Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
Disclaimer 2: I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.
Author's note: sorry this is so late in coming, people! As you know, I've got about twenty seven million other projects going on currently, but this one got cast aside long before even that...then I went on a brief trip, came back, and suffered an intense case of writer's block that left every story temporarily suspended. So by way of apology, this one is extra-long.
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
You're The One That I Want
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
As the days progressed, Lizzie got a lot more comfortable with working with Larry. He was a nice guy, and he was super dedicated to making this play work out. That was really an asset, considering that Gordo was slowly losing his mind.
At lunch one afternoon, Lizzie slid into her seat with all the finesse of someone who was becoming increasingly confident with herself, something that the school play and the endless reinforcement provided by Gordo, Miranda, Tudgeman, and Mr. Dig was building. Miranda was even more confident with the role than Lizzie was, something that nagged at Lizzie's conscience, slowly eroding the self-assurance she herself was building, but she pushed it out of her mind.
"You should've seen Kate at play practice last night," Lizzie told Miranda, seeing as how the brunette had had a dentist appointment and had missed it. "She had a total hissy fit. Right, Gordo?"
The only response from Gordo was a soft snore, his head using his lunch tray as a pillow, nose precarious inches from his mound of mashed potatoes. Lizzie clucked and shook her head. "He's overworking himself. He's at school every afternoon and evening, then he goes home and does homework, then he has to be here first thing in the morning, too."
"He's going to have an ulcer before he's fifteen," Miranda said.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."
Suddenly someone slammed their tray on the table. Gordo moaned in his sleep, stirring slightly, but not waking up. The girls looked up, and found Ethan Craft grinning at them. "Hey, Miranda. Liz-zie! What's shakin'?"
"Not much, Ethan," Lizzie said, flashing him a brilliant and adoring smile.
"God, Lizzie, could we turn down the wattage slightly?" Miranda said.
Lizzie's smile faded for the fraction of the second in which she glared menacingly at her female best friend, then turned back to worshipping Ethan. "So how's it going with you?"
"Pretty good," he said. "I got a C on the history quiz!" His chest swelled slightly with pride. Lizzie's smile became decidedly more fixed as she announced, "That's great."
"How's play practice going?" he asked. "I don't get to see you too much."
"It's going pretty good, I've got almost all of my lines memorized. But the musical sequences are hard."
"You'll do great," he said. "You're totally awesome."
Ethan Craft had called her awesome. Lizzie blushed, Miranda gaped, Gordo snored, Ethan kept smiling. "Um...thanks," Lizzie said. She was about to say something else --what, exactly, she wasn't sure of-- but they were interrupted by a soft 'splut' sound, and the three of them looked over to see that Gordo had rolled over into his mashed potatoes.
"Our fearless leader," Miranda commented dryly, as Gordo lifted his head and blinked sleepily.
"Hunh..?" he said, looking around, then crossing his eyes to peer down his nose, the end of which --as well as the left side of his face-- was coated in a layer of bad cafeteria vegetable side dish. He looked disoriented, which soon faded into disgusted.
Lizzie was immediately concerned. "Gordo, are you okay?"
"I'll be okay in a second or two," he muttered, reaching for her napkin then wiping at the side of his face.
"I don't mean that. I mean you've been falling asleep all the time lately. I'm worried about you."
"I'm just stressed, with the play and school and everything," he said. "I'll be fine come opening night...*if* you don't trip during one of your numbers."
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Okay, I so totally haven't fallen over at all this week. You're exaggerating."
"You've never performed well under stress," Gordo pointed out airily, tossing the wadded up napkin back on Lizzie's tray where he'd gotten it. She glared at it with an expression of mild disgust. "Fine. If this is what I get for trying to be all helpful, then forget it. Work yourself to death, see if I care." She deposited Gordo's soggy napkin on top of his potatoes, then turned to Ethan with a sugary smile. "Wanna get out of here, Ethan?"
"Yeah, sure, sounds good," he said cheerfully, and they strutted out of the courtyard.
