A/N: Hey, everyone! Another update to my story; sorry I'm taking so long
with my chapters; my brain is now in 'summer mode', since the end of the
school year is almost through (High five for that!).
Orangeblossom Hardbottle: Thanks a bunch for your review! I'm really glad you like my story.
P.S.- Yes, the Lizzie McGuire Movie had a *great* ending! *claps* I've been waiting for that stupid kiss since "Dear Lizzie" . . :D :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, although, I'm begging Disney like crazy . .
Dark Secrets: A Legacy Of Lies
Chapter Six
"Elizabeth."
That voice. It sounded so low and so firm, like it was used to being obeyed. My eyes fluttered open to see an older woman hovered over my bed with a breakfast tray in hand. I sat up, took a good look at her, and my grogginess had suddenly ceased when I saw that face staring back at me.
That face. It was just like gazing into my mother's, yet, this woman's eyes were grey and alone, and her hair was longer and more aged. Still blonde, though, and it was tied into an almost perfect bun in the back of her head. I knew right away that it was Helen Scarborough.
Grandmother.
I could feel her eyes glance about me, and it was making me uncomfortable. My feet were entangled in the covers, so I decided not to make any sudden movements.
"Why have you slept with your clothes on? Didn't Evan show you where the evening undergarments were?"
Oh, so *that* was why she was looking at me strangely. I didn't even remember falling asleep. "The only things that she'd shown me yesterday were my room and Gor-"
I corrected myself, "David's."
It felt so weird saying Gordo's real name. 'David'. No, I definitely liked the name Gordo better. I shuddered at the thought.
'David'.
Again I could feel her wary eyes staring at me. It felt like Helen Scarborough was counting every single thread of hair in my head, every piece of fabric on my body -
Every single thought in my mind.
She set down the breakfast tray and placed her hand under her chin.
"You have . . the most unusual coloring . ."
So what? My skin refused to tan. I had no problem with that. I decided not to reply to her comment. Instead, I finally gathered the strength to get out of bed. Standing next to Helen Scarborough made me feel small.
Her height surprised me. She had to be about three inches taller, but even still, I fought to meet her grey eyes steadily.
"You may sit down," she replied.
"I'd like to stand, if you don't mind. I've been sitting for nearly two days."
There was an awkward pause as she seated herself in one of the room's chairs, nodding. "Just don't pace, please."
After she'd said that, I actually *did* have a sudden urge to pace, but I kept my resistence and stood in front of her with almost nothing to say.
"How is your mother doing?" she finally asked.
You would know if you'd answer some of her letters, I thought angrily. Who did this woman think she was? Even so, I answered her in the politest of my voice.
"She's doing good- *Well*", I corected my grammar. "She's a great mother."
"And your brother?" she added.
Well, I guess Matt had been wrong there; she *did* acknowledge the fact that she had a grandson. I loved it when he was wrong.
"Matt, who's twelve, lives for ruining my life and causing chaos. But . . he's a great kid, a great brother, and I love him. And Dad's doing great, too-"
"Please answer only the questions I propose to you, Elizabeth-"
"Call me Lizzie. Please? Elizabeth sounds too . . uhm . ." I was fumbling for the right word.
"Asenine."
"I see," and with that, Helen Scarborough stood from her seat. "Well, your breakfast is here. When you're through, change your clothes, and have your friend come downstairs with you. You two will see the bottom floor first."
Apparently 'Would you like to?' wasn't part of her daily vocabulary.
"How did you know that David was coming with me?" I asked, completely out- of-the-blue, hoping that she didn't sense the cringe in my voice when I'd said 'David'.
Almost indistinctly as she sounded, her voice was cold and alone when she replied,
"She wrote me a letter."
As she neared my door, I asked another question.
"What am I supposed to call you?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd just call me 'Grandmother' . . Elizabeth."
And with that, she opened the door and walked out of the room.
