I own the rights to none of the characters in this story, even the characters that I created. If Disney wants to film this story and show it every year at Christmas, they have my permission.
Chapter rated R for language.
To Piper: "Pulling the curtain back" is a reference to theatre, or drama. Think of it as slowly revealing the stage on which the drama is set. In this case, it means that, very soon, we're going to start to see exactly what the story is about.
To Elle: Thanks for your comments and questions. I appreciate the opportunity to clear up any misconceptions, and your questions are a hint that I may not be adequately getting the point across in some areas. I'll try to address some of your concerns here. "I really don't understand where you're going with this story." I'm not surprised. I really wouldn't expect anyone to have a true sense of where we might be going, at least not until finishing this chapter (I'm not saying that we're explaining everything today; but the discerning reader may start to get a baaad feeling). This has been intentional. If what you're saying here is that you're getting impatient, I must plead guilty as charged. This also has been somewhat intentional. I realize two things. The first is that The Lizzie McGuire Show is marketed toward, and appeals to, young girls, and by that, I mean 8- to 12-year-olds, and it's reasonable to assume a fair number of young readers at this site. The second is that it seems absurdly easy for underage readers to read R-rated stories here. I would hope that, by now (or more to the point, by the next chapter, when the road map calls for the "sexual situations" side of the story to kick into gear), most of the younger readers would have gotten bored, and moved on. Once that happens, we adults (and perhaps, the more mature teens in the audience, although I'm still a little uncomfortable about this), can turn the lights down low. I don't think of myself as a prude, but this is not your typical R-rated story. I've read approximately 200 of the Lizzie fanfics here, and so far have run across one story that only hinted at where we're going. "It seems like Lizzie's parents are the bad guys..." Can you expand on this a little bit? I really don't gather that they're the bad guys. Oh, wait. Are you thinking that's part of the mystery, and it'll be revealed that they're the bad guys? Well, they may be (heh heh), but I don't think you've been given enough information to reach that conclusion. If that's not what you're thinking, then help me out. "There's no romantic interaction between Lizzie and Gordo." Why does there have to be a romantic interaction? I'm treading as closely as I can, without there being a romance between the two. As soon as these two characters get together romantically, the audience will grow bored with them, as characters. The audience will promise you that it won't, but it will. It's my job as a writer to dangle the possibility in front of you that they might get together, and then yank it away at the last minute, laughing maniacally. "Why does Kate have some sort of hold over Lizzie?" Patience, