Things I'll Never Say
A/N: Again, I'm keeping my promise of updating quicker! Go me! AND this chapter is longer than all the others, so be proud of me. I got a lot accomplished today.
Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann.
Chapter Ten:
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The incessant ringing of my alarm clock woke me up bright and early that Monday morning. I groaned as I rolled over onto my side in an attempt to avoid the bright sunlight that was flooding in through my shades, which Mom had undoubtedly raised when she first got up that morning. It seemed like the night had just flown by and I most definitely hadn't gotten my required eight hours of sleep; it was more like four due to the many thoughts plaguing my head, and I was barely functioning. I knew Mom would be in my room in less than a minute to pull me away from the warmth of my bed, so I closed my eyes and tried to savour the last few moments of precious sleep as I counted down to her arrival . . . 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 . . .
Just on time, my bedroom door flew open and Mom stepped inside. She was wearing a bright, cheerful smile. "Morning, Lizzie!" she said. "Time to get up."
I groaned again and buried my face into my pillow to avoid Mom. Mornings were not my thing and it always seemed that Mom enjoyed making me wake up from my deep slumber, especially on mornings that I wanted nothing more than to spend just five more minutes being surrounded by the warmth of my bed. This morning was one of those because of my lack of sleep during the night, but I knew Mom was going to have none of it.
I felt a rush of cool air hit my bare legs as Mom pulled the covers from my body and tossed them to the floor. "Get up, Lizzie," she said again, her voice taking on the warning tone it got when she meant business.
Still groaning, I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. A flood of sunlight hit me directly in my eyes and I struggled to keep them open. I stuck my feet into my fuzzy black slippers. As I walked over to my chest of drawers, which was beside of the door, Mom followed close behind me and watched as I dug to find my favorite nude-colored bra and hot pink panties. When I found them, I walked to my closet to pick out my outfit for the day.
As I did all of this, Mom asked, "Do you have play practice after school, Lizzie?"
I thought for a moment. It was Monday . . . we usually had practice on Mondays, didn't we? I wasn't entirely sure because I had never really kept track. After thinking for a few more minutes, I came up with my answer. "Yeah, I do. Opening night is next Saturday, so Mrs. Baxter is really pushing to get us ready."
Mom nodded. "Just making sure. Matt left to go to school early with Melina so they could put the finishing touches on their project; I'll call up to the school later to tell them to send Matt a message that he needs to get a ride home with her, too."
"Thanks." I smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to take a shower. If Miranda gets here before I'm out, tell her I'll be ready in like five minutes."
"All right," Mom agreed. "Hurry up, though; you're running late." I heard the door close and knew she was gone.
It didn't take me much longer to pick out a pair of straight-legged jeans that I had cut an upwards slit in at the bottom in order to make them not straight-legged and a plain pale blue tank top that I had found on sale at the mall last week. When I had my clothes and underwear, I walked to my bathroom and stopped at the cabinet just inside the door to get two towels and a washcloth. I started the water and let it run for a few minutes before stepping into the shower. The water was just shy of hot, the way I liked it, and felt good as it ran down my body. After I washed myself with my Caress shower gel and washed my hair, I shut off the water then climbed out, wrapping one of my towels around my body. I used the other to dry my hair, and then got dressed rather quickly. I blow-dried my hair, applied my usual make-up (concealer, no-shine powder, a little bit of blush, a thin coat of eyeliner on the top and bottom, and a slightly pink-tinted lip gloss), and brushed my teeth, then I exited the bathroom and slipped my feet into my comfortable white canvas slip-on shoes. After getting my books and my black shoulder bag that served as my purse, I walked out of my room and shut the door behind me.