A/N: How did you like this chapter? It's probably the longest one that I've written so far, but have no fear! Gordo *will be* in the next chapter. Review, review, review! Greatly appreciated. Tell me how this chappie came out! :D
Orangeblossom Hardbottle: Thanks a bunch for your review! I'm really glad you like my story.
P.S.- Yes, the Lizzie McGuire Movie had a *great* ending! *claps* I've been waiting for that stupid kiss since "Dear Lizzie" . . :D :D
Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire, although, I'm begging Disney like crazy . .
Dark Secrets: A Legacy Of Lies
Chapter Six
"Elizabeth."
That voice. It sounded so low and so firm, like it was used to being obeyed. My eyes fluttered open to see an older woman hovered over my bed with a breakfast tray in hand. I sat up, took a good look at her, and my grogginess had suddenly ceased when I saw that face staring back at me.
That face. It was just like gazing into my mother's, yet, this woman's eyes were grey and alone, and her hair was longer and more aged. Still blonde, though, and it was tied into an almost perfect bun in the back of her head. I knew right away that it was Helen Scarborough.
Grandmother.
I could feel her eyes glance about me, and it was making me uncomfortable. My feet were entangled in the covers, so I decided not to make any sudden movements.
"Why have you slept with your clothes on? Didn't Evan show you where the evening undergarments were?"
Oh, so *that* was why she was looking at me strangely. I didn't even remember falling asleep. "The only things that she'd shown me yesterday were my room and Gor-"
I corrected myself, "David's."
It felt so weird saying Gordo's real name. 'David'. No, I definitely liked the name Gordo better. I shuddered at the thought.
'David'.
Again I could feel her wary eyes staring at me. It felt like Helen Scarborough was counting every single thread of hair in my head, every piece of fabric on my body -
Every single thought in my mind.
She set down the breakfast tray and placed her hand under her chin.
"You have . . the most unusual coloring . ."
So what? My skin refused to tan. I had no problem with that. I decided not to reply to her comment. Instead, I finally gathered the strength to get out of bed. Standing next to Helen Scarborough made me feel small.
Her height surprised me. She had to be about three inches taller, but even still, I fought to meet her grey eyes steadily.
"You may sit down," she replied.
"I'd like to stand, if you don't mind. I've been sitting for nearly two days."
There was an awkward pause as she seated herself in one of the room's chairs, nodding. "Just don't pace, please."
After she'd said that, I actually *did* have a sudden urge to pace, but I kept my resistence and stood in front of her with almost nothing to say.
"How is your mother doing?" she finally asked.
You would know if you'd answer some of her letters, I thought angrily. Who did this woman think she was? Even so, I answered her in the politest of my voice.
"She's doing good- *Well*", I corected my grammar. "She's a great mother."
"And your brother?" she added.
Well, I guess Matt had been wrong there; she *did* acknowledge the fact that she had a grandson. I loved it when he was wrong.
"Matt, who's twelve, lives for ruining my life and causing chaos. But . . he's a great kid, a great brother, and I love him. And Dad's doing great, too-"
"Please answer only the questions I propose to you, Elizabeth-"
"Call me Lizzie. Please? Elizabeth sounds too . . uhm . ." I was fumbling for the right word.
"Asenine."
"I see," and with that, Helen Scarborough stood from her seat. "Well, your breakfast is here. When you're through, change your clothes, and have your friend come downstairs with you. You two will see the bottom floor first."
Apparently 'Would you like to?' wasn't part of her daily vocabulary.
"How did you know that David was coming with me?" I asked, completely out- of-the-blue, hoping that she didn't sense the cringe in my voice when I'd said 'David'.
Almost indistinctly as she sounded, her voice was cold and alone when she replied,
"She wrote me a letter."
As she neared my door, I asked another question.
"What am I supposed to call you?"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd just call me 'Grandmother' . . Elizabeth."
And with that, she opened the door and walked out of the room.
A/N: How did you like this chapter? It's probably the longest one that I've written so far, but have no fear! Gordo *will be* in the next chapter. Review, review, review! Greatly appreciated. Tell me how this chappie came out! :D