Gordo and Miranda watched them go. "What did I do?" Gordo said.
Miranda shrugged, disinterested. "I dunno. Exist?"
He glared at her. "Not helping, Sanchez."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then immediately retracted it, distracted by something over his shoulder. "Incoming."
"What--" Gordo started to say, but Kate Sanders had already stopped in front of them. "Gordo, I think you should recast me."
"*What*?" Gordo and Miranda chorused.
"Are you kidding me? It's too late in the game to recast, and either way, Mr. Dig and I stand firm in our decision for Lizzie as Sandy."
"But...but...*Frenchy*," Kate spluttered, and the two amigos almost laughed at her would-be pitiful look. "Can't you at least make me Lizzie's understudy?"
"Excuse me, she already *has* an understudy," Miranda said, annoyed.
"Do you want me to crush you?" Kate snapped.
"Don't you have people who can do that for you? Or have they all abandoned you now that you're only the comic relief?"
Gordo normally loved anyone taking Kate down a peg, especially when it was Lizzie or Miranda on the fighting end, but as much as he loved seeing the indignant expression on Kate's face, he didn't want his cast getting into anything hostile, so he stepped in quickly, throwing up his hands. "Ladies, retract your claws, okay? Save some of this passion for the stage, and everyone benefits."
Kate fixed her glare on him instead, but after a second or two in which it was apparent that he wasn't planning on getting involved more intensely than director/mediator, she sighed resignedly. "*Fine*, whatever," Kate huffed. "Catch you on the flip, losers," she said with a toss of her hair and started away.
Miranda, however, wasn't going to settle this when she hadn't won. "You seem to be missing Ethan, hmm?" she called.
Kate stopped dead, whirled around so fast that her own hair whipped her in the face, and stared Miranda down with such a death glare that even Gordo swallowed hard. "Watch yourself, Sanchez, you're just an understudy," she spat, and flounced off again.
"Five seconds ago, she was about to lick your shoes to be an understudy," Miranda remarked, biting into her pizza.
Gordo sighed. "I'm not getting paid enough for this." He rubbed at his temple, which was suddenly throbbing.
"You're not getting paid at all," Miranda said, clearly not having noticed his desperate tone.
Gordo didn't know which was the worse part, that Miranda didn't care, or that she was absolutely right.
~~~~~
Meanwhile, Lizzie was nodding stupidly while Ethan chatted away about golf. Lizzie, having attempted golf on several occasions when she was first trying to get Ethan's attention, had found it to be more dull and boring than the annual gnome convention her father dragged her to every year. So her attention was wavering, and when Larry Tudgeman came to a stop in front of them, she was so thrilled for a break in the conversation (more of a monologue, really), that she could have hugged him.
She didn't, of course. It was Larry Tudgeman.
"Hey, Lizzie," Tudgeman said warmly, then noting her companion, added with considerably less emotion, "Ethan."
"Tudgeman!" Ethan proclaimed, for Ethan liked everyone.
"Hey, Larry, what's up?" Lizzie said, smiling.
"I was just wondering if you had the next period free..." he said. "I was hoping we could work on the final number, since we don't have practice tonight."
"We don't?" Lizzie said, then pulled the schedule out of her back jeans pocket where she kept it for double- and triple-checking, unfolded it, and realized that today *was* their day off. "Oh, wow, we don't," she said, refolding the paper and jamming it back in her pocket. She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, I just have study hall next period. I'm glad you asked--I was super-worried about the finale, and wanted to practice it with you *without* Gordo breathing down my neck."
"He's a bit overzealous, isn't he?" Larry agreed.
Lizzie nodded, but she felt guilty for even thinking about putting down her best friend, so she quickly added, "Well, he's really stressed. He practically lives in the auditorium."
"He doesn't live there next period, I checked. He has AP English, and Mr. Dig said we could borrow the stage if we so direly needed."
"We direly do," Lizzie said, and they laughed.
Ethan looked back and forth between them, looking confused (which was normal for him). "What's going on?"
