." She walked out of my room and seconds later I heard the front door shut.

I laid in bed for about 10 minutes when the phone rang. "Matt!" I called. "Get that!" The ringing stopped, and seconds later he came into my room with the cordless phone in his hand.

"It has something to do with the crash," he said quietly so that the person on the other line couldn't hear it as he handed me the phone.

I inwardly groaned. I really didn't want any sympathy calls.

"Hello?" I asked as I grabbed the phone.

"Is this Lizzie McGuire?" the voice on the other line asked.

"Yes."

"Hello, Ms. McGuire, I'm Angela Williams with Ford Motors. I was wondering if I'd be able to convince you to do an interview with one of our specialists to promote side airbags."

What? What did that have to do with the crash?

"Uh…"

"You would be able to help save lives much like Miranda Sanchez. If there would have been side airbags in the car, her head would have hit a pillow-like substance instead, and possibly wouldn't have even been unconscious, much less have… well-"

"I don't think so."

"Be sure to think about this. You would be able to save lives. You must realize this isn't something for the company, it's something for the public. For ordinary people who might happen to be in a collision."

It sounded an awful lot like a commercial to me. And all commercials did was advertise. I didn't want Miranda's death to be no more than an advertisement.

"No thank you, I'm not interested," I said in my best talking-to-people-who-never-give-up voice.

"What if a Mr. David Gordon agreed?"

Gordo had said he'd do it?

"Have you called him?"

"No, but it is on my to do list."

"I'll have to talk to him about it, thanks."

"Then you can call me back with your decision. Let me give you my number."

Once again I inwardly groaned as I got out of bed. I quickly searched my desk for a pen and some paper. "OK," I said.

She gave me her home and work phone number, the hours that she'd be at each, and repeated her name: Angela Williams.

I hung up and looked at the time. It was 10:45. I'd slept for 12 ½ hours last night!

I wondered if I should call Gordo about the offer. I decided to. I dialed his number and his mom picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Lizzie. Can I talk to Gordo?"

"Of course." There was a pause, then Gordo's voice.

"Hey, Lizzie."

"Hi. Did you get a call from Ford?"

"Ford?" he asked, confused. "Um… no."

"Well, you're gonna get one. I just got called and the lady said she was going to call you, too."

"About what?"

"They want to promote side-airbags. She said if Miranda had a side-airbag, she wouldn't have died. She wants to interview us."

"Sounds like a publicity stunt."

"That's what I thought, too."

"What did you say?"

"I said I'd talk to you. What do you say?"

"I say no."

"Good."

"Um, Lizzie? I think I'm gonna go. I kind of wanted to hear the 'rents talk about that drunk driver guy."

"OK. Just tell me something quick, do you think we should sue him? To me, it seems pointless. We'll never get Miranda back."

"I think he owes us at least the hospital bills. Well, talk to you later."

"Bye."