Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, I don't own the characters, blah blah blah.

 

~Chapter 8~

"Oh, there you are, Lizzie. We were wondering what was keeping you. Was there a line? I'll bet there was a line. There's always a line. Anyway, here, we got your ticket. Now. Your father and Matt and I are up in first class, and since we transferred your tickets from a different flight, you and David are in coach class. But don't worry; we made sure you're sitting next to each other. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, mom. Great. Thanks." She took her boarding pass and left.

Gordo was sitting over by the gate, looking moody. She hesitantly walked over and sat down in the chair next to him. "H-hey."

He looked up. He smiled at her. A fake smile. Come on, Gordo, you can do this. Just be nice, be nice, this is just as weird for her as is it for you, just as awkward. "Hey."

Seeming strengthened by his response, Lizzie said, "So, what's up?"

"Oh, you know, nothing." He laughed. Fake laugh. Happy, happy, smile, don't let on that you're biting a hole through your tongue, everything's goin' great in Gordo-Land, repress the bitter thoughts, ignore the bubble of hateful things rising up in you.

"Coolie," Lizzie said, perhaps faking her happy mood, too? Of course, she was faking it. He could read her better than anyone else. Hadn't he made her cry? Her face was still faintly tear-stained. He studied her: her eyes held a mixture of sadness, regret, fear – fear? What had she to fear? She was in no danger.

Oh. It's me. She's afraid of me. She's afraid of me and my reaction to her. Why? Is she going to say something she thinks I'm going to react badly to?

"So, you, um, wanna talk?"

Bingo.

"I—" Calm. Calm. Be polite. Be nice. If anything, be cool. Don't be cold, don't be hot, angry. "No." Blunt, very blunt. "No, I don't. I do not want to talk."

Fear? Yup, she had a right to fear.

So did he. He didn't even recognize his own behavior.

I wonder why…Never mind. It's a 14-hour plane ride. I'll have plenty of time to analyze this anger of mine.

"Oh – oh – okay. Tha-that's fine. We can just – talk, um, later, or – um –" She got up and walked away, hand pressed to her face. Tears again.

I really am some kind of monster.

Bad, Gordo. Baaaad, Gordo.

Sigh. If only I knew why my overwhelming love for her comes out as hate.

A Note: Don't worry. Gordo hasn't been possessed by a demon or anything. You'll see.