A/N: Not much to say really... here's the next instalment.
--Lizzie--
It meant nothing until she cradled it in her arms. The yearbook. The last documented material of her life and times in middle school. Photographs of classmates she knew well and images of complete and utter randoms. It was a mixture of the good and the bad.
The line was long. The wait was going to be a while.
She had made particular note once, of Gordo's resent of the whole yearbook idea. Apparently, to him, it symbolised a fashion parade and 'posers'. Still, this was the very same guy who had, at one stage, attempted to set a record for most yearbook photos.
Someone pushed her in the small of her back, causing her to inadvertently jump forward.
"Oh I'm sorry! Weren't you aware of the 'cheerleaders before losers' law?" Kate Sanders asked shrewdly,
Lizzie faltered, surprised by Kate's sudden approach, "no, I- I didn't get that memo".
Kate's eyes bulged, "you had SO better watch yourself McGuire, you have no-
"-idea who I'm dealing with?" Lizzie finished Kate's sentence, smiling sarcastically all the while. The few students behind and in front of the pair, who had been listening in secret, tittered softly.
"You better hope you show your face at the Ball with Gordo, I mean, that *would* be social suicide," Kate spat. She always went as low as possible, to get the final blow in.
"Oh we'll be there," Lizzie retorted, with less style than she had before.
Kate pulled a face of utter admonishment and began to shove her way through the crowd. Lizzie shook her head defiantly and returned to waiting in line.
There had been some new fee instituted. Something, Lizzie remembered, to do with hard cover yearbooks as opposed to the regular old plastic covered ones. It was a step for the best, she had thought. The yearbook was a valuable record of an important part of her life.
The line shuffled forward like an eight-items or less grocery store queue.
She peered over her neighbour's shoulder and attempted to glimpse the commotion at the table distributing the yearbooks, but that was no easy task considering the height of the young man in front of her.
"Uh, have you seen them yet?" she asked, not realising whom she was speaking with.
"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!" the lad said, spinning around and smiling.
"Ethan..." she answered unsteadily, "how are- things?"
"Mui, mui, good, my fine lady friend," he continued. She wondered, for a moment, whether or not he knew what he was saying, but thought better of asking about it.
"That's- that's good..." she replied awkwardly, "so- got a date for that big Ball, coming up?"
"Whoa there!" he jumped, raising his hands in defence, "I thought we went over this last spring or something".
Lizzie blushed crimson, "oh right- of course! Not that I was- I mean you and I are just friends and-"
"and like, the word I heard going around," he interrupted, "is that you and the Gor-don are like two peas in a pipe!" he finished, clicking his tongue and winking for good measure.
"Two peas in a pod, Ethan, pod..." she corrected, sighing softly.
"Pod? Isn't that a band or something?" he asked, dumbfounded by her last response, "you see Lizzie, that's why we just don't work... we ain't on the same... what's that word?"
"Wavelength?" she added, shrugging her shoulders.
"No, we're talking about you and me, Lizzie, not surfing- come on, keep up with me here!" he stressed, shaking his head.
"Lizzie!" Gordo called from somewhere in the rear of the line. She breathed heavily in relief, the conversation with Ethan was clearly about to lower her intelligence in one way or another.
"Whoa, whoa, it's the Gor-don!" Ethan pointed, "you probably got some stuff to do with him, huh?"
"Yeah, uh, right... yeah- stuff... that's it," Lizzie broke off, smiling uncomfortably and stepping out of line.
"Laters, Lizzie, see *you* on the flip side!" Ethan called goofily, as she walked away.
Amongst the slight movement and whirl of conversation surrounding her, it became apparent to her that she'd just made a grave mistake. In the world of teenage schooling, stepping out of line means one has lost one's spot permanently.
She rolled her eyes and began to head towards the direction of Gordo's voice and Ethan's general pointing. Fortunately, Gordo popped up a small book and waved slowly, to attract Lizzie's attention. She noticed the signal and moved to him, passing through the line and disgruntling only a few students.
"I got them," he said coolly, brandishing a yearbook in each hand, grinning from ear to ear.
"But I thought- I was- I thought you weren't going to get one," Lizzie stammered, confused by his sudden change of attitude to the yearbooks, "and how did you get them so fast? And how did you get *two*?"
Gordo continued smiling, handing her one of the attractive looking books. On the front was printed, in gold lettering 'Hillridge Junior High – Class of 2002'.
She admired the text for a moment, "Miranda would've liked this," she said slowly.
"See that's the thing..." Gordo began, looking around uneasily.
"Oh great, Gordo- just great," Lizzie answered, realising what he was insinuating.
"Yeah well, she asked me to pick up hers and she left me the money and it would've looked strange buying three and using three different explanations," he rambled, trying to convince her, but failing dismally.
"So I'm going to have to line up... again, right?" she asked with dread.
"No, no!" he bubbled, "have this one, I'll just go and buy another one".
"Awww, Gordo," she caved, sighing and smiling at him, "thanks".
"Just mind my stuff while I go hop in line," he called, walking towards the end of the queue once more.
There she stood, off to the side of the bustling slow-but-steady rush for yearbooks, near Gordo's locker. And then it hit her. She had two yearbooks and would, undoubtedly, have to sign his at one point, so taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself, was more than logical.
She opened the book, flicking past the rigmarole of usual 'best ofs' and then the typical class portraits, to the end, where space had been conveniently provided for those who wished to write messages of good will to one another.
And there it was, printed in his hand writing.
"Oh... my... Gordo..." she gasped, reading the text and comprehending exactly what was before her.
She closed the book and looked around, before shaking her head.
