Only an alarm clock could make someone so miserable.
"Ugh, Mom, just five more minutes!," I groaned, hiding myself under a fluffy pink pillow. But the bell kept ringing. How inhumane!
"Duh, Lizzie," I mentally hit my forehead. "It's METAL." I let my hand creep out from under the soft covers to hit the stupid thing.
I tried to remember why I was so upset. Oh, right. My worst enemy is hurting herself and I care. This said enemy also made me out as the biggest klutz in the world yesterday. And now... it's Saturday and I have to get up. This SUCKS.
"Lizzie, you're meeting Miranda in fifteen minutes!!! Get up!," I heard a voice call. Oh, great. Now I remember why I have to wake up! Letting out a squeal as I jumped out of bed, I rushed around, looking for clothes. I pressed the PLAY button on my stereo, letting Britney's voice pour out of the small speakers. Motivation, of course.
Getting ready requires a lot of time, I have learned. Looking..presentable everyday grows harder and harder as the world turns. As someone who thinks of Seventeen magazine as the bible, I know this. It's so shallow, and yet...fun. I mean, we could all be like Gordo and care about politics and stuff like that, if we really wanted to. But there's something...exciting about the ability to change what you look like.
When I look in the mirror in the morning, before I even put on my make up, I see Lizzie McGuire. The real one. She's pretty enough, but not at a model standard. Then, with a dab of lip gloss, I'm on my way to becoming class hottie. I felt a sick twisting of my stomach as I thought this is probably what Kate thinks. I know that image is really important today. I didn't like to think of myself as a victim or whatever from such an odd killer. But only in my reflection do I know I am.
"Come in," I said as the door opened. Miranda flopped on my bed without a greeting. "Hello to you too."
"You will not believe what is going on," Miranda said in a low voice.
"What?," I questioned, painstakingly putting on mascara.
"Claire Miller is having a party," Miranda said with an undertone of excitement. "And inviting us." I stared at her blankly, leaving the mascara wand poised in my hand. Why on earth would CLAIRE invite us to a party? CLAIRE, who spilled paint on my Keds in second grade and made me cry; CLAIRE, who tripped me in the halls almost every day of my life; CLAIRE, who ten minutes ago thought we were losers. There MUST be a mistake.
"Um.what?!," I sat on the bed next to her, feeling her forehead. "Are you okay? I think you're hallucinating." She shook her head quickly.
"It's true!," She cried, handing me a piece of paper with swirling handwriting.
Hey Sanchez,
Party at my house tonight. Sorry about short notice; been busy. 7:30. be on time. Take McGuire and Gordon too.
~ Claire Miller.
"She slipped it under my door this morning; I saw her do it while she was jogging," Miranda's eyes were wide. "Lizzie...our first high school party..." We squealed together.
"Gordo's not going to be this excited, is he?," I laughed.
"Well, too bad for him, because he has to take you," She gave me a small smile. "Or both of us, really, because I don't have a date." Your lucky, I thought to myself.
"What am I going to wear?," I shrieked, rushing to the closet. I felt a slight air-headed feeling, but I ignored it. Just another "blonde moment".
That was something I hated. I always made fun of Kate for being an air-headed, shallow shop-a-holic who has nothing better to do than put people down. And yet, I find myself doing nearly the exact same thing (except putting people down; that's just horrible). Having common ground with Kate Sanders is definitely not on my to do list.
"That's a great top," Miranda commented as I pulled something out of the closet. "It brings out the color in your eyes."
"I guess," I said, a sudden feeling sinking into me. "Miranda, how come we haven't heard about this party around school? Claire's parties are, like, huge."
"Maybe she just planned it," Miranda shrugged. I gave her a Look. "It could happen!"
"I just have a bad feeling about this," I bit my lip. "I mean, how embarrassing would it be to go up to Claire's house, all dressed up, and no one's there or something?"
"Yeah," Miranda replied slowly.
"I just don't know," I sighed.
"I think it's worth the risk."
"You think everything's worth the risk."
"That's not true," She said quietly.
"I guess we could go," I sighed. And there began a horrible day.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
A/N: Okay, not a lot of people to thank once again.
Caley: Whack. I whack your head, woman! Not really, because then you couldn't review and THEN who would?? The sisterhood needs you, my flip flop. You're a smart cookie (shoe) for connecting it. MUCHO love, MUCHO.
See the light: Heh. You. My compliment-or person. Thank you bunches!!! I'm not saying anything about your hunch ;).
