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Miranda stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room at school. The white dress was strapless and trimmed in gold satin. She looked absolutely stunning, the dress hugged all the right places, the snowy, glittering fabric brushed the floor. Sighing happily, she twirled.
"Honey," her mother exclaimed. "How do you expect me to make sure it is finished, if you keep spinning?"
"I can't help it," she smiled, then the smile slowly faded. "It's beautiful."
Her mind wandered to a place where she had forbidden it to go, to Gordo, she hadn't talked to him since the rehearsal. She was worried, and she had reason to be. Lizzie was completely freaking out, and Gordo, well that was self explanatory.
"What is it?" her mother asked.
"Gordo."
Her mother nodded as she pulled at the top. "Is he not here today?"
"No, and he didn't answer the phone when I called at lunch."
"He maybe at the doctor's, or maybe just resting."
Miranda ran her hands down the front of the fabric, wishing her life was as smooth as the satin.
Her mother stood up. "Be careful in that dress, don't get anything on it, I'll be at home if you need me."
She nodded, watching her hurry out the door. Her eyes danced back to the mirror, she grabbed a clip and pulled her hair into a messy French twist. To occupy her mind she began her vocal warm ups. She was absorbed in her own world and didn't hear the door open or see her best friend standing inches behind her.
"Lizzie!" she exclaimed, jumping back. "You scared me."
"Sorry," the blonde replied softly. "Rehearsals are about to start."
Miranda nodded. She wished she could find the words to stop Lizzie from beating herself up, but she'd tried last night for over two hours. Lizzie regretted not telling Gordo how she felt. Why she didn't tell him, both girls could only begin to guess.
"Lizzie, there's always tonight to tell him."
"You don't understand," Lizzie sighed. "I don't-I can't-it's hard to explain."
"Lizzie," Miranda stated slowly. "You have-if you don't-"
"Miranda!" she interrupted fiercely. "Don't you think I know this already!? I can't explain what is wrong with me. I just know that when I see him, I look at him, and I know that he's dying."
Miranda's stomach twisted violently at the mention of the word she refused to say.
"And that just locks me up, I can't say anything, it's all I can do not to cry!"
"Lizzie-"
"There's just no time, it's like everything has sped up, and we can't stop it! I want nothing more than a deceive that will just freeze time. And then, we won't have to worry about anything, because it will just be us locked in that moment," her voice cracked and tears slid down her face.
Miranda reached out and pulled her close. Lizzie buried her head in her friend's shoulder. She gently rubbed her back. Gordo was right once again, she was the strong one. She was literally Lizzie's shoulder to cry on. As she gently leaned her head against her friend's she wondered how Lizzie would pull through this, if at all. But for now, she said nothing, that was too far ahead to think. All she had now were these precious moments that she would not let go of.
***
Gordo stared at the ceiling a cold washcloth on his head. Only minutes ago, he'd been freezing, now he was sweating. The visit to the doctor's was hell, the treatment was hell, everything was hell anymore. Except when he could escape and have a few precious moment with Lizzie and Miranda. Then, for that short time, he would forget about the raging battle in his body, and it would be all right.
"How are you feeling?" His mother asked, peering around the door.
'Like I'm dying,' was the reply on his lips, then he realized how pathetically serious that statement was and forced a smile. "Better."
"Do you need anything?" she asked, watching him.
"No, I'm okay." Such simple lies, they flowed so easily now. He had no problem staring into someone's eyes and blatantly lying. It was easier than to have them fawn over him. It was easier than to watch their faces of pity. There was nothing they could do, and he didn't want them to feel like they were obligated to ease his pain when they couldn't.
"Are you up to visitors?"
"Who is it?"
"Lizzie."
His heart leapt when he heard her name. "Send her on up."
He laid the washcloth on the table beside him then eased himself into a sitting position. He knew that his skin was still its pasty color, he couldn't lose it once he'd started the treatments. Before he could reminisce more the bedroom door opened and a familiar blonde head peered slowly around.