When I walked into the kitchen, Mom was pouring milk into a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. He looked up when I entered and smiled briefly at me, said, "Morning, Lizzie," and then went back to whatever he was reading in the paper. I took a seat at the island and Mom placed the bowl of cereal in front of me. Just as I was about to take a bite, a horn honked from outside and without having to even think about it, I knew it was Miranda. With a last look in the general direction of my cereal, I sighed, bade goodbye to my parents, and joined Miranda in her car.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Why don't you just talk to him about it?" Miranda questioned. It was during our "independent study" class that Miranda and I had decided to head to the mall to buy strawberry smoothies, and we were seated at a small table in the center of the food court. I had just explained the ordeal with Gordo, including what had happened while we were on the Internet the night before. "I mean, you like him, he likes you, he's probably having just as many issues right now as you are and things will never get solved if you don't talk them through."
Miranda had a point, but I didn't want to admit it. "He doesn't like me though! We've been through this a hundred times."
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, you are driving me absolutely bonkers with this whole thing! I am so glad I was not here to witness your encounters with Gordo in junior high, because I probably would have pushed both of you off the nearest bridge! Talk to him, it's not that hard of a concept." She punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp of her smoothie.
I groaned and twirled the straw around in my smoothie before taking a small drink. It felt good in my throat. "He was fine the other day, and then after that he started ignoring me. I don't know what I did."
Miranda looked deep in thought and she scrunched her eyebrows together as she concentrated. "Okay, when did he start acting weird?"
"Like Thursday or Friday . . ." I wasn't seeing where Miranda was going with this, mostly because I had already back tracked to see if I had done anything to piss Gordo off; I hadn't.
After a very long pause, Miranda let out a small noise. "What?" I demanded anxiously, leaning over the table to get closer to her. "Did I do something?"
She looked uneasy for a second. "I feel like this is all my fault . . ." she stated, letting her voice trail off. Before I could say anything else, Miranda continued, "I think I might have figured out what the problem is, but I don't want to say anything in case I'm wrong. Just talk to him about it and clear everything up, and I'm sure everything will work out! If it's meant to be, it will."
I sighed. Miranda was making absolutely no sense--not that she usually did, but it was worse than normal. She was being cryptic with her messages, and I hated that. "Miranda, just tell me. Please?"
She looked conflicted as she bit her lip. Letting out a small breath of air, Miranda replied, "I really want to, but I don't want to say anything that's not true. I mean, what I am thinking is purely speculation. Talk to him."
I was getting ready to protest, but Miranda looked up from checking her watch and announced, "Oops, ten minutes until block three starts! We better get going!"
Reluctantly, I followed her out of the mall, trashing the remainder of my smoothie in the trashcan by the front door.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Later that afternoon, after the final bell rang, Miranda stood by me at my locker as I got the things I would need to take home with me. Since she didn't have much homework and Dustin had to work, Miranda had decided to tag along to play practice to see how it was coming along; it had been a while since she had dropped by. I was kind of suspicious that she had a hidden motive: making sure that I talked to Gordo. She seemed hell bent on getting us to work out whatever had happened between us. In fact, she seemed to be more concerned than I was!
"Are you ready?" I asked as I shut my locker door. When Miranda nodded her affirmation, I grinned and headed for the auditorium, which was on the opposite end of the hallway. Once we reached it, I noticed that there were already several cast members inside, rehearsing their lines. From what I could see, everyone seemed to have most of their lines memorized and seemed to be pretty comfortable with their parts . . . everyone except for Kate, that is, who was still sulking about me not being willing to give her the part of Satine.
Miranda nudged me in the side with her elbow and then pointed to the back of the auditorium. "There's Gordo," she whispered in my ear. She gave me a little push and I shot her the most hateful look I could muster.
"He hasn't attempted to talk to me, so why should I attempt to talk to him?" I asked stubbornly, crossing my arms.
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, I didn't want to say this, but do you even realize how childish you are being about this whole thing?" she asked, pushing me again. "Go."
I sighed. At that point, I realized that there was no way that Miranda was going to relent; that just wasn't her nature. I wanted to reconcile with Gordo, too. I bit my lip and, mustering up all the courage I possibly could, I walked across the room to Gordo, who was sitting with Shawn Dotson and Ethan Craft, who played the part of the Duke. I stopped short and looked over my shoulder at Miranda, who began to make a shoo-ing motion with her hands. I took another deep breath and continued on my way to their seats.