"Ugh, Mom, just five more minutes!," I groaned, hiding myself under a fluffy pink pillow. But the bell kept ringing. How inhumane!
"Duh, Lizzie," I mentally hit my forehead. "It's METAL." I let my hand creep out from under the soft covers to hit the stupid thing.
I tried to remember why I was so upset. Oh, right. My worst enemy is hurting herself and I care. This said enemy also made me out as the biggest klutz in the world yesterday. And now... it's Saturday and I have to get up. This SUCKS.
"Lizzie, you're meeting Miranda in fifteen minutes!!! Get up!," I heard a voice call. Oh, great. Now I remember why I have to wake up! Letting out a squeal as I jumped out of bed, I rushed around, looking for clothes. I pressed the PLAY button on my stereo, letting Britney's voice pour out of the small speakers. Motivation, of course.
Getting ready requires a lot of time, I have learned. Looking..presentable everyday grows harder and harder as the world turns. As someone who thinks of Seventeen magazine as the bible, I know this. It's so shallow, and yet...fun. I mean, we could all be like Gordo and care about politics and stuff like that, if we really wanted to. But there's something...exciting about the ability to change what you look like.
When I look in the mirror in the morning, before I even put on my make up, I see Lizzie McGuire. The real one. She's pretty enough, but not at a model standard. Then, with a dab of lip gloss, I'm on my way to becoming class hottie. I felt a sick twisting of my stomach as I thought this is probably what Kate thinks. I know that image is really important today. I didn't like to think of myself as a victim or whatever from such an odd killer. But only in my reflection do I know I am.
"Come in," I said as the door opened. Miranda flopped on my bed without a greeting. "Hello to you too."
"You will not believe what is going on," Miranda said in a low voice.
"What?," I questioned, painstakingly putting on mascara.
"Claire Miller is having a party," Miranda said with an undertone of excitement. "And inviting us." I stared at her blankly, leaving the mascara wand poised in my hand. Why on earth would CLAIRE invite us to a party? CLAIRE, who spilled paint on my Keds in second grade and made me cry; CLAIRE, who tripped me in the halls almost every day of my life; CLAIRE, who ten minutes ago thought we were losers. There MUST be a mistake.
"Um.what?!," I sat on the bed next to her, feeling her forehead. "Are you okay? I think you're hallucinating." She shook her head quickly.
"It's true!," She cried, handing me a piece of paper with swirling handwriting.
Hey Sanchez,
Party at my house tonight. Sorry about short notice; been busy. 7:30. be on time. Take McGuire and Gordon too.
~ Claire Miller.
"She slipped it under my door this morning; I saw her do it while she was jogging," Miranda's eyes were wide. "Lizzie...our first high school party..." We squealed together.
"Gordo's not going to be this excited, is he?," I laughed.
"Well, too bad for him, because he has to take you," She gave me a small smile. "Or both of us, really, because I don't have a date." Your lucky, I thought to myself.
"What am I going to wear?," I shrieked, rushing to the closet. I felt a slight air-headed feeling, but I ignored it. Just another "blonde moment".
That was something I hated. I always made fun of Kate for being an air-headed, shallow shop-a-holic who has nothing better to do than put people down. And yet, I find myself doing nearly the exact same thing (except putting people down; that's just horrible). Having common ground with Kate Sanders is definitely not on my to do list.
"That's a great top," Miranda commented as I pulled something out of the closet. "It brings out the color in your eyes."
"I guess," I said, a sudden feeling sinking into me. "Miranda, how come we haven't heard about this party around school? Claire's parties are, like, huge."
"Maybe she just planned it," Miranda shrugged. I gave her a Look. "It could happen!"
"I just have a bad feeling about this," I bit my lip. "I mean, how embarrassing would it be to go up to Claire's house, all dressed up, and no one's there or something?"
"Yeah," Miranda replied slowly.
"I just don't know," I sighed.
"I think it's worth the risk."
"You think everything's worth the risk."
"That's not true," She said quietly.
"I guess we could go," I sighed. And there began a horrible day.
~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~
A/N: Okay, not a lot of people to thank once again.
Caley: Whack. I whack your head, woman! Not really, because then you couldn't review and THEN who would?? The sisterhood needs you, my flip flop. You're a smart cookie (shoe) for connecting it. MUCHO love, MUCHO.
See the light: Heh. You. My compliment-or person. Thank you bunches!!! I'm not saying anything about your hunch ;).