A/N: Another quick update. Not much else to say really, other than I hope
you're all enjoying it =)
--Lizzie--
Miranda wasn't a threat. Gordo had just overreacted. The plan, in Lizzie's opinion was virtually flawless. They just had the task of getting through it. They fought off Kate, easily. Seeing as *that* had been quite a momentous undertaking in the past few years, they had nothing to worry about.
Except one thing.
They walked, no longer holding hands, towards their next class. English. That was simple enough, they just had to be seen together- giggling, flirting, whispering. . .simple expressions that would get all the gossipers talking. Once the story made its way around, complete with a few alterations, as was always expected, it would be smooth sailing.
Except that one little thing. It kept popping up in her mind, mid-thought.
He walked in front of her, navigating a way through the crowd. Not that the back of his head was very attractive, he had a unique little, laid-back- type walk- the back of his head was attractive? She had studied his *walk*?
She shook her head. There it was again. Nagging, interrupting.
Gordo. . .was just Gordo. He wasn't. . .he was a friend who just happened to be helping her out of a tight situation. After all, it was important. She had a whole *four years* of high school ahead. Being tormented throughout those years was not exactly the foremost event she was looking forward to.
"Do you like this whole arrangement?" he asked floatily, turning around to face her for a moment as they walked.
"Excuse me?" she jumped, alarmed by his question.
"I said, do you like that coal assignment?" he repeated more clearly, to her, it seemed.
She shook her head again, trying to remember.
"I'll take that as a 'no' then," he continued, laughing all the while.
"No-" she stammered, "I just thought you said something else".
He turned to look at her again, frowning and almost looking as if he had something to say, but spun around again and moved on.
Lizzie followed him in silence. Perhaps she'd just not slept well- or- or the acoustics. Yes, that sounded right. The acoustics of the hall were bad. That made sense, "acoustics- of course," she mumbled aloud, not meaning for anyone to hear.
"What did you say?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I said, glue sticks. . .of course," she lied, blushing and attempting to quickly move the conversation, "yeah that coal assignment- wow. . .that's a real party there".
Gordo laughed and shook his head.
She liked that. He, among many, was the one that truly *got* her. He understood her and connected on her wavelength. She smiled, knowing he wouldn't see.
The bell rang. Students all around them began to lessen their chatter and sidled into their classes. Lizzie and Gordo were among them, moving as slowly as the crowd was, into English.
There stood Mr. Dig, their regular- their regular substitute teacher. The guy was undoubtedly intelligent in a multitude of fields, but he did have an air of creepiness about him. Not in a bad way, but in a distinctly Mr. Dig way. Lizzie hadn't quite figured him out.
"Class, good to see you all. . .again. . .for what? The forty-second time in a row?" Mr. Dig greeted, smiling in that bizarre way as usual.
Lizzie took up a seat next to Gordo and pulled out her schoolwork. At that moment she clicked, realising she hadn't completed the work that Mr. Dig had set the previous lesson.
Somehow, Gordo knew exactly what she was thinking. Her facial expression was a dead giveaway too.
"Did you finish those synonyms?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, looking at Mr. Dig.
She over at him slightly. He didn't look at her.
It only took seconds for Mr. Dig to scan the class and detect who had not kept up-to-date.
"Ms. McGuire, you're looking- stunned this morning. . ." Mr. Dig began, smiling sarcastically.
"Oh-" she fumbled, opening her book and pretending to find her work. Those few seconds were cleverly designed thinking time, to ensure a safe way out of the situation. . .but they weren't enough.
"Any problems with the work Ms. McGuire?" Mr. Dig persisted.
"Oh, well you know. . ." she smiled, forcing a laugh that came out more like a croak than anything that could be considered one's appreciation for humour.
"Enlighten me," Mr. Dig continued, smiling still, "question twenty-four was a particularly nasty one, wasn't it?"
"Yes sir, I believe it was," she answered, swallowing.
"What, *exactly* did *you* get for that one?" Mr. Dig pushed, looking down at her from the front of the class.
Lizzie froze, she had nothing.
"Any reason why you can't answer, Ms. McGuire?" Mr. Dig carried on, preparing for the final blow.
"I- uh-"
Gordo sprung up to his feet, "Mr. Dig, I haven't completed my work and Lizzie has been stalling for me," he began. The whole class spun around in every direction to see Gordo, "if you don't believe it, I have her work right here, which I was copying as you spoke," he finished, waving the paper with the work on it, for confirmation.
"Mr. *Gordon*?" Mr. Dig stumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It was wrong of me to do that, I know," Gordo finished.
