The Assignment

Chapter 4- Gordo's POV

Lunchtime is my favorite part of the day even if the food in our cafeteria does by definition suck. I eat it anyway. I have been known to eat almost anything if I'm hungry enough.

That's not why I like it. Don't tell Lizzie and Miranda or it'll go straight to their heads, but I like spending time with my best friends. Listening to them yap on and on endlessly about boys, clothes, or some other shallow topic they have deemed worthy for lunchtime discussion. It cracks me up how they never seem to ever run out of words.

I pretend like I hate it to save my image, but as far as friends go I could do a whole lot worse.

I also like to people watch. That's a big hobby of mine. And in a place like high school where people are so naturally two faced, it can be extremely entertaining and enlightening.

It's probably that I've just spent way too much time with my shrink parents over the years, but what can you do. They've rubbed off on me more than I care to admit. Reading endless piles and piles of your parent's case studies at a young age is not a good idea.

Mostly though, I watch Kate. I don't know why, but in the past year or so it's almost become sort of a weird obsession of me. I don't stalk her and I'm not in love with her, but she piques my adolescent interest. I can't help it. I'm a guy.

This is of course something I've never told Lizzie and Miranda, something I can't tell the two practically most important people in my life.

I keep secrets from my best friend and girlfriend. What does that say about me? I guess that makes me as two-faced as the rest of the herd, but there's a lot I don't tell them. They tell me practically everything, usually in far greater detail than I need.

I can't tell Miranda about Kate because she wouldn't understand. Her and Kate are mortal enemies and besides, she'd tell Lizzie. It's part of the unwritten girl code.

Lizzie can't find out, well because it would hurt her and that's the last thing I ever want to do. She'd take it personally and think that meant I care less about her. Being interested in someone doesn't make you appreciate someone else less.

Lizzie and I have been dating on and off all year. I love her more than anybody. She's my angel and an amazing girlfriend.

But sometimes I wonder if I date Lizzie because I want to or because we're supposed to. All our lives our parents have ingrained it into our heads that we belong together, we will be together. So has Miranda. Hell, even Miranda's parents have gotten in on the act.

It's some sort of elaborate brainwashing scheme. It's like our family and friends have decided our own fate without consulting us on the details. I wouldn't be surprised if they've already planned our wedding for us.

It makes me want to scream sometimes. I'm only fifteen, but everywhere we go people comment on Lizzie and me. They call us words like cute, adorable, destined and my absolute favorite, precious. Precious. I am not precious nor do I want to be precious.

As much as I love her as a person, I'm not sure I'm in love with her as a girlfriend. It's hard to tell. There are way too many other people involved in our relationship.

I sit at our usual table with my tray of unrecognizable gunk to find Lizzie and Miranda still aren't there.

I spot Kate across the courtyard looking particularly nervous and agitated. She doesn't think anyone sees her, but I always do. I manage to capture and see her at those times when she drops the haughty smug "I'm better than you are" look she carries most of the time, particularly when surrounded by her cheerleader posse.

Kate's a lot deeper than people give her credit for. I've always known that. We did used to be friends.

As popular and shallow as she comes across, that's not the real Kate. There's trouble that lurks within her, a darker side hidden under the caked on makeup and designer clothes.

We don't talk much anymore, but there's a part of me that can relate to her more than my own friends. The secretive part of me.

When Mr. Dig gave that assignment I immediately found myself thinking about Kate. I want to know what it is like to be her and see things in her head. To see what she goes through. That's who I wrote about. Kate.

I could sense Lizzie eyeing me strangely as I wrote fervently and passionately, filling up my college-ruled notebook pages. I'm sure she was wondering what or rather whom I could be writing so much about. There is no way she'd ever guess.

Lizzie sits down at the table across from me, Miranda right behind her. They are strangely quiet. I thought for sure Miranda would have at least asked me about my essay by now. She's the direct one.

We eat practically in silence, save a little small talk about nothing of importance. I know Lizzie is upset. She hasn't told me so directly, but I can see right through her half-hearted smile. I don't know why. We have made up since our stupid argument in class.

I do have to hand it to Mr. Dig. He does find ways to make us look at ourselves, which leads me to wonder what exactly Lizzie and Miranda had written to keep them so oddly preoccupied.

Kate is finally joined by Claire, Danny, Ethan and some others.