"Um, Gordo?" I asked, unsure of what to say to him. He looked up at me and I was shocked to see the anger in his usually indifferent brown eyes. Whatever I had done, it had either pissed him off, hurt him, or both. Hesitantly, I continued, "Can I talk to you?"
He was silent. I looked down at my hands for a moment, and then looked back up at him again. "Please? It's important," I added. I was disgusted with how my voice was making me sound like I was begging him to talk to me.
There was a pause that seemed to last for an eternity, and then Gordo nodded. "I guess," he mumbled, standing up and stepping over Shawn's legs. "I'll be back in a minute, guys." Then he walked to the very back of the auditorium, stepping through a set of double doors that lead into a small lobby. I breathed a sigh of relief and followed him.
Gordo stopped at the doors and looked out. There were still some kids running around outside, waiting for their buses to come, since school had just ended. I walked up behind him and prepared to reach out to touch his arm, but he whirled around and faced me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Just tell me what you want to talk about and get it over with," Gordo said, his voice cold.
I couldn't do anything but stare at him for a moment. "I want to know what your problem is!" I snapped, taking a step back. "You've been acting like such a jerk and I don't know what I did to deserve it!"
Gordo opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then he closed it again. After a second, he returned, "I've been acting like a jerk? You're the one who blew me off so you could go out on a date with some random guy!"
"Is that what this is about?" I asked, incredulous. "My date with Andrew? Gordo--Miranda asked me to go out with him because she promised Dustin she would find Andrew a date. Dustin and Andrew are cousins. We're just friends."
"Yeah? So I guess that lovely kiss that I witnessed was just between friends?" He rolled his eyes. "Lizzie, I don't want to talk about this anymore." With that, Gordo began to head back for the auditorium.
I caught his arm and stopped him from walking away. "There is no way in hell that I am letting you walk through that door. You will stay in here and we will talk about this." I took his silence as permission to continue. "And how did you know he kissed me? How did you know I went on a date with him? Have you been spying on me?" I demanded, feeling my eyes widen.
"I just--saw it, that's all," Gordo replied, sounding unsure of himself. "And since the Lizzie I know doesn't just grab random guys out of fancy restaurants and attach herself to him, I concluded that you were on a date. The point is, you blew me off for Andrew when we already had a study date made prior!" He spat out Andrew's name as if it were venemous.
I stared for a minute. Thousands of thoughts were flitting through my head. "Why are you making such a huge issue out of this? What's it to you who I date?" My question was pointed and I knew what the answer I wanted to hear was.
"It's just--" He stopped. "Lizzie, let's not go there."
I stepped closer to him and looked directly in his eyes. "What is it, Gordo?" I asked again.
His breathing seemed to become more labored the longer we stood there. My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited in anticipation for his answer. The time seemed to be ticking by extra-slowly, and Gordo seemed to be taking his time with his answer. After another agonizing moment, I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. I could feel the warm tears forming in my eyes and it took all I had not to let them flood down my cheeks. I couldn't let him see me cry.
Just as I was about to turn and walk away, Gordo's answer came, in a strangled voice. "You're my best friend, Lizzie, and I just worry about you."
It was like someone had just stabbed me in the heart with a rusted dagger. All the hope of him feeling the same way about me that I felt about him deflated with his statement. His best friend . . . that's all I'll ever be to him. Putting on my usual happy exterior, I forced a smile onto my face. "Oh, all right. You're my best friend, too. Thanks for caring." Even to my ears, the words sounded false, but I hoped that sounded genuine to Gordo. There was a short pause and I looked to the doors. Through a crack I could see Mrs. Baxter talking to the other cast members so I turned to Gordo and said, "We should get back there."
"Yeah."
Together, Gordo and I walked back into the main auditorium. Mrs. Baxter looked up and smiled at us. "Good! Satine, Christian, let's start at the beginning of the last scene!"