"No- I- I'm just disappointed," Mr. Dig said, not at all sounding like he was disappointed, more as though he was confused.
Lizzie sat watching the whole commotion with her mouth open. Gordo didn't once look at her; that may have jeopardised the circumstances further. Still, the question stood as to why he had saved her.
There were expectations in their agreement: that they would act like a couple in front of the right people; go to the right places; do the right things. . . there was nothing in the agreement about going beyond the call of duty, just to stick to the plan.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to record this, Mr. Gordon," Mr. Dig said grimly.
Gordo nodded, defeated and sat down.
Lizzie was shocked. Gordo had sacrificed everything he had worked for in the past two years, to save her, from humiliation.
"Gordon, I want to see you after class too," Mr. Dig finished.
Everyone sat in total silence. Some knew *exactly* what they had witnessed, others were totally at a loss.
"Open your books to the page after- whatever we were doing a moment ago," Mr. Dig's voice trailed. To Lizzie, he too seemed shocked.
As soon as Mr. Dig turned around, Lizzie cocked her head to face Gordo, "what did you just do?" she whispered a little loudly.
Gordo looked at her, "it's okay- you can thank me later," he whispered at the same level. Some of the students surrounding the pair laughed.
Mr. Dig turned around, text book in one hand, chalk in the other, "is there something funny about the term *snorkflats*?"
Everyone remained silent.
"Wait-" Mr. Dig continued, "don't answer that".
Lizzie was right. Mr. Dig *was* creepy.
Class progressed as normal throughout the lesson, despite a slight interruption concerning a debate between Mr. Dig, Ethan Kraft and Larry Tudgeman over whether or not a Polar Bear could survive a thermo-sub- atomic, semi-nuclear-fission explosion.
Normally, Lizzie would have hung onto every word that Ethan had to say, but her mind was clouded. Everything seemed distorted. Gordo in trouble. Ethan was concerned for Polar Bears. Mr. Dig discussed odd words. Tudgeman argued astrophysics- well. . . at least Gordo seemed distorted. . .
The bell rang once more, and that meant lunch. She wanted answers from Gordo-
"You've so *totally* got to come and hear this Lizzie!" Miranda squealed at the classroom door, jumping over the crowd, waving her arms about frantically, "this one is BIG!"
--Lizzie--
Miranda wasn't a threat. Gordo had just overreacted. The plan, in Lizzie's opinion was virtually flawless. They just had the task of getting through it. They fought off Kate, easily. Seeing as *that* had been quite a momentous undertaking in the past few years, they had nothing to worry about.
Except one thing.
They walked, no longer holding hands, towards their next class. English. That was simple enough, they just had to be seen together- giggling, flirting, whispering. . .simple expressions that would get all the gossipers talking. Once the story made its way around, complete with a few alterations, as was always expected, it would be smooth sailing.
Except that one little thing. It kept popping up in her mind, mid-thought.
He walked in front of her, navigating a way through the crowd. Not that the back of his head was very attractive, he had a unique little, laid-back- type walk- the back of his head was attractive? She had studied his *walk*?
She shook her head. There it was again. Nagging, interrupting.
Gordo. . .was just Gordo. He wasn't. . .he was a friend who just happened to be helping her out of a tight situation. After all, it was important. She had a whole *four years* of high school ahead. Being tormented throughout those years was not exactly the foremost event she was looking forward to.
"Do you like this whole arrangement?" he asked floatily, turning around to face her for a moment as they walked.
"Excuse me?" she jumped, alarmed by his question.
"I said, do you like that coal assignment?" he repeated more clearly, to her, it seemed.
She shook her head again, trying to remember.
"I'll take that as a 'no' then," he continued, laughing all the while.
"No-" she stammered, "I just thought you said something else".
He turned to look at her again, frowning and almost looking as if he had something to say, but spun around again and moved on.
Lizzie followed him in silence. Perhaps she'd just not slept well- or- or the acoustics. Yes, that sounded right. The acoustics of the hall were bad. That made sense, "acoustics- of course," she mumbled aloud, not meaning for anyone to hear.
"What did you say?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I said, glue sticks. . .of course," she lied, blushing and attempting to quickly move the conversation, "yeah that coal assignment- wow. . .that's a real party there".
Gordo laughed and shook his head.
She liked that. He, among many, was the one that truly *got* her. He understood her and connected on her wavelength. She smiled, knowing he wouldn't see.
The bell rang. Students all around them began to lessen their chatter and sidled into their classes. Lizzie and Gordo were among them, moving as slowly as the crowd was, into English.
