I don't own it.

===Voices Carry===

Miranda wasn't in any of their classes for the rest of the afternoon, and Lizzie and Gordo decided to converge at Lizzie's house to work on homework and worry about Miranda. "The way I see it," Gordo said as they walked home, "if she freaks out and tells us not to involved any adults, then it must be really huge, so maybe we *should* get an adult involved. And your mom is perfect."

"Why is my mom perfect?"

"Because my mom is...well, she's my mom. You know how she is. She'll psychoanalyze the furniture if it holds still long enough, and we don't need Miranda analyzed, we need advice."

"Maybe we *do* need Miranda analyzed."

"Somehow, I don't think that would help."

"It's better than nothing. At least we'd have an answer."

"That's why we're talking to your mom," Gordo said. "Your mom always has answers."

"But what if she calls Miranda's mom?" Lizzie worried. "And then Miranda gets in trouble, or she gets mad at us..."

"If it's bad enough that Miranda gets in trouble, then we've helped. And which would you rather have, Miranda mad at us, or Miranda in some serious danger?"

Lizzie bit her lip. "I guess you're right. But for the record, I don't like it."

"Fair enough."

When they got to Lizzie's house however, only Mr. McGuire was there, not his wife. Lizzie and Gordo were in and out of the kitchen only long enough to grab a snack, then they retreated to Lizzie's room immediately. "Can we talk about anything other than Miranda?" Lizzie groaned, collapsing backwards onto her bed. "Not that I don't love her, and not that I'm not worried about her, but my brain is starting to hurt."

"Ditto," Gordo said, tossing aside some pillows and climbing onto Lizzie's window seat with a tray of cookies. "So let's talk about something easy. Algebra!"

Lizzie sat up, squealing indignantly. "Gordo!" she said, and tossed a pillow at his head.

Gordo ducked to the side, and almost toppled the snack tray in the process. "Watch it! I have cookies!"

"If you want to live long enough to eat them, don't mention algebra ever again," Lizzie said warningly, and then lay back down to stare pensively at her ceiling.

Some of their best moments together were spent in silence, and this could have been one of them, if worry for Miranda hadn't put a damper on the mood. Lizzie traced the ceiling cracks with her eyes, while Gordo gazed out the window, chewing cookies methodically. "Hey, your mom's home," he observed, watching as Mrs. McGuire pulled in the driveway.

Lizzie sat up for the first time in fifteen minutes. "Do we really have to do this?"

Gordo frowned and looked at her. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't know what's going on or how we should deal with this. But we need to talk to someone, and maybe she can help."

Lizzie nodded resolutely, and they got up, filing out of her room like a funeral parade. Sam McGuire had retreated to the den to watch television with Matt, and Jo McGuire was bustling around the kitchen, humming as she put away groceries.

"Mom?" Lizzie asked as she and Gordo took seats at the island.

"What is it, honey?" Jo turned around to pull a can of tomato sauce out of one of the grocery bags and spotted her daughter's best friend. "Hey, Gordo."

"Um, hi, Mrs. McGuire," Gordo said.

"We want to talk to you," Lizzie said. "It's um, it's kind of important."

Jo nearly dropped the package of hot dog buns she was holding. "Oh my gosh, are you two getting together?" she squealed, joy lighting her face.

Lizzie and Gordo both panicked, sitting up straighter, looking at each other and then looking away quickly, blushing, and both stammering urgently, "No!"

"Oh," Jo said, looking immediately contrite for her quick jump to conclusions, then pretending like it hadn't happened. "What, then?"

"It's, um, it's Miranda," Lizzie confessed. "Something's wrong, but we don't know what. She was really late for first period today, and she didn't have a pass, and she like, barely talked at all...and then she disappeared for all of our classes except lunch...and when I talked to her, she was really defensive and secretive and asked that we not talk to anyone about it." She glanced at Gordo, who nodded encouragingly. "Which is why we're talking to you. We need advice."

Jo abandoned putting away the groceries and sat down opposite the teenagers. "Sounds serious."

"Yeah."

"Does she look any different than normal?"

"Um...I don't know. Kinda tired, really, but nothing major, I don't think." Lizzie, who had been studying her hands, looked up sharply. "You don't think it's like...abuse, or something?"

While Lizzie was alarmed, neither Gordo nor Mrs. McGuire seemed all that surprised. Clearly, they'd been thinking along the same lines.

"No!" Lizzie burst. "No, no, no! Mom, you know Miranda's mom and dad...they're nothing like that."

"Sometimes people will surprise you," was all that Jo said.

Her daughter shook her head fiercely, hitting Gordo's shoulder with her blond hair. "No. It can't be that way. It can't. I...I don't believe it," she said, more to herself then to them, getting up and walking away.

Jo turned her eyes to Gordo. "Going after her?" she questioned.

"In a sec," Gordo promised. "I have to say that I agree with her...Miranda's parents aren't like that. But I can't help thinking that maybe this is what this is all about."

"I don't really believe that Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez are capable of that sort of thing," Jo said. "Still..."

"Yeah," Gordo said.

"I won't call anyone just yet," she said. "I think that would be the best course of action, but I'll wait for you two to find out a little more before I do anything drastic. Maybe it's just PMS, and it'll all blow over. Who knows?"

Gordo nodded resolutely, and got up from the table. "Thanks, Mrs. McGuire," he said, and chased after his best friend.