Gordo inhaled deeply. Peaches.

Lizzie had insisted that he stopped at her locker for a second while she got her books, and they were almost late for 1st period. He sat down first, and the closest seat was the one in front of him. She sat herself down in front of him, and the class began.

Here Gordo was, his first period, of his first day of the first year of high school, and he already wasn't paying attention. He was distracted by Lizzie's sweet, peachy aroma. Her shampoo, maybe? He didn't care. He was mesmerized. Gordo wasn't one for daydreaming in class, but he couldn't help it. He hadn't even caught the teacher's name yet. Mr. Spooler? Mr. Speller? Mr. Spaller? Something like that.

He finally awoke when the classroom door opened. A tall, handsome boy paraded in, like he owned the place. He smiled at people, presumably people he had known. A slip of paper was passed to the teacher from the boy. He sauntered over to last available desk--the one right next to Lizzie. Augh, why didn't I take THAT seat? I could be next to Lizzie, andwhat's he doing?

The kid was already chatting away with her, and she was loving every minute of it. Gordo had always been sort of, overprotective of Lizzie. He'd always try to convince himself that it was because he was a friend, and he cared. But there was so much more to it than that. It was starting to get on his nerves, how she was paying no attention to her. They kept talking, and talking, and rarely stopped until the teacher finally noticed.

"Miss McGuire? Mr. Craft? Have something you'd like to share with the class?"

MR. CRAFT?! As in, ETHAN CRAFT? No, that's not possible. You've just ruined my day, Ethan. No, my year. You've ruined my year. Are you happy now? Are you? ARE YOU?

"No, sir," Lizzie replied timidly. The line between reality and his own thoughts was blurred, and he almost thought that Lizzie was talking to him. To his thoughts. Maybe he had said it aloud, and not realized?

"Don't let it happen again." Mr. Spaller said, and returned to his lecture on the history of literature. Oh. She was talkingto him.

Gordo stared around the room. Others were equally fed up with this monotonous junk, but they continued to take notes anyway. He let his mind drift away once again

I f I've asked it once, I've asked it a million times. What's so great about Ethan Craft? "Umm, hello, Gordo? He's hot!", they'd always say. But am I really that horrid-looking? Do I have a monstrous, hairy mole on my forehead that I've never noticed before? Miranda at least occasionally mentions how I'm not the worst possible choice in the grade, but Lizzie can't even take a damn second out of the day to tell me I'm okay, and to listen to what I have to say. How many times have I helped her with her problems? How many times have I told her that she is pretty, and nice, and cool? She can be so self-centered and obnoxious sometimes. As far as friends go, I love her to death. But even I'm not sure that a relationship between us would work out. I don't think she'll ever care that much for me. Because I'm just "Gordo", right? "Just Gordo". That's me.

The bell rang, and the students all piled out the door to head to 2nd period. Gordo read his schedule. Chemistry. Oh boy.

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[A/N: Oh, a twist! How pleasant. I don't even know what I'm doing with this story. I go with the flow, as usual. I have a feeling that I'm.nevermind. Let's just say this story will go on for a while, heh heh heh. Sorry for the extremely short chapters. I happen to like things "short". Ha, ha. Sorry, that's a personal reference. I love writing this story, so the next chapter should be up within the next5 days? At the most, 5 days. Please review, thanks.]