A/N: I think there are some continuity issues with time in this fic, lol, but it'll be okay, I think! This chapter is longer than normal and kind of makes up for the shorter chapters that I have been dealing out, huh? *g* Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne; Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
The incessant ringing of my alarm clock woke me up bright and early that Monday morning. I groaned as I rolled over onto my side in an attempt to avoid the bright sunlight that was flooding in through my shades, which Mom had undoubtedly raised when she first got up that morning. It seemed like the night had just flown by and I most definitely hadn't gotten my required eight hours of sleep; it was more like four due to the many thoughts plaguing my head, and I was barely functioning. I knew Mom would be in my room in less than a minute to pull me away from the warmth of my bed, so I closed my eyes and tried to savour the last few moments of precious sleep as I counted down to her arrival . . . 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 . . .
Just on time, my bedroom door flew open and Mom stepped inside. She was wearing a bright, cheerful smile. "Morning, Lizzie!" she said. "Time to get up."
I groaned again and buried my face into my pillow to avoid Mom. Mornings were not my thing and it always seemed that Mom enjoyed making me wake up from my deep slumber, especially on mornings that I wanted nothing more than to spend just five more minutes being surrounded by the warmth of my bed. This morning was one of those because of my lack of sleep during the night, but I knew Mom was going to have none of it.
I felt a rush of cool air hit my bare legs as Mom pulled the covers from my body and tossed them to the floor. "Get up, Lizzie," she said again, her voice taking on the warning tone it got when she meant business.
Still groaning, I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. A flood of sunlight hit me directly in my eyes and I struggled to keep them open. I stuck my feet into my fuzzy black slippers. As I walked over to my chest of drawers, which was beside of the door, Mom followed close behind me and watched as I dug to find my favorite nude-colored bra and hot pink panties. When I found them, I walked to my closet to pick out my outfit for the day.
As I did all of this, Mom asked, "Do you have play practice after school, Lizzie?"
I thought for a moment. It was Monday . . . we usually had practice on Mondays, didn't we? I wasn't entirely sure because I had never really kept track. After thinking for a few more minutes, I came up with my answer. "Yeah, I do. Opening night is next Saturday, so Mrs. Baxter is really pushing to get us ready."
Mom nodded. "Just making sure. Matt left to go to school early with Melina so they could put the finishing touches on their project; I'll call up to the school later to tell them to send Matt a message that he needs to get a ride home with her, too."
"Thanks." I smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to take a shower. If Miranda gets here before I'm out, tell her I'll be ready in like five minutes."
"All right," Mom agreed. "Hurry up, though; you're running late." I heard the door close and knew she was gone.
It didn't take me much longer to pick out a pair of straight-legged jeans that I had cut an upwards slit in at the bottom in order to make them not straight-legged and a plain pale blue tank top that I had found on sale at the mall last week. When I had my clothes and underwear, I walked to my bathroom and stopped at the cabinet just inside the door to get two towels and a washcloth. I started the water and let it run for a few minutes before stepping into the shower. The water was just shy of hot, the way I liked it, and felt good as it ran down my body. After I washed myself with my Caress shower gel and washed my hair, I shut off the water then climbed out, wrapping one of my towels around my body. I used the other to dry my hair, and then got dressed rather quickly. I blow-dried my hair, applied my usual make-up (concealer, no-shine powder, a little bit of blush, a thin coat of eyeliner on the top and bottom, and a slightly pink-tinted lip gloss), and brushed my teeth, then I exited the bathroom and slipped my feet into my comfortable white canvas slip-on shoes. After getting my books and my black shoulder bag that served as my purse, I walked out of my room and shut the door behind me.