I remember back to when we all were friends. One time in particular. We were in the third grade and Kate had just found out her mom was getting remarried to some sleaze she'd picked up while drunk at a bar. The sleaze had gotten Kate's mom knocked up and the sleaze had informed Kate that if it was up to him she would be sent to boarding school as soon as possible. She was in the way at home.

I had found Kate crying on the playground. She didn't want to tell Lizzie and Miranda what was wrong because they both have the kind of perfect families that you only see on TV. The kind where nobody ever fights and when they do the biggest arguments are over who will take out the trash or pick up the dry cleaning. You got to love the boring predictability of suburban life.

Kate was embarrassed by her own family's lack of perfection. She confided in me while she cried.

I could sort of relate. Being my parents are shrinks, they have always believed that it's necessary to tell me everything about their marriage. All their problems to the most minute detail. Let's just say, I know things about my folks no fifteen year old should.

But that's irrelevant right now. Kate trusted me to see her at her worst, something that even in third grade didn't come easily for her. No one knew.

Only I know that for her popularity is a comfort blanket of acceptance. She needs to fit in and be in control to make up for a rotten home life where she never fits in or hardly feels needed. Hardly feels loved.

A place where her father ran off from before she could walk without so much as even a backwards glance. A place where her mother is too busy screwing guys and getting face lifts every other week to notice a damn thing. It's truly a Lifetime movie of the week. Kate should be messed up a whole lot more than she is.

If it wasn't for her tremendous inner strength she would be. I haven't seen her cry since that day in third grade. She steels herself not to.

But Kate needs popularity the way I need my movie camera. It's part of me, part of who I am, an extension of myself. Popularity is part of Kate and always was to some extent. She uses it to feel whole. Same with me and the camera.

I can understand and accept that about her even if she takes her power trips too far and tortures those who don't deserve it.

I used to make fun of Kate, but now I don't. I can't bring myself to. Every now and then I catch her eye and through the steel she gives me a hint of that former smile I used to know almost as well as Lizzie and Miranda's own.

Kate is smart and beautiful. Sometimes I want to tell her that, to remind her, but she'd take it the wrong way and think I was coming on to her. Then she'd save face by insulting me and cutting me back down to size. Plus there's that whole Lizzie relationship thing again.

Mr. Dig has the right idea though. One day in the life of Kate Saunders. I can just think of the film now. It could be my Oscar winner, a real eye opener for the viewing public. It'll never happen. Kate would never let it happen.

Lizzie's gaze burns my cheek as I stare at the popular table. Of course Lizzie thinks I'm glaring at Ethan, still upset over her former crush on him. I'm long over that, beyond caring.

Kate picks at her food, not talking, something upsetting her. She doesn't even rag on Larry when he accidentally bumps her with his lunch tray as he walks by. Larry is one of her favorite targets.

I turn back to my own table only this time to find Miranda doing the staring. At me.

"What?" I ask her. "Do I have food on my face?"

"No", Miranda says studying me carefully. "I asked about the social studies assignment", her eyes following my own and checking out the popular table. "Who'd you write about?"

I have to be careful. Miranda is observant when she wants to be. She knows I'm up to something even if she doesn't know what.

I try to stare Miranda down. "Uhh, Tudgeman", I lie. "I wrote about Larry Tudgeman."

Miranda continues to glare at me. "Seriously?" she asks with a hint of incredulity in her voice.

"There's nothing wrong with Tudgeman", Lizzie shoots back quite loudly and defensively, causing our gazes to turn to her instead. It's the first time she's spoken in the past twenty minutes. She lowers her voice. "I just meant he's a good guy who doesn't deserve to be picked on."

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with him", Miranda answers. "I was just shocked, that's all."

"What about you Miranda? What did you write?" I ask her.

She smiles. "You'll find out soon enough", she sing songs, but my mind was already elsewhere tuning her out.

I hope Kate is okay. She couldn't be thinking about this whole Mr. Dig thing, could she? What exactly had she done and why the hell did I care so much? I should be worried about what is bothering Lizzie.

But Lizzie has Miranda. Who does Kate have?

I watch Kate clear her still untouched tray and rush off in the direction of the girl's bathroom without so much as a word to her friends.

They are too busy to notice. It's not like they care.

I finish my lunch without any major developments. I need to get a new hobby.