--Lizzie--
It meant nothing until she cradled it in her arms. The yearbook. The last documented material of her life and times in middle school. Photographs of classmates she knew well and images of complete and utter randoms. It was a mixture of the good and the bad.
The line was long. The wait was going to be a while.
She had made particular note once, of Gordo's resent of the whole yearbook idea. Apparently, to him, it symbolised a fashion parade and 'posers'. Still, this was the very same guy who had, at one stage, attempted to set a record for most yearbook photos.
Someone pushed her in the small of her back, causing her to inadvertently jump forward.
"Oh I'm sorry! Weren't you aware of the 'cheerleaders before losers' law?" Kate Sanders asked shrewdly,
Lizzie faltered, surprised by Kate's sudden approach, "no, I- I didn't get that memo".
Kate's eyes bulged, "you had SO better watch yourself McGuire, you have no-
"-idea who I'm dealing with?" Lizzie finished Kate's sentence, smiling sarcastically all the while. The few students behind and in front of the pair, who had been listening in secret, tittered softly.
"You better hope you show your face at the Ball with Gordo, I mean, that *would* be social suicide," Kate spat. She always went as low as possible, to get the final blow in.
"Oh we'll be there," Lizzie retorted, with less style than she had before.
Kate pulled a face of utter admonishment and began to shove her way through the crowd. Lizzie shook her head defiantly and returned to waiting in line.
There had been some new fee instituted. Something, Lizzie remembered, to do with hard cover yearbooks as opposed to the regular old plastic covered ones. It was a step for the best, she had thought. The yearbook was a valuable record of an important part of her life.
The line shuffled forward like an eight-items or less grocery store queue.
She peered over her neighbour's shoulder and attempted to glimpse the commotion at the table distributing the yearbooks, but that was no easy task considering the height of the young man in front of her.
"Uh, have you seen them yet?" she asked, not realising whom she was speaking with.
"Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie!" the lad said, spinning around and smiling.
"Ethan..." she answered unsteadily, "how are- things?"
"Mui, mui, good, my fine lady friend," he continued. She wondered, for a moment, whether or not he knew what he was saying, but thought better of asking about it.
"That's- that's good..." she replied awkwardly, "so- got a date for that big Ball, coming up?"
"Whoa there!" he jumped, raising his hands in defence, "I thought we went over this last spring or something".
Lizzie blushed crimson, "oh right- of course! Not that I was- I mean you and I are just friends and-"
"and like, the word I heard going around," he interrupted, "is that you and the Gor-don are like two peas in a pipe!" he finished, clicking his tongue and winking for good measure.
"Two peas in a pod, Ethan, pod..." she corrected, sighing softly.
"Pod? Isn't that a band or something?" he asked, dumbfounded by her last response, "you see Lizzie, that's why we just don't work... we ain't on the same... what's that word?"
"Wavelength?" she added, shrugging her shoulders.
"No, we're talking about you and me, Lizzie, not surfing- come on, keep up with me here!" he stressed, shaking his head.
"Lizzie!" Gordo called from somewhere in the rear of the line. She breathed heavily in relief, the conversation with Ethan was clearly about to lower her intelligence in one way or another.
"Whoa, whoa, it's the Gor-don!" Ethan pointed, "you probably got some stuff to do with him, huh?"
"Yeah, uh, right... yeah- stuff... that's it," Lizzie broke off, smiling uncomfortably and stepping out of line.
"Laters, Lizzie, see *you* on the flip side!" Ethan called goofily, as she walked away.
Amongst the slight movement and whirl of conversation surrounding her, it became apparent to her that she'd just made a grave mistake. In the world of teenage schooling, stepping out of line means one has lost one's spot permanently.
She rolled her eyes and began to head towards the direction of Gordo's voice and Ethan's general pointing. Fortunately, Gordo popped up a small book and waved slowly, to attract Lizzie's attention. She noticed the signal and moved to him, passing through the line and disgruntling only a few students.
"I got them," he said coolly, brandishing a yearbook in each hand, grinning from ear to ear.
"But I thought- I was- I thought you weren't going to get one," Lizzie stammered, confused by his sudden change of attitude to the yearbooks, "and how did you get them so fast? And how did you get *two*?"
Gordo continued smiling, handing her one of the attractive looking books. On the front was printed, in gold lettering 'Hillridge Junior High – Class of 2002'.
She admired the text for a moment, "Miranda would've liked this," she said slowly.
"See that's the thing..." Gordo began, looking around uneasily.
"Oh great, Gordo- just great," Lizzie answered, realising what he was insinuating.
"Yeah well, she asked me to pick up hers and she left me the money and it would've looked strange buying three and using three different explanations," he rambled, trying to convince her, but failing dismally.
"So I'm going to have to line up... again, right?" she asked with dread.
"No, no!" he bubbled, "have this one, I'll just go and buy another one".
"Awww, Gordo," she caved, sighing and smiling at him, "thanks".
"Just mind my stuff while I go hop in line," he called, walking towards the end of the queue once more.
There she stood, off to the side of the bustling slow-but-steady rush for yearbooks, near Gordo's locker. And then it hit her. She had two yearbooks and would, undoubtedly, have to sign his at one point, so taking advantage of the opportunity presenting itself, was more than logical.
She opened the book, flicking past the rigmarole of usual 'best ofs' and then the typical class portraits, to the end, where space had been conveniently provided for those who wished to write messages of good will to one another.
And there it was, printed in his hand writing.
"Oh... my... Gordo..." she gasped, reading the text and comprehending exactly what was before her.
She closed the book and looked around, before shaking her head.