Gordo stared out his bedroom window, which faced the backyard. His house was adjacent to Greenridge Park, and even though technically you were supposed to go to the front gate, he could've just jumped the fence if he wanted to.

Last night, even, he had a dream–more like a fantasy–in which he hopped the fence and ran like a madman through a thick forest before reaching the lake. And next to the lake was a bench, and on it sat Lizzie, wearing a beautiful smile, lit up by the sun beating down on the treeless area of the park. And his breathless self ran over to her, and kissed her gently.

Granted, Greenridge Park didn't have thick forests, lakes–heck, if it wasn't for some generous benefactors, it probably wouldn't even have benches. But Gordo loved his overly romanticized view of the park, and his stupid fantasy, too, even though it would never even come close to happening.

It wouldn't come true because Lizzie wasn't just any girl. She was the type of girl he wished he had in his life–until he realized he already did.

~~~~~~~~~~

Gordo woke up the next morning, Tuesday morning, refreshed, ready to fend off any craziness that chose to cross his path. It was that rare, renewed feeling as though the stress had been flushed from his system.

He approached Lizzie at her locker with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. He was so happy, and the sight of Lizzie only made his smile wider.

"Wow," she said as she took a book out of her locker. "You are really weird."

"No," he shook his head. "Just happy."

"To-may-to, to-mah-to," she reasoned, smiling, too.

At that second, Gordo noticed Carly walking down the hall by herself in his direction. She had her books hugged to her chest and was shifting her eyes frightfully, like a child separated from her parents in a large crowd.

"You really like her, don't you?" Lizzie asked when she noticed Gordo's staring, startling him out of his trance.

"Well, that depends entirely on what kind of like' we're talking about here." I'm wary of the evil, ambiguous word like'. It was usually used by Miranda to me about Lizzie. I'd been fooled many a time by that cruel, confusing word. It meant a world of difference, the difference between liking someone and liking someone, and the emphasis was what made it. Not to mention, talking about liking anyone with the girl he kind of liked was a little awkward.

"I'm not saying anything," she smirked. He just shook his head at her.

As Carly was about to pass Gordo without a word, he grabbed her arm as gently as possible. She turned to him as if she had been expecting it the whole time.

"What do you want?" she said with a roll of her eyes.

"I need to talk to you."

"Um, I'll be leaving now, so you two can uhdo your thing," Lizzie muttered as she slipped off down the hall unconspicuously.

"I'm telling you Zephyr, she's got JGS–Jealous Girlfriend Syndrome," Carly laughed with her infamous blatant smirk playing across her lips.

"No, she doesn't," Gordo said boldly and firmly. "She's my best friend, but I can see why you'd have no concept of that idea." His own audacity surprised him.

"Well," she huffed, "and I suppose you think you're Mr. Sensitive personified." She sneered. "Am I rightGordo?" She said his name with such scorn, leaving claw marks on his heart. She shook her head in disbelief as she sputtered, "I'm out of here," and walked away.

And there he was left, battered, torn, confused

Wait, hadn't he come to talk to her to apologize?!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lunch rolled around, and the only person Gordo even remotely wanted to talk to was Lizzie McGuire herself.

He set down his tray at the seat next to Lizzie and groaned.

"You know what? I give up on girl friends. They're nothing but trouble." He turned to Lizzie, realizing who he was talking to. "I mean, except you ,of course."

"Much better," she said, patting him on the head.

"Miranda and Carlythey both hate me. Am I absolutely hateable?" he asked in all seriousness. "Be honest with me, Lizziedo you really hate my guts and wish for my demise? It can be arranged, since it seems no one else really likes me, I mean, why am I here in the first place? Everyone's just pretending, everyone's faking it, no one tells the tru---"

"GORDO!" Lizzie yelled, silencing the people at the tables around them, and oddly, she didn't get embarrassed or turn red "Get a hold of yourself. I don't hate you now, nor will I ever." She smiled that innocent smile. "You forget sometimesyou're my best friend as much as I'm your best friend."

"Yeah, I guessthat's true" he said as he inhaled a shaky breath. "Right now, I just need you to be really blunt with me. That's all. Now" He made eye contact to make sure she was paying attention. "Do you think I screwed up royallyyou know, with Miranda?"

"Royally? No, no way, definitely not royally. More plebeian." She started laughing, and he came close to choking her. "I'm just joking, man!" She put on a straight face. "You didn't screw up that bad. Things still have a chance at being resolved. And on the plus side, it's Miranda! She always bounces back, especially with you."

"And Carly?" he asked, noticing that this conversation was almost exactly like the one he'd had with Kim on the bus yesterdayminus the Lizzie advice.

"I" She struggled for an answer. "Idon't know her well enough to say, but she seemedpretty nicewhen I met her, so I guess you guys could work things out if you really tried. And if you really think you still want to be friends with herI mean, she said some rude stuff to you this morning." He stared at her angrily. "Sorry, I couldn't help watching in."

"Since you heard what I saidbe sincere. Did you think what I said was kind ofmean?" he gulped.

"I-I guess you could call it that." She grimaced.

"Sincerity, Lizzie. Sincerity."

He paused to sigh for a second before responding.

"Beyond mean," she said, almost regretting it before it escaped her mouth. He looked down, disappointed with himself. Even Lizzie thinks what I said was mean. I am just a screw-up, like one big disaster area. What's wrong with me? "Gordo, you said to be sincere. Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you." He groaned. "I'm mad at myself."

----------------------------------

[A/N: Poor Gordyboy. I still love youuuu, Gordo. Okay, soy un perdedor. I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?

I took the SATs today. Computerized ones, so I got my scores right away. I got a 1200. 590 in Math and 610 in Verbal.

For one of the sections for comprehension, there was this big article about short stories and writers and such, and it read, "Beginners won't sit still long enough to write a novel." I completely disagree. It also talked about how many places there were to publish short fiction nowadays (true) and how people just didn't want to read short stories (FALSE!).

Interesting stuff.

I shall be off now. Only 8 more days until "The Lizzie McGuire Movie" and I won't be posting any major story (TGHJHR and this one, TTATODZG) chapters until after May 2. So rock on, I love you all.

Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]