When I walked into the kitchen, Mom was pouring milk into a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Dad was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. He looked up when I entered and smiled briefly at me, said, "Morning, Lizzie," and then went back to whatever he was reading in the paper. I took a seat at the island and Mom placed the bowl of cereal in front of me. Just as I was about to take a bite, a horn honked from outside and without having to even think about it, I knew it was Miranda. With a last look in the general direction of my cereal, I sighed, bade goodbye to my parents, and joined Miranda in her car.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Why don't you just talk to him about it?" Miranda questioned. It was during our "independent study" class that Miranda and I had decided to head to the mall to buy strawberry smoothies, and we were seated at a small table in the center of the food court. I had just explained the ordeal with Gordo, including what had happened while we were on the Internet the night before. "I mean, you like him, he likes you, he's probably having just as many issues right now as you are and things will never get solved if you don't talk them through."
Miranda had a point, but I didn't want to admit it. "He doesn't like me though! We've been through this a hundred times."
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, you are driving me absolutely bonkers with this whole thing! I am so glad I was not here to witness your encounters with Gordo in junior high, because I probably would have pushed both of you off the nearest bridge! Talk to him, it's not that hard of a concept." She punctuated her sentence with a loud slurp of her smoothie.
I groaned and twirled the straw around in my smoothie before taking a small drink. It felt good in my throat. "He was fine the other day, and then after that he started ignoring me. I don't know what I did."
Miranda looked deep in thought and she scrunched her eyebrows together as she concentrated. "Okay, when did he start acting weird?"
"Like Thursday or Friday . . ." I wasn't seeing where Miranda was going with this, mostly because I had already back tracked to see if I had done anything to piss Gordo off; I hadn't.
After a very long pause, Miranda let out a small noise. "What?" I demanded anxiously, leaning over the table to get closer to her. "Did I do something?"
She looked uneasy for a second. "I feel like this is all my fault . . ." she stated, letting her voice trail off. Before I could say anything else, Miranda continued, "I think I might have figured out what the problem is, but I don't want to say anything in case I'm wrong. Just talk to him about it and clear everything up, and I'm sure everything will work out! If it's meant to be, it will."
I sighed. Miranda was making absolutely no sense--not that she usually did, but it was worse than normal. She was being cryptic with her messages, and I hated that. "Miranda, just tell me. Please?"
She looked conflicted as she bit her lip. Letting out a small breath of air, Miranda replied, "I really want to, but I don't want to say anything that's not true. I mean, what I am thinking is purely speculation. Talk to him."
I was getting ready to protest, but Miranda looked up from checking her watch and announced, "Oops, ten minutes until block three starts! We better get going!"
Reluctantly, I followed her out of the mall, trashing the remainder of my smoothie in the trashcan by the front door.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Later that afternoon, after the final bell rang, Miranda stood by me at my locker as I got the things I would need to take home with me. Since she didn't have much homework and Dustin had to work, Miranda had decided to tag along to play practice to see how it was coming along; it had been a while since she had dropped by. I was kind of suspicious that she had a hidden motive: making sure that I talked to Gordo. She seemed hell bent on getting us to work out whatever had happened between us. In fact, she seemed to be more concerned than I was!
"Are you ready?" I asked as I shut my locker door. When Miranda nodded her affirmation, I grinned and headed for the auditorium, which was on the opposite end of the hallway. Once we reached it, I noticed that there were already several cast members inside, rehearsing their lines. From what I could see, everyone seemed to have most of their lines memorized and seemed to be pretty comfortable with their parts . . . everyone except for Kate, that is, who was still sulking about me not being willing to give her the part of Satine.
Miranda nudged me in the side with her elbow and then pointed to the back of the auditorium. "There's Gordo," she whispered in my ear. She gave me a little push and I shot her the most hateful look I could muster.
"He hasn't attempted to talk to me, so why should I attempt to talk to him?" I asked stubbornly, crossing my arms.
She rolled her eyes. "Lizzie, I didn't want to say this, but do you even realize how childish you are being about this whole thing?" she asked, pushing me again. "Go."
I sighed. At that point, I realized that there was no way that Miranda was going to relent; that just wasn't her nature. I wanted to reconcile with Gordo, too. I bit my lip and, mustering up all the courage I possibly could, I walked across the room to Gordo, who was sitting with Shawn Dotson and Ethan Craft, who played the part of the Duke. I stopped short and looked over my shoulder at Miranda, who began to make a shoo-ing motion with her hands. I took another deep breath and continued on my way to their seats.