There stood Mr. Dig, their regular- their regular substitute teacher. The guy was undoubtedly intelligent in a multitude of fields, but he did have an air of creepiness about him. Not in a bad way, but in a distinctly Mr. Dig way. Lizzie hadn't quite figured him out.
"Class, good to see you all. . .again. . .for what? The forty-second time in a row?" Mr. Dig greeted, smiling in that bizarre way as usual.
Lizzie took up a seat next to Gordo and pulled out her schoolwork. At that moment she clicked, realising she hadn't completed the work that Mr. Dig had set the previous lesson.
Somehow, Gordo knew exactly what she was thinking. Her facial expression was a dead giveaway too.
"Did you finish those synonyms?" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, looking at Mr. Dig.
She over at him slightly. He didn't look at her.
It only took seconds for Mr. Dig to scan the class and detect who had not kept up-to-date.
"Ms. McGuire, you're looking- stunned this morning. . ." Mr. Dig began, smiling sarcastically.
"Oh-" she fumbled, opening her book and pretending to find her work. Those few seconds were cleverly designed thinking time, to ensure a safe way out of the situation. . .but they weren't enough.
"Any problems with the work Ms. McGuire?" Mr. Dig persisted.
"Oh, well you know. . ." she smiled, forcing a laugh that came out more like a croak than anything that could be considered one's appreciation for humour.
"Enlighten me," Mr. Dig continued, smiling still, "question twenty-four was a particularly nasty one, wasn't it?"
"Yes sir, I believe it was," she answered, swallowing.
"What, *exactly* did *you* get for that one?" Mr. Dig pushed, looking down at her from the front of the class.
Lizzie froze, she had nothing.
"Any reason why you can't answer, Ms. McGuire?" Mr. Dig carried on, preparing for the final blow.
"I- uh-"
Gordo sprung up to his feet, "Mr. Dig, I haven't completed my work and Lizzie has been stalling for me," he began. The whole class spun around in every direction to see Gordo, "if you don't believe it, I have her work right here, which I was copying as you spoke," he finished, waving the paper with the work on it, for confirmation.
"Mr. *Gordon*?" Mr. Dig stumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.
"It was wrong of me to do that, I know," Gordo finished.
"No- I- I'm just disappointed," Mr. Dig said, not at all sounding like he was disappointed, more as though he was confused.
Lizzie sat watching the whole commotion with her mouth open. Gordo didn't once look at her; that may have jeopardised the circumstances further. Still, the question stood as to why he had saved her.
There were expectations in their agreement: that they would act like a couple in front of the right people; go to the right places; do the right things. . . there was nothing in the agreement about going beyond the call of duty, just to stick to the plan.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to record this, Mr. Gordon," Mr. Dig said grimly.
Gordo nodded, defeated and sat down.
Lizzie was shocked. Gordo had sacrificed everything he had worked for in the past two years, to save her, from humiliation.
"Gordon, I want to see you after class too," Mr. Dig finished.
Everyone sat in total silence. Some knew *exactly* what they had witnessed, others were totally at a loss.
"Open your books to the page after- whatever we were doing a moment ago," Mr. Dig's voice trailed. To Lizzie, he too seemed shocked.
As soon as Mr. Dig turned around, Lizzie cocked her head to face Gordo, "what did you just do?" she whispered a little loudly.
Gordo looked at her, "it's okay- you can thank me later," he whispered at the same level. Some of the students surrounding the pair laughed.
Mr. Dig turned around, text book in one hand, chalk in the other, "is there something funny about the term *snorkflats*?"
Everyone remained silent.
"Wait-" Mr. Dig continued, "don't answer that".
Lizzie was right. Mr. Dig *was* creepy.
Class progressed as normal throughout the lesson, despite a slight interruption concerning a debate between Mr. Dig, Ethan Kraft and Larry Tudgeman over whether or not a Polar Bear could survive a thermo-sub- atomic, semi-nuclear-fission explosion.
Normally, Lizzie would have hung onto every word that Ethan had to say, but her mind was clouded. Everything seemed distorted. Gordo in trouble. Ethan was concerned for Polar Bears. Mr. Dig discussed odd words. Tudgeman argued astrophysics- well. . . at least Gordo seemed distorted. . .
The bell rang once more, and that meant lunch. She wanted answers from Gordo-
"You've so *totally* got to come and hear this Lizzie!" Miranda squealed at the classroom door, jumping over the crowd, waving her arms about frantically, "this one is BIG!"