"OH!" Lizzie said, just now remembering that she'd been walking with Ethan. "Um, Ethan, Larry and I are going to the auditorium to rehearse. I'll see you later, okay?"
Larry raised an eyebrow.
Ethan nodded. "Cool. I'll see you in history."
"You bet," she said cheerfully, and grabbed Tudgeman's arm, leading him down the hallway.
"Not that I *mind* or anything, but just so you know, I didn't necessarily mean now," Tudgeman said, bewildered.
"Yeah, sorry about that, but I just had to get out of there, you know? Ethan was so blah blah blah about golf, and I could really care less."
"I thought you were head-over-heels for Ethan just like all the others," Larry said.
"Well, I--I am," Lizzie stammered, suddenly uncertain. "And he seems like he might actually be interested in me, you know? This makes, like, the third day in a row where he's wanted to hang out with me at lunch, and he totally blew off Kate twice now to sit with *me*, and..." Lizzie paused for breath, then realized she wasn't sure what else to say. "I dunno. It's just weird, is all, I think that maybe he might like me a little."
"How could he not?" Larry said flippantly, pushing the door to the auditorium open and holding it so she could go through. "Ah, just as I suspected, empty."
"Is there any way we can bolt the door, so no one can walk in on us?" Lizzie asked, making her way down the aisle.
"Okay, you *do* realize that you have the starring role in the school's musical, and that pretty much everyone *will* see you do this routine," Larry pointed out.
"Yeah, but that'll be when I'm good," she said. She ducked backstage, rifled through the prop cabinet, and pulled out the spare Grease soundtrack CD that they used for practices. She popped it into the CD player while Larry flipped some switches, shedding light on the stage.
Lizzie grabbed the remote, met Larry in the center of the stage. "Dancing first, then singing?" she asked.
"Sounds like a plan."
Lizzie pressed the button and let the music wash over them.
Disclaimer 2: I don't know the first thing about Grease, seeing as how I've seen it once. So if you were expecting to see lots of big musical numbers and lots of quoted dialogue, you probably won't. My apologies to any Grease-afficiandos that might be reading this.
Author's note: sorry this is so late in coming, people! As you know, I've got about twenty seven million other projects going on currently, but this one got cast aside long before even that...then I went on a brief trip, came back, and suffered an intense case of writer's block that left every story temporarily suspended. So by way of apology, this one is extra-long.
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
You're The One That I Want
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
As the days progressed, Lizzie got a lot more comfortable with working with Larry. He was a nice guy, and he was super dedicated to making this play work out. That was really an asset, considering that Gordo was slowly losing his mind.
At lunch one afternoon, Lizzie slid into her seat with all the finesse of someone who was becoming increasingly confident with herself, something that the school play and the endless reinforcement provided by Gordo, Miranda, Tudgeman, and Mr. Dig was building. Miranda was even more confident with the role than Lizzie was, something that nagged at Lizzie's conscience, slowly eroding the self-assurance she herself was building, but she pushed it out of her mind.
"You should've seen Kate at play practice last night," Lizzie told Miranda, seeing as how the brunette had had a dentist appointment and had missed it. "She had a total hissy fit. Right, Gordo?"
The only response from Gordo was a soft snore, his head using his lunch tray as a pillow, nose precarious inches from his mound of mashed potatoes. Lizzie clucked and shook her head. "He's overworking himself. He's at school every afternoon and evening, then he goes home and does homework, then he has to be here first thing in the morning, too."
"He's going to have an ulcer before he's fifteen," Miranda said.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."
Suddenly someone slammed their tray on the table. Gordo moaned in his sleep, stirring slightly, but not waking up. The girls looked up, and found Ethan Craft grinning at them. "Hey, Miranda. Liz-zie! What's shakin'?"
"Not much, Ethan," Lizzie said, flashing him a brilliant and adoring smile.
"God, Lizzie, could we turn down the wattage slightly?" Miranda said.