"Hey," she smiled, walking into the room, shutting the door behind her. "How you feeling?"
Why couldn't anyone ask him a different question than that? "I'm good. How are you?"
Lizzie walked over and sat beside him on the bed. "I can't complain."
He smiled, then glanced down at his blanket, suddenly at a complete loss for words.
"About yesterday," she began.
"Lizzie, you don't have to talk about it."
"Yes, I do. I want to." Her hand grabbed his and she squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry for leaving. I wasn't thinking about you, or what you've been going through, I only thought of myself at that exact moment, and how much telling you how I felt would scare me."
He felt the bitter taste of resentment bubbling up in his throat at the mention of 'what he'd been going through.' It seemed like everyone's reaction to anything now had to link directly to the leukemia. Biting down on his lip, he refused to say anything.
But Lizzie wasn't looking for him to talk. Now that she had started, the words just poured forth. "I thought that I'd worked up everything I had when I kissed you at Miranda's. But when I did that, I didn't have to talk, I just had to let you fill in the blanks. But when you asked me yesterday how I felt my mind would have to process it first, and I guess I haven't completely done that yet. So the idea of it literally made me run. Now though, I've had plenty of time to think about it. And, Gordo, now that I've got it figured out in my head, I can't say it. There aren't words to describe how I feel when you look at me and smile. Nothing will ever detail the way my heart melts at the sound of your voice," her tone faltered now and she took a deep breath, then looked into his eyes and turned more towards him. "Well, there is a word, but, I didn't think I knew what it meant, but after a lot of thinking, I've realized that the only thing that can even come close to entailing how I feel is love. I love you, Gordo. Not just as a friend, but as the person who completes. I love you with all my heart David Gordon."
He tenderly ran his hand over the back of her head, staring into her eyes. He leaned closer and kissed her. There wasn't a need for words.
As his head and body began to protest from the motion, he gently pulled away, but kept her hand firmly grasped. "I love you too, Elizabeth McGuire."
As if things weren't complicated enough, now this. But he wouldn't change it for the world.
Miranda stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room at school. The white dress was strapless and trimmed in gold satin. She looked absolutely stunning, the dress hugged all the right places, the snowy, glittering fabric brushed the floor. Sighing happily, she twirled.
"Honey," her mother exclaimed. "How do you expect me to make sure it is finished, if you keep spinning?"
"I can't help it," she smiled, then the smile slowly faded. "It's beautiful."
Her mind wandered to a place where she had forbidden it to go, to Gordo, she hadn't talked to him since the rehearsal. She was worried, and she had reason to be. Lizzie was completely freaking out, and Gordo, well that was self explanatory.
"What is it?" her mother asked.
"Gordo."
Her mother nodded as she pulled at the top. "Is he not here today?"
"No, and he didn't answer the phone when I called at lunch."
"He maybe at the doctor's, or maybe just resting."
Miranda ran her hands down the front of the fabric, wishing her life was as smooth as the satin.
Her mother stood up. "Be careful in that dress, don't get anything on it, I'll be at home if you need me."
She nodded, watching her hurry out the door. Her eyes danced back to the mirror, she grabbed a clip and pulled her hair into a messy French twist. To occupy her mind she began her vocal warm ups. She was absorbed in her own world and didn't hear the door open or see her best friend standing inches behind her.
"Lizzie!" she exclaimed, jumping back. "You scared me."
"Sorry," the blonde replied softly. "Rehearsals are about to start."
Miranda nodded. She wished she could find the words to stop Lizzie from beating herself up, but she'd tried last night for over two hours. Lizzie regretted not telling Gordo how she felt. Why she didn't tell him, both girls could only begin to guess.
"Lizzie, there's always tonight to tell him."
"You don't understand," Lizzie sighed. "I don't-I can't-it's hard to explain."
"Lizzie," Miranda stated slowly. "You have-if you don't-"
"Miranda!" she interrupted fiercely. "Don't you think I know this already!? I can't explain what is wrong with me. I just know that when I see him, I look at him, and I know that he's dying."
