Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews! This is a short chapter, but I
wanted to get it up since I haven't updated it in awhile. This chapter
explains the meaning of "mouse stuck on hand." And you all were right. . .
Gordo was Adam Gerbalm all along!
This chapter continues from David's point of view, and then switches to Lizzie's POV. Please read and review!
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David entered the chatroom as "Adam Gerbalm." He created the username as an homage to his favorite uncle, Adam Lamberg. As a small child, his uncle often would take him to baseball games at Dodger stadium, which he absolutely loved, and so he only had the fondest memories of being with his uncle Adam. When he decided a few weeks ago to use his uncle's name as his username, he scrambled the letters of his uncle's last name to protect his uncle's privacy, and thus, Adam Gerbalm was born.
As soon as he entered the chatroom, David felt like leaving immediately. The chatters were not being very responsive to his questions, and he was also getting very annoyed by HotDude2000's incessantly ridiculous posts.
David was about to log off when a user named "Hilary Duff" asked him a question. He responded, and from that moment, he felt an instant connection with Hilary Duff. It was odd, but as they began chatting, he felt a rapport with her that reminded him very much of the connection he shared with Lizzie. He felt himself instantly at ease with her, even though he had no idea what she looked like or what she was really like in real life. He felt an incredibly urge to flirt with Hilary, as if a mysterious force was instilling him with a confidence that he lacked in his normal interactions with women. He normally had a difficult time expressing his feelings for women that he was attracted to. He knew his shyness with women stemmed from an intense fear of rejection, an intense fear of having his feelings un-reciprocated.
As he kept chatting with Hilary Duff, he began to feel himself increasingly attracted to her. This is really weird, thought David, I'm starting to feel things for some strange woman that I only know through her words. . . it doesn't make any sense. But. . . there's just something about her that stirs my heart, just like the way Lizzie stirs my heart. . .
David closed his eyes to try to sort out his confusion . . .he was finding himself intrigued and attracted to Hilary Duff, yet, oddly, at the same time, he was finding himself thinking about and missing his friend Lizzie, wondering where she was, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice, to see her soulful eyes, and to feel her beautiful smile. Why, when I'm starting to connect with a sweet, charming woman, why can't I but help think about Lizzie?
What was worse, David found himself telling Hilary about his feelings for Lizzie, about how he has loved her since elementary school, about the stupid fight they had six months ago. This is stupid, this is stupid, Gordo, what are you doing? You don't tell a woman you're attracted to how much you're in love with someone else!!
But, David couldn't help it. . . he just found himself pouring his heart out to Hilary, telling her about his unrequited love for his best friend. He didn't tell her Lizzie's real name, though, because he was very careful about protecting the privacy of his friends.
As he was becoming more and more immersed with his online conversation with Hilary, he suddenly found himself asking Hilary if she would talk with him privately, via instant messaging. It was as if he were possessed by a spirit, a spirit that was forcing David to tap into the untapped confidence that he always had in him. Hilary was definitely bringing out a part of him that had long been dormant within. It was as if he were undergoing a transformation . . .he felt himself starting to become the person he was always wanted to be. . .
As he continued to chat with Hilary, he suddenly heard a knocking at his hotel room door. This must be room service, thought David. He told Hilary that he would be right back, then picked himself up and answered the door. Room service had brought up his pancakes with huckleberry syrup, on the house. David took the tray of food and set it down on his desk. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He still wanted to keep chatting with Hilary, so he figured he'd eat and chat at the same time.
As he was about to pour the huckleberry syrup over his pancakes, David first picked up his little figurine, which was resting next to his laptop, and brought it close to his eyes. It was a little ritual that he has performed every once in a while, whenever he was especially missing Lizzie .. . he would take the little mouse, stare into its tiny, deep blue eyes, reminisce about Lizzie, and then return it back into his pants pocket.
The little figurine was a plastic mouse, a toy that Lizzie had given to him when they were in the fourth grade. They were at the school's annual carnival, and Lizzie, out of the blue, told Gordo, "Gordo, I like you. I want to give you this."
After handing the mouse to Gordo, Lizzie leaned over and kissed Gordo on the cheek. "You're my best friend, Gordo."
Gordo blushed, and returned Lizzie's kiss with a kiss of his own, planted square on her rosy cheeks. "Me, too, Lizzie. You're my best friend. I'm gonna keep this forever." With that, the two friends took each other's hand and walked around the carnival grounds, content with the youthful joy of being with one's best friend.
As David remembered the day that Lizzie had given him the little mouse figurine, he picked it up to put it back in his pants pocket. But, just as soon as he had picked up the mouse, he was overwhelmed with a sudden, out of the blue desire to sneeze, and when he did, he lost hold of the mouse and it fell into the huckleberry syrup container.
Startled to see his mouse starting to drown in huckleberry sauce, David, without thinking, instinctively grabbed the container, shoved his hand inside, and grabbed the mouse with his right hand.
Yeaooww!! That's hot! yelped David.
He was able to save the figurine from drowning, but now, the little mouse was firmly on his hand, as the sticky syrup had it practically glued to his palm. What was I thinking? thought David. He had buried his hand in the huckleberry sauce to "save' the mouse Lizzie had given him, as if the "life" of his mouse depended on it.
David was about to head to the bathroom to clean his hands, when he realized that he been keeping Hilary waiting for an inordinate amount of time. With his one clean hand, he slowly typed, "mouse stuck on hand. Brb." Then he headed towards the bathroom to clean his hand, and to "unstuck" his little mouse. As he was washing his hands, all he could do was think about how foolish he felt, because, for a brief moment, he actually was starting to believe in the old man's prophecy. Great, I order pancakes with huckleberry syrup hoping to fulfill my destiny, and I just end up with my hand covered with syrup. Well, at least I can tell Hilary about it. . . it'll be a good laugh for her.
When David had cleaned his hands and had gotten the syrup off of his mouse, he returned to his computer and began to tell Hilary what had just happened to him.
********************************************************
Lizzie read Adam explain to her why he had typed "mouse stuck on hand," and she slowly began to realize the truth. . .. Adam was *Gordo*. When he told her that his best friend had given the little mouse figurine in fourth grade, she was instantly flooded with memories of that bright, sunny day in fourth grade, when she was with Gordo at her school carnival. A few weeks before that day, she had started to develop a crush on her friend, and at the carnival, she wanted nothing more than to show him how she felt about him. She remembered in vivid, colorful detail the moment she gave Gordo the little mouse. . . it was something that she had treasured with all her heart, because it was a keepsake that her grandmother had given to her for her birthday.
She also remembered, as if it happened yesterday, the moment she reached over to kiss him on his cheeks, and the moment that he returned her kiss with a kiss on her cheeks.
Ohmigosh . . . Adam is Gordo. It's Gordo, I'm chatting with Gordo, thought Lizzie. Gordo is my Adam . . .
This chapter continues from David's point of view, and then switches to Lizzie's POV. Please read and review!
____________________________________________________________________
David entered the chatroom as "Adam Gerbalm." He created the username as an homage to his favorite uncle, Adam Lamberg. As a small child, his uncle often would take him to baseball games at Dodger stadium, which he absolutely loved, and so he only had the fondest memories of being with his uncle Adam. When he decided a few weeks ago to use his uncle's name as his username, he scrambled the letters of his uncle's last name to protect his uncle's privacy, and thus, Adam Gerbalm was born.
As soon as he entered the chatroom, David felt like leaving immediately. The chatters were not being very responsive to his questions, and he was also getting very annoyed by HotDude2000's incessantly ridiculous posts.
David was about to log off when a user named "Hilary Duff" asked him a question. He responded, and from that moment, he felt an instant connection with Hilary Duff. It was odd, but as they began chatting, he felt a rapport with her that reminded him very much of the connection he shared with Lizzie. He felt himself instantly at ease with her, even though he had no idea what she looked like or what she was really like in real life. He felt an incredibly urge to flirt with Hilary, as if a mysterious force was instilling him with a confidence that he lacked in his normal interactions with women. He normally had a difficult time expressing his feelings for women that he was attracted to. He knew his shyness with women stemmed from an intense fear of rejection, an intense fear of having his feelings un-reciprocated.
As he kept chatting with Hilary Duff, he began to feel himself increasingly attracted to her. This is really weird, thought David, I'm starting to feel things for some strange woman that I only know through her words. . . it doesn't make any sense. But. . . there's just something about her that stirs my heart, just like the way Lizzie stirs my heart. . .
David closed his eyes to try to sort out his confusion . . .he was finding himself intrigued and attracted to Hilary Duff, yet, oddly, at the same time, he was finding himself thinking about and missing his friend Lizzie, wondering where she was, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice, to see her soulful eyes, and to feel her beautiful smile. Why, when I'm starting to connect with a sweet, charming woman, why can't I but help think about Lizzie?
What was worse, David found himself telling Hilary about his feelings for Lizzie, about how he has loved her since elementary school, about the stupid fight they had six months ago. This is stupid, this is stupid, Gordo, what are you doing? You don't tell a woman you're attracted to how much you're in love with someone else!!
