This is the most glorious day of her entire life, I announced to Lizzie and Gordo, who sat beside me. Lizzie and I were staring longingly at the girls waltzing around the ballroom in their frilly, lace-covered pink and white dresses. Gordo was less than interested, devouring a bowl of tortilla chips on the table in front of him. Come to think of it, I feel kinda bad for inviting Gordo. I guess after he puts up with all our girl-talk on the threeway every day of our lives, I soon begin to forget that he's a guy, too.

The girl I was referring to was Annabella, my mother's coworker's daughter. She, too, was Mexican-American, and today was her quinceanera, her Sweet Fifteen.

And I know that whenever I mention it, people think I mean Sweet Sixteen, and then end up thinking I'm some thickheaded nitwit, but I assure you, I'm not. I know what I'm talking about. I've only been dreaming about my own Sweet Fifteen for...oh, I don't know...fifteen years?!

In Mexico, girls celebrated their fifteenth birthday with a mass and a party afterwards. It's actually a lot like a bat mitzvah. I thought this was a clever comparison. I tried it on Gordo but he said it's different. How is it different? After your quinceanera, you're considered a woman. After your bat mitzvah, you're considered a woman. Gordo just wants to prove me wrong.

And when I gazed over at Annabella liked I had been for the past few minutes, it was so hard to believe that only a couple years ago, we were doing cannonballs into the pool together at company picnics. And now...she was a woman.

I wouldn't care so much about keeping up these traditions if they hadn't been forced on me by my abuela from such a young age. Ohhh, one day, you will have your quinceanera, with a fiesta grande afterwards! And I will doll you up into the dress I wore, and you will look muy bonita, niña. And now, finally, the day was almost here. I was 14, going on 15 in only a few more weeks. Twenty-six days, to be exact.

The funniest thing was, I always imagined that in the weeks before my 15th birthday, I would actually start to feel like a woman. But now that it's here, I...I still feel like a little kid. Will I ever grow up? Certain biological events' have occured that should signify that I'm officially label me as a woman...if we were living in the 17th century. Womanly? The thought of finally being a woman makes me want to curl up in the fetal position and die. Sure, the party was nice. Dressing up was cool. Getting presents was awesome. But if I actually took a second to think about it, it's a big step. In my culture, it's practically the climax of your life. Everything before and after means nothing.

Oh no. I'm actually starting to sound like Gordo a couple years ago, when he wanted to go back and celebrate his bar mitzvah. Lizzie's so lucky. She doesn't have to deal with any of this. She's the one that's allowed to grow up gradually over the years. But me? No, I have to become a woman within a 30 minute mass.

Gosh, Miranda, I hope you get one of these, Lizzie cooed, referring to the party we were at. You are so lucky to actually have a culture with real traditions. Gordo gets his bar mitzvah, Miranda gets her quinceanera, and I, Lizzie McGuire, get nothing. And it's all because I'm a European mutt.

Lizzie, having a mixed background is nothing to be ashamed of. It's what makes you interesting, Gordo explained. Besides, you really don't know how lucky you have it.

Yeah, Lizzie, I agreed. You're a heck of a lot less likely to be called a racial slur.

But you guys don't know how lucky you have it. When someone asks me, What's your heritage?', I would love to give a one-word answer, not rattle off half the countries in Europe. Lizzie sighed. I guess the grass really is always greener on the other side.

Trust me, chica, I said, patting Lizzie on the back, one day, your grass will be green. At this, she turned back to me and smiled widely.

Thanks, Miranda. I do not know what I would do without you, she said, holding back a squeal.

Of course, I didn't mention that her grass was already blindingly green, because that's not a very friendly thing to do.

Lizzie was one of the most oblivious people in the world. Seriously, she's up there with Ethan Craft! She just cannot get it through her thick skull how well-liked and popular she truly is. Why did Ethan Craft ask her to hold his murder mystery party (or so she tells me)? Because he likes her. (More than a friend? I don't know. But he does like her.) Why, out of the three of us, does Kate make fun of Lizzie the most? Because Kate feels threatened. And why does Kate feel threatened? Because she's afraid that Ethan make like Lizzie more than Kate. But does Lizzie realize any of this? Nope, she's still wallowing in pity because her life is so miserable. If Lizzie's life is miserable, I don't think there are any words in the English dictionary that describe MY life.

But for some reason, Lizzie's unwordly innocence seems kind of cute. I mean, it's almost like when you look at a kindergartner struggling to read a few words in a picture book, and you just think, Awww! I remember when I was like that!

And then there's the whole Gordo thing. It would be cute if it was the way it was a long while ago...BOTH of them being oblivious. But now it's so vexing when I see Gordo subtly dropping hints, and Lizzie does not pick them up in the least. How blind can a person get? I feel so horrible for Gordo. Though he tries not to show it, I know he's hurting inside. Sometimes, it just makes me want to scream at Lizzie, YOUR BEST FRIEND, DAVID GORDON, IS IN LOVE WITH YOU!

But I don't even know what happened in Rome. I'm thinking it was pretttty big, considering everytime I ask about it, they both blush furiously and refuse to say a word. But taking a look at all the evidence: Lizzie blushing, Lizzie not talking about it, Lizzie no longer having a crush on Ethan Craft. I have known Lizzie TOO long...TOO LONG to be so easily duped. She is boy-crazy. She got kissed by Aaron Carter? Wouldn't stop talking about it for days. She got her first boyfriend? Wouldn't stop talking about it for days. She went out with Frankie Muniz? Wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks. There is no way Lizzie McGuire is crush-less right now. Which leads me to one conclusion..

Lizzie likes Gordo.

And it's obvious Gordo likes Lizzie.

Now if only they'd admit it to each other.

I look around aimlessly. If only we could do something here. It's so boring, eating and watching people dance. I sighed, and continued eating pretzels out of the bowl.

I wondered for a second...if I had my quinceanera, who would be MY escort? It would have to be someone attractive. Someone that would make every other girl in the room completely drop their jaws in jealousy. An absolute, 100% hotty.

This may take a while.

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[A/N: Eh, this is based extremely loosely on this movie we're watching in Spanish class called . Yes, I was actually inspired by something in school. The one good thing Mrs. Niemann has done all year.

And just because there was a lot about L/G in this, don't think that the whole plot is going to be about getting Lizzie and Gordo together. They may not even get together. You just don't know with me.

Lemme know what you think: please review. Thanks!]