Lizzie's smile faded for the fraction of the second in which she glared menacingly at her female best friend, then turned back to worshipping Ethan. "So how's it going with you?"
"Pretty good," he said. "I got a C on the history quiz!" His chest swelled slightly with pride. Lizzie's smile became decidedly more fixed as she announced, "That's great."
"How's play practice going?" he asked. "I don't get to see you too much."
"It's going pretty good, I've got almost all of my lines memorized. But the musical sequences are hard."
"You'll do great," he said. "You're totally awesome."
Ethan Craft had called her awesome. Lizzie blushed, Miranda gaped, Gordo snored, Ethan kept smiling. "Um...thanks," Lizzie said. She was about to say something else --what, exactly, she wasn't sure of-- but they were interrupted by a soft 'splut' sound, and the three of them looked over to see that Gordo had rolled over into his mashed potatoes.
"Our fearless leader," Miranda commented dryly, as Gordo lifted his head and blinked sleepily.
"Hunh..?" he said, looking around, then crossing his eyes to peer down his nose, the end of which --as well as the left side of his face-- was coated in a layer of bad cafeteria vegetable side dish. He looked disoriented, which soon faded into disgusted.
Lizzie was immediately concerned. "Gordo, are you okay?"
"I'll be okay in a second or two," he muttered, reaching for her napkin then wiping at the side of his face.
"I don't mean that. I mean you've been falling asleep all the time lately. I'm worried about you."
"I'm just stressed, with the play and school and everything," he said. "I'll be fine come opening night...*if* you don't trip during one of your numbers."
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Okay, I so totally haven't fallen over at all this week. You're exaggerating."
"You've never performed well under stress," Gordo pointed out airily, tossing the wadded up napkin back on Lizzie's tray where he'd gotten it. She glared at it with an expression of mild disgust. "Fine. If this is what I get for trying to be all helpful, then forget it. Work yourself to death, see if I care." She deposited Gordo's soggy napkin on top of his potatoes, then turned to Ethan with a sugary smile. "Wanna get out of here, Ethan?"
"Yeah, sure, sounds good," he said cheerfully, and they strutted out of the courtyard.
Gordo and Miranda watched them go. "What did I do?" Gordo said.
Miranda shrugged, disinterested. "I dunno. Exist?"
He glared at her. "Not helping, Sanchez."
She stuck her tongue out at him, then immediately retracted it, distracted by something over his shoulder. "Incoming."
"What--" Gordo started to say, but Kate Sanders had already stopped in front of them. "Gordo, I think you should recast me."
"*What*?" Gordo and Miranda chorused.
"Are you kidding me? It's too late in the game to recast, and either way, Mr. Dig and I stand firm in our decision for Lizzie as Sandy."
"But...but...*Frenchy*," Kate spluttered, and the two amigos almost laughed at her would-be pitiful look. "Can't you at least make me Lizzie's understudy?"
"Excuse me, she already *has* an understudy," Miranda said, annoyed.
"Do you want me to crush you?" Kate snapped.
"Don't you have people who can do that for you? Or have they all abandoned you now that you're only the comic relief?"
Gordo normally loved anyone taking Kate down a peg, especially when it was Lizzie or Miranda on the fighting end, but as much as he loved seeing the indignant expression on Kate's face, he didn't want his cast getting into anything hostile, so he stepped in quickly, throwing up his hands. "Ladies, retract your claws, okay? Save some of this passion for the stage, and everyone benefits."
Kate fixed her glare on him instead, but after a second or two in which it was apparent that he wasn't planning on getting involved more intensely than director/mediator, she sighed resignedly. "*Fine*, whatever," Kate huffed. "Catch you on the flip, losers," she said with a toss of her hair and started away.
Miranda, however, wasn't going to settle this when she hadn't won. "You seem to be missing Ethan, hmm?" she called.
Kate stopped dead, whirled around so fast that her own hair whipped her in the face, and stared Miranda down with such a death glare that even Gordo swallowed hard. "Watch yourself, Sanchez, you're just an understudy," she spat, and flounced off again.