Miranda's stomach twisted violently at the mention of the word she refused to say.
"And that just locks me up, I can't say anything, it's all I can do not to cry!"
"Lizzie-"
"There's just no time, it's like everything has sped up, and we can't stop it! I want nothing more than a deceive that will just freeze time. And then, we won't have to worry about anything, because it will just be us locked in that moment," her voice cracked and tears slid down her face.
Miranda reached out and pulled her close. Lizzie buried her head in her friend's shoulder. She gently rubbed her back. Gordo was right once again, she was the strong one. She was literally Lizzie's shoulder to cry on. As she gently leaned her head against her friend's she wondered how Lizzie would pull through this, if at all. But for now, she said nothing, that was too far ahead to think. All she had now were these precious moments that she would not let go of.
***
Gordo stared at the ceiling a cold washcloth on his head. Only minutes ago, he'd been freezing, now he was sweating. The visit to the doctor's was hell, the treatment was hell, everything was hell anymore. Except when he could escape and have a few precious moment with Lizzie and Miranda. Then, for that short time, he would forget about the raging battle in his body, and it would be all right.
"How are you feeling?" His mother asked, peering around the door.
'Like I'm dying,' was the reply on his lips, then he realized how pathetically serious that statement was and forced a smile. "Better."
"Do you need anything?" she asked, watching him.
"No, I'm okay." Such simple lies, they flowed so easily now. He had no problem staring into someone's eyes and blatantly lying. It was easier than to have them fawn over him. It was easier than to watch their faces of pity. There was nothing they could do, and he didn't want them to feel like they were obligated to ease his pain when they couldn't.
"Are you up to visitors?"
"Who is it?"
"Lizzie."
His heart leapt when he heard her name. "Send her on up."
He laid the washcloth on the table beside him then eased himself into a sitting position. He knew that his skin was still its pasty color, he couldn't lose it once he'd started the treatments. Before he could reminisce more the bedroom door opened and a familiar blonde head peered slowly around.
"Hey," she smiled, walking into the room, shutting the door behind her. "How you feeling?"
Why couldn't anyone ask him a different question than that? "I'm good. How are you?"
Lizzie walked over and sat beside him on the bed. "I can't complain."
He smiled, then glanced down at his blanket, suddenly at a complete loss for words.
"About yesterday," she began.
"Lizzie, you don't have to talk about it."
"Yes, I do. I want to." Her hand grabbed his and she squeezed tightly. "I'm sorry for leaving. I wasn't thinking about you, or what you've been going through, I only thought of myself at that exact moment, and how much telling you how I felt would scare me."
He felt the bitter taste of resentment bubbling up in his throat at the mention of 'what he'd been going through.' It seemed like everyone's reaction to anything now had to link directly to the leukemia. Biting down on his lip, he refused to say anything.
But Lizzie wasn't looking for him to talk. Now that she had started, the words just poured forth. "I thought that I'd worked up everything I had when I kissed you at Miranda's. But when I did that, I didn't have to talk, I just had to let you fill in the blanks. But when you asked me yesterday how I felt my mind would have to process it first, and I guess I haven't completely done that yet. So the idea of it literally made me run. Now though, I've had plenty of time to think about it. And, Gordo, now that I've got it figured out in my head, I can't say it. There aren't words to describe how I feel when you look at me and smile. Nothing will ever detail the way my heart melts at the sound of your voice," her tone faltered now and she took a deep breath, then looked into his eyes and turned more towards him. "Well, there is a word, but, I didn't think I knew what it meant, but after a lot of thinking, I've realized that the only thing that can even come close to entailing how I feel is love. I love you, Gordo. Not just as a friend, but as the person who completes. I love you with all my heart David Gordon."
He tenderly ran his hand over the back of her head, staring into her eyes. He leaned closer and kissed her. There wasn't a need for words.
As his head and body began to protest from the motion, he gently pulled away, but kept her hand firmly grasped. "I love you too, Elizabeth McGuire."
As if things weren't complicated enough, now this. But he wouldn't change it for the world.