Lizzie took a sip of her iced tea and smiled at Gordo, who was only picking
at his salad, which had some unsavory looking meat in it. Gordo had only
picked a salad because he couldn't read the rest of the menu. However,
Lizzie did not seem to care. "So then we were like chasing each other
through the museum and the guards started yelling at us. And we were like,
"but sir, we didn't do anything. I mean, it was like totally cool."
"Sounds like fun." Gordo took a sip of water from his straw.
"So what did you do?"
"I learned all about the Italian artists and the wonderful plant life of Italy," he replied. "Much unlike you who was so excited about coming here. And now you are acting like you are back home when you really should be looking at the culture of Italy."
"I am looking at the culture of Italy," Lizzie insisted. "I was in a museum for two and a half hours."
"Lizzie, you are wasting your parents money."
"I hate it when you push your lips together and nod your head like that. Like you are totally right."
"I am," he replied, nodding his head. Lizzie turned the other way and slurped her spaghetti.
"Gordo, what is with you?" She asked, upset. "You have been acting like this since we got off the plane. Talk to me, Gordo."
"Lizzie, I don't know anymore. All you seem to care about here is Ethan, meeting other guys, and just fooling around in Rome and you are ignoring the fact that there is something between us or you just don't want to see it. You know, forget it." Gordo abruptly shot out from his chair and exited the restaurant. Lizzie did not follow him. She was left alone, the friendships she had with the other people in the room deceased long ago.
"Hey," a voice uttered behind Lizzie. Lizzie turned and stared disgusted. A guy she did not know very well stood behind her, wearing glasses and a crew cut, staring meekly at her with his head tipped down and one foot in front of the other. All at once she forgot about what Gordo had revealed to her.
"Uh, hi," Lizzie said.
"I'm Dave." He said, putting out his hand. Lizzie awkwardly shook his hand, taking into account how rough it was.
"Lizzie McGuire." She replied, giving him a slight grin. An awkward moment of silence sliced the air between them. "So. . ." she began.
"Look," he began. "I just wanted to come over because you looked kind of confused after David left you."
"David? Wh—oh, you mean Gordo."
"His name isn't David?" Dave furrowed his brow.
"Well, yeah, um, it is but, um, we call him Gordo," Lizzie explained. Dave laughed.
"That's funny," he chuckled, sitting down next to her.
"How do you know Gordo?" In fact, she thought to herself, why was this kid talking to her at all? In fact, he was not the kind of person she would talk to—even below Larry.
Although Larry was her friend. . .
"Everyone knows Gordo," Dave explained. He is one of the cool kids."
"Really?" Lizzie was surprised to hear him say that. Last time she had talked to Gordo about his social status he had moaned to her about how uncool he was, and how "cool" he thought that in itself was. And now this kid.
"I know that you think I am weird," he said, piercing into Lizzie's innermost thoughts. "But I think you could use a friend right about now."
"You know what?" Lizzie said, suddenly feeling less pessimistic. "You are right."
"So, did you parents make you go on this trip?"
"What, yours did?"
"I don't like airplanes," he admitted.
"Really." Lizzie contemplated this fact with interest and then pushed her hair back. "Usually guys aren't like that."
"Well, I am. My parents made me go and said that if I didn't, they wouldn't pay for college."
"You could have said you could get a scholarship."
"I won't get a scholarship." He said.
"Why?"
"I suck at school," he said. "I have a one point five g.p.a. I don't think it will get better as I go on."
"You don't know. Things could look up."
"Enough about me. Why did you go?" Lizzie got the distinct feeling that he did not believe her.
"I just wanted to see Rome for all that it is," Lizzie said dreamily.
"And to snag a guy, right?"
"Yeah. And to see the sites."
"I understand. I have two older sisters." Lizzie smiled appreciatively and signaled the waitress.
"Dos bebidas, por favor" (I can't speak Italian so pretend) she said. The waitress nodded and collected the drinks dutifully.
"Where—"
"I memorized the dictionary," she replied, staring into his eyes.
"Sounds like fun." Gordo took a sip of water from his straw.
"So what did you do?"
"I learned all about the Italian artists and the wonderful plant life of Italy," he replied. "Much unlike you who was so excited about coming here. And now you are acting like you are back home when you really should be looking at the culture of Italy."
"I am looking at the culture of Italy," Lizzie insisted. "I was in a museum for two and a half hours."
"Lizzie, you are wasting your parents money."
"I hate it when you push your lips together and nod your head like that. Like you are totally right."
"I am," he replied, nodding his head. Lizzie turned the other way and slurped her spaghetti.
"Gordo, what is with you?" She asked, upset. "You have been acting like this since we got off the plane. Talk to me, Gordo."
"Lizzie, I don't know anymore. All you seem to care about here is Ethan, meeting other guys, and just fooling around in Rome and you are ignoring the fact that there is something between us or you just don't want to see it. You know, forget it." Gordo abruptly shot out from his chair and exited the restaurant. Lizzie did not follow him. She was left alone, the friendships she had with the other people in the room deceased long ago.
"Hey," a voice uttered behind Lizzie. Lizzie turned and stared disgusted. A guy she did not know very well stood behind her, wearing glasses and a crew cut, staring meekly at her with his head tipped down and one foot in front of the other. All at once she forgot about what Gordo had revealed to her.
"Uh, hi," Lizzie said.
"I'm Dave." He said, putting out his hand. Lizzie awkwardly shook his hand, taking into account how rough it was.
"Lizzie McGuire." She replied, giving him a slight grin. An awkward moment of silence sliced the air between them. "So. . ." she began.
"Look," he began. "I just wanted to come over because you looked kind of confused after David left you."
"David? Wh—oh, you mean Gordo."
"His name isn't David?" Dave furrowed his brow.
"Well, yeah, um, it is but, um, we call him Gordo," Lizzie explained. Dave laughed.
"That's funny," he chuckled, sitting down next to her.
"How do you know Gordo?" In fact, she thought to herself, why was this kid talking to her at all? In fact, he was not the kind of person she would talk to—even below Larry.
Although Larry was her friend. . .
"Everyone knows Gordo," Dave explained. He is one of the cool kids."
"Really?" Lizzie was surprised to hear him say that. Last time she had talked to Gordo about his social status he had moaned to her about how uncool he was, and how "cool" he thought that in itself was. And now this kid.
"I know that you think I am weird," he said, piercing into Lizzie's innermost thoughts. "But I think you could use a friend right about now."
"You know what?" Lizzie said, suddenly feeling less pessimistic. "You are right."
"So, did you parents make you go on this trip?"
"What, yours did?"
"I don't like airplanes," he admitted.
"Really." Lizzie contemplated this fact with interest and then pushed her hair back. "Usually guys aren't like that."
"Well, I am. My parents made me go and said that if I didn't, they wouldn't pay for college."
"You could have said you could get a scholarship."
"I won't get a scholarship." He said.
"Why?"
"I suck at school," he said. "I have a one point five g.p.a. I don't think it will get better as I go on."
"You don't know. Things could look up."
"Enough about me. Why did you go?" Lizzie got the distinct feeling that he did not believe her.
"I just wanted to see Rome for all that it is," Lizzie said dreamily.
"And to snag a guy, right?"
"Yeah. And to see the sites."
"I understand. I have two older sisters." Lizzie smiled appreciatively and signaled the waitress.
"Dos bebidas, por favor" (I can't speak Italian so pretend) she said. The waitress nodded and collected the drinks dutifully.
"Where—"
"I memorized the dictionary," she replied, staring into his eyes.