"Five seconds ago, she was about to lick your shoes to be an understudy," Miranda remarked, biting into her pizza.
Gordo sighed. "I'm not getting paid enough for this." He rubbed at his temple, which was suddenly throbbing.
"You're not getting paid at all," Miranda said, clearly not having noticed his desperate tone.
Gordo didn't know which was the worse part, that Miranda didn't care, or that she was absolutely right.
~~~~~
Meanwhile, Lizzie was nodding stupidly while Ethan chatted away about golf. Lizzie, having attempted golf on several occasions when she was first trying to get Ethan's attention, had found it to be more dull and boring than the annual gnome convention her father dragged her to every year. So her attention was wavering, and when Larry Tudgeman came to a stop in front of them, she was so thrilled for a break in the conversation (more of a monologue, really), that she could have hugged him.
She didn't, of course. It was Larry Tudgeman.
"Hey, Lizzie," Tudgeman said warmly, then noting her companion, added with considerably less emotion, "Ethan."
"Tudgeman!" Ethan proclaimed, for Ethan liked everyone.
"Hey, Larry, what's up?" Lizzie said, smiling.
"I was just wondering if you had the next period free..." he said. "I was hoping we could work on the final number, since we don't have practice tonight."
"We don't?" Lizzie said, then pulled the schedule out of her back jeans pocket where she kept it for double- and triple-checking, unfolded it, and realized that today *was* their day off. "Oh, wow, we don't," she said, refolding the paper and jamming it back in her pocket. She shrugged and smiled. "Yeah, I just have study hall next period. I'm glad you asked--I was super-worried about the finale, and wanted to practice it with you *without* Gordo breathing down my neck."
"He's a bit overzealous, isn't he?" Larry agreed.
Lizzie nodded, but she felt guilty for even thinking about putting down her best friend, so she quickly added, "Well, he's really stressed. He practically lives in the auditorium."
"He doesn't live there next period, I checked. He has AP English, and Mr. Dig said we could borrow the stage if we so direly needed."
"We direly do," Lizzie said, and they laughed.
Ethan looked back and forth between them, looking confused (which was normal for him). "What's going on?"
"OH!" Lizzie said, just now remembering that she'd been walking with Ethan. "Um, Ethan, Larry and I are going to the auditorium to rehearse. I'll see you later, okay?"
Larry raised an eyebrow.
Ethan nodded. "Cool. I'll see you in history."
"You bet," she said cheerfully, and grabbed Tudgeman's arm, leading him down the hallway.
"Not that I *mind* or anything, but just so you know, I didn't necessarily mean now," Tudgeman said, bewildered.
"Yeah, sorry about that, but I just had to get out of there, you know? Ethan was so blah blah blah about golf, and I could really care less."
"I thought you were head-over-heels for Ethan just like all the others," Larry said.
"Well, I--I am," Lizzie stammered, suddenly uncertain. "And he seems like he might actually be interested in me, you know? This makes, like, the third day in a row where he's wanted to hang out with me at lunch, and he totally blew off Kate twice now to sit with *me*, and..." Lizzie paused for breath, then realized she wasn't sure what else to say. "I dunno. It's just weird, is all, I think that maybe he might like me a little."
"How could he not?" Larry said flippantly, pushing the door to the auditorium open and holding it so she could go through. "Ah, just as I suspected, empty."
"Is there any way we can bolt the door, so no one can walk in on us?" Lizzie asked, making her way down the aisle.
"Okay, you *do* realize that you have the starring role in the school's musical, and that pretty much everyone *will* see you do this routine," Larry pointed out.
"Yeah, but that'll be when I'm good," she said. She ducked backstage, rifled through the prop cabinet, and pulled out the spare Grease soundtrack CD that they used for practices. She popped it into the CD player while Larry flipped some switches, shedding light on the stage.
Lizzie grabbed the remote, met Larry in the center of the stage. "Dancing first, then singing?" she asked.
"Sounds like a plan."
Lizzie pressed the button and let the music wash over them.