But, David couldn't help it. . . he just found himself pouring his heart out to Hilary, telling her about his unrequited love for his best friend. He didn't tell her Lizzie's real name, though, because he was very careful about protecting the privacy of his friends.
As he was becoming more and more immersed with his online conversation with Hilary, he suddenly found himself asking Hilary if she would talk with him privately, via instant messaging. It was as if he were possessed by a spirit, a spirit that was forcing David to tap into the untapped confidence that he always had in him. Hilary was definitely bringing out a part of him that had long been dormant within. It was as if he were undergoing a transformation . . .he felt himself starting to become the person he was always wanted to be. . .
As he continued to chat with Hilary, he suddenly heard a knocking at his hotel room door. This must be room service, thought David. He told Hilary that he would be right back, then picked himself up and answered the door. Room service had brought up his pancakes with huckleberry syrup, on the house. David took the tray of food and set it down on his desk. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. He still wanted to keep chatting with Hilary, so he figured he'd eat and chat at the same time.
As he was about to pour the huckleberry syrup over his pancakes, David first picked up his little figurine, which was resting next to his laptop, and brought it close to his eyes. It was a little ritual that he has performed every once in a while, whenever he was especially missing Lizzie .. . he would take the little mouse, stare into its tiny, deep blue eyes, reminisce about Lizzie, and then return it back into his pants pocket.
The little figurine was a plastic mouse, a toy that Lizzie had given to him when they were in the fourth grade. They were at the school's annual carnival, and Lizzie, out of the blue, told Gordo, "Gordo, I like you. I want to give you this."
After handing the mouse to Gordo, Lizzie leaned over and kissed Gordo on the cheek. "You're my best friend, Gordo."
Gordo blushed, and returned Lizzie's kiss with a kiss of his own, planted square on her rosy cheeks. "Me, too, Lizzie. You're my best friend. I'm gonna keep this forever." With that, the two friends took each other's hand and walked around the carnival grounds, content with the youthful joy of being with one's best friend.
As David remembered the day that Lizzie had given him the little mouse figurine, he picked it up to put it back in his pants pocket. But, just as soon as he had picked up the mouse, he was overwhelmed with a sudden, out of the blue desire to sneeze, and when he did, he lost hold of the mouse and it fell into the huckleberry syrup container.
Startled to see his mouse starting to drown in huckleberry sauce, David, without thinking, instinctively grabbed the container, shoved his hand inside, and grabbed the mouse with his right hand.
Yeaooww!! That's hot! yelped David.
He was able to save the figurine from drowning, but now, the little mouse was firmly on his hand, as the sticky syrup had it practically glued to his palm. What was I thinking? thought David. He had buried his hand in the huckleberry sauce to "save' the mouse Lizzie had given him, as if the "life" of his mouse depended on it.
David was about to head to the bathroom to clean his hands, when he realized that he been keeping Hilary waiting for an inordinate amount of time. With his one clean hand, he slowly typed, "mouse stuck on hand. Brb." Then he headed towards the bathroom to clean his hand, and to "unstuck" his little mouse. As he was washing his hands, all he could do was think about how foolish he felt, because, for a brief moment, he actually was starting to believe in the old man's prophecy. Great, I order pancakes with huckleberry syrup hoping to fulfill my destiny, and I just end up with my hand covered with syrup. Well, at least I can tell Hilary about it. . . it'll be a good laugh for her.
When David had cleaned his hands and had gotten the syrup off of his mouse, he returned to his computer and began to tell Hilary what had just happened to him.
********************************************************
Lizzie read Adam explain to her why he had typed "mouse stuck on hand," and she slowly began to realize the truth. . .. Adam was *Gordo*. When he told her that his best friend had given the little mouse figurine in fourth grade, she was instantly flooded with memories of that bright, sunny day in fourth grade, when she was with Gordo at her school carnival. A few weeks before that day, she had started to develop a crush on her friend, and at the carnival, she wanted nothing more than to show him how she felt about him. She remembered in vivid, colorful detail the moment she gave Gordo the little mouse. . . it was something that she had treasured with all her heart, because it was a keepsake that her grandmother had given to her for her birthday.
She also remembered, as if it happened yesterday, the moment she reached over to kiss him on his cheeks, and the moment that he returned her kiss with a kiss on her cheeks.
Ohmigosh . . . Adam is Gordo. It's Gordo, I'm chatting with Gordo, thought Lizzie. Gordo is my Adam . . .