Disclaimer: I don't own it!

Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.

***Reap What You Sow***

I had no more classes with Kate that day, but I joined her and her cronies at lunch. They seemed confused at my presence, but a few empty compliments of their outfits, and a few snide comments directed at Hillridge's nerd population, and I was in.

The code to being cool was being followed. Kate Sanders was followed. Followed, admired, worshiped, feared, respected, loved, hated. I didn't want to be one of Kate's lackeys. I wanted to be Kate. Be the next Kate. I wanted to have people speak the name Lizzie McGuire the same way they spoke the name Kate Sanders. I wanted Kate to be *my* lackey.

But it was a matter of time. And although it went against my newly-acquired set of principals, I showed up at Kate's locker after school like any other lackey.

Although, *unlike* any other lackey, I had an agenda. She was alone when I sidled up to her. "Kate, I want a spot on the squad."

She looked at me like I'd grown a second head. Today I'd earned the acceptance and grudging respect of the in crowd, but it was proper form to at least wait a month before even *thinking* of making the demands I was making. "Um, excuse me?" she said.

"I want to try out."

Kate laughed. "Yeah, McGuire, you can try out. How about with the rest of the wannabes at the beginning of next year."

I fixed her with one of my son-to-be-patented evil stares. "How about *now*."

I was the newbie. Kate was the master. But I spoke with such authoritativeness that she actually backed down. Who knew I had it in me? Gordo and Miranda certainly didn't. They'd underestimated me. Everyone had underestimated me. It was time to show people who Lizzie McGuire really was.

"Y--yeah," she stammered, not sure what to make of any of this. "Listen, I'll talk to the girls at practice, and I'll see what I can do."

"See to it," I said, and walked away. A few more rules. Always be the first one to walk away, and don't look back. Looking back is weakness. You have power; *assert it*.

****

Keep them scared is what I've learned from Kate. Along with hating her, I always secretly feared her. Feared what she could do to my reputation, feared what she could do to me.

Now the cheerleaders had fear. Kate had somehow finagled me a tryout the next afternoon, and I was out there, wowing them. Fear. I was thriving on their fear and confusion. I was just little Lizzie McGuire, not cut out to be a cheerleader. I didn't have the vivaciousness, I didn't have the me-first attitude, I wasn't like the rest of them. Or so they thought.

Another preconception they had of me that I was clumsy, that I could hardly walk two feet without falling on my face. That wasn't totally true. I *had* been in rhythmic gymnastics, and while I was a klutz most anywhere else, on the mat I was a goddess. I had skills, I had voice, I had back flips up the wazoo, I had finesse, I had poise that Miranda Sanchez could only *dream* of. Fear me. Love me.

They did both. They burst into applause when my routine was finished, and I had them. I was one of them. I sauntered up to them, smiling, confident. "How'd I do?" I said breezily, inspecting my nails as if I didn't care one way or another.

"Fantastic," Anissa, the captain, said. Admiration glittered in her eyes. "Much better than we expected, considering your...ah...*reputation*," she finished in a hushed tone.

I shrugged. "Don't always believe what you hear." Even though everything they'd ever heard was probably true.

"We'll let you know tomorrow," another girl, Lindsey, said, but she said it with such awe that I knew I'd made it.

After changing in the locker room, I strutted down the hallway. It was empty, school was done and over, but I owned this hallway. I *owned* it. And tomorrow I would own it even more, a cheerleader, the top of the top, the best of the best, the creme de la creme.

Who hangs out at the school after hours? It's not who you'd expect. Yeah, sure, it's still the nerds and the chess team and the math club geeks. But it's also the jocks and the cheerleaders, busting their butts at practice so they can continue to claim that glory on the field that gives them that glory everywhere else. Tomorrow morning I would be one of them, the new cheerleader who'd finagled an audition in the middle of the year, and had gotten on the squad. I would have that glory. I would have that power.

I would rise above David Gordon.