Almost eleven hours of sleep later, I awoke to find Lizzie already awake, playing Tetris on my red Nintendo Game Boy.
"How long have you been up?" I asked groggily, my eyes still half closed and my head barely moved from its sleeping position.
"Oh, like, an hour," she said nonchalantly, looking up from the small screen, "or two." She held out the Game Boy. "I hope you don't mind. I got really bored."
Wow. The endless list of Lizzie's weird idiosyncrasies never ceased to amaze me. Looking at her bag, it made zero sense why she needed to borrowanything. From anyone.
"Wait, wait, wait," I said in the midst of my disbelieving laughter, "you mean to tell me that you brought all that junk"–I pointed to her bag underneath the seat–"and you're not using it?!"
It looked like the smile was frozen on her face as she squinted her eyes and stare at me like I was the biggest idiot in the room–er, cabin. Like the real answer was so obvious that I should be ashamed to even mention it. So there we were, both non-believers of our own reckoning.
"Gordo" she said hastily. "Most of the stuff in that backpack is makeup." She took out a pot of lip glass that read, "wet n wild vanilla". I hope "wet n wild" is the brand name, because I just don't see how vanilla can be wet and wild–unlessunless it came in psychedelic colors and melted all over your hand. "Gordo, phone home! You're blanking out again!"
I shook myself out of my trance.
"I didn't know my lip gloss was so thought-provoking to you, Gordo," Lizzie said with a smirk on her face.
"Then you don't know me very well, Lizzie McGuire. I happen to be astounded at the very essence of this thing you so delicately call lip gloss'." A bit of a stretch, I know. Even for me. Stupidly funny, even. But few things cheered me up more than hearing Lizzie laugh at my bad jokes.
"And you call me weird?" she laughed, shaking her head. "You make no sense, Gordo."
It was true I was a little weird, but hey, I did too make sense! Lizzie was just oblivious to any type of hidden meaning in anything. Except when she wanted there to be a hidden meaning, and then she'd run off with Miranda to devise some brilliant plan to delve deeper into the hidden meaning' which was actually just some big work of fiction she made up entirely in her head. It was like she only heard what she wanted to hear, and if she interpreted something wrongly, she wouldn't admit it. It was frustrating–like she thought she was infallible!
I took a deep breath. I can't get mad at Lizzie, especially not now. She was the only person I could really talk to now without it costing $100 per minute. And even if this wasn't the case, I still didn't want to fight with Lizzie. It was too hard to fight with a girl so
I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Lizzie was just soshe was soshe wasjust soLizzie.
Did I really just say that? Lizzie is soLizzie'? Am I some sort of incompetent moron? That sounded like something Ethan would say. I just reduced myself to the level of Ethan Craft.
Speaking of Ethan, where did he get off stealing MY quote for Lizzie's yearbook, anyway? Okay, maybe it wasn't quite mine, per se, but how would she ever decipher the different between my You rock, don't ever change' and his You rock, don't ever change'? Yeah, so I said I really meant it'. She probably thought Ethan really meant it, too.
Then again, there was that kiss
But it didn't mean anything. I mean, like she said afterwards, "You've been a really great friend to me, Gordo. Thanks." It felt really nice to finally see gratitude in Lizzie's eyes after years of feeling like Unappreciated Gordo.
Yet again, those few seconds between the kiss on the cheek and her explanation left me absolutely stupefied. My mind was jumbled and thrown all around and everything just confused the heck out of me. One second, I was living in this stable world, and the next, it was this realm of enigma too confusing for my small mind. And I wanted to believe her so bad when she said it was just a friendly' thing but another part of me refused to believe that. The reasonable part of me refused to believe that.
But back to the original point
Very few people thought about what it was really like to be someone's best friend. It's always there and it's something we take for granted, but did you ever sit back and think.'Wow. I'm somebody's best friend.'
I'm psychotic. I am schizophrenic. Why do I think such weird things? Me and my questions. I need to shut up and stop thinking for a minute. Like Ethan.
Everything keeps relating back to Ethan! I hate the guy! Well, not hate, but it's getting close, really close to being hate.
I need somebody to talk to. Somebody who I can talk toabout Lizzie. About our friendship. About anything.
"Ladies and gentleman, we will be landing in Rome Fiumicino Airport is less than 15 minutes. Please prepare for landing."
I never thought I'd say this, but.
I need Miranda.
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[A/N: Poor Gordyboy.
Okay, sorry for the short chapter but duuuude I really wanted to get this out tonight. And I like a lot of stuff in it so I hope the quality makes up for the lack of quantityor something. Okay I'm dumb. I start my sentences with "okay" way too much. I need a life. Okay, shut up, Aubrey.
Lemme know what you think: please review. THANKS!]