"Um, Gordo?" I asked, unsure of what to say to him. He looked up at me and I was shocked to see the anger in his usually indifferent brown eyes. Whatever I had done, it had either pissed him off, hurt him, or both. Hesitantly, I continued, "Can I talk to you?"
He was silent. I looked down at my hands for a moment, and then looked back up at him again. "Please? It's important," I added. I was disgusted with how my voice was making me sound like I was begging him to talk to me.
There was a pause that seemed to last for an eternity, and then Gordo nodded. "I guess," he mumbled, standing up and stepping over Shawn's legs. "I'll be back in a minute, guys." Then he walked to the very back of the auditorium, stepping through a set of double doors that lead into a small lobby. I breathed a sigh of relief and followed him.
Gordo stopped at the doors and looked out. There were still some kids running around outside, waiting for their buses to come, since school had just ended. I walked up behind him and prepared to reach out to touch his arm, but he whirled around and faced me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Just tell me what you want to talk about and get it over with," Gordo said, his voice cold.
I couldn't do anything but stare at him for a moment. "I want to know what your problem is!" I snapped, taking a step back. "You've been acting like such a jerk and I don't know what I did to deserve it!"
Gordo opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then he closed it again. After a second, he returned, "I've been acting like a jerk? You're the one who blew me off so you could go out on a date with some random guy!"
"Is that what this is about?" I asked, incredulous. "My date with Andrew? Gordo--Miranda asked me to go out with him because she promised Dustin she would find Andrew a date. Dustin and Andrew are cousins. We're just friends."
"Yeah? So I guess that lovely kiss that I witnessed was just between friends?" He rolled his eyes. "Lizzie, I don't want to talk about this anymore." With that, Gordo began to head back for the auditorium.
I caught his arm and stopped him from walking away. "There is no way in hell that I am letting you walk through that door. You will stay in here and we will talk about this." I took his silence as permission to continue. "And how did you know he kissed me? How did you know I went on a date with him? Have you been spying on me?" I demanded, feeling my eyes widen.
"I just--saw it, that's all," Gordo replied, sounding unsure of himself. "And since the Lizzie I know doesn't just grab random guys out of fancy restaurants and attach herself to him, I concluded that you were on a date. The point is, you blew me off for Andrew when we already had a study date made prior!" He spat out Andrew's name as if it were venemous.
I stared for a minute. Thousands of thoughts were flitting through my head. "Why are you making such a huge issue out of this? What's it to you who I date?" My question was pointed and I knew what the answer I wanted to hear was.
"It's just--" He stopped. "Lizzie, let's not go there."
I stepped closer to him and looked directly in his eyes. "What is it, Gordo?" I asked again.
His breathing seemed to become more labored the longer we stood there. My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited in anticipation for his answer. The time seemed to be ticking by extra-slowly, and Gordo seemed to be taking his time with his answer. After another agonizing moment, I closed my eyes and willed myself not to cry. I could feel the warm tears forming in my eyes and it took all I had not to let them flood down my cheeks. I couldn't let him see me cry.
Just as I was about to turn and walk away, Gordo's answer came, in a strangled voice. "You're my best friend, Lizzie, and I just worry about you."
It was like someone had just stabbed me in the heart with a rusted dagger. All the hope of him feeling the same way about me that I felt about him deflated with his statement. His best friend . . . that's all I'll ever be to him. Putting on my usual happy exterior, I forced a smile onto my face. "Oh, all right. You're my best friend, too. Thanks for caring." Even to my ears, the words sounded false, but I hoped that sounded genuine to Gordo. There was a short pause and I looked to the doors. Through a crack I could see Mrs. Baxter talking to the other cast members so I turned to Gordo and said, "We should get back there."
"Yeah."
Together, Gordo and I walked back into the main auditorium. Mrs. Baxter looked up and smiled at us. "Good! Satine, Christian, let's start at the beginning of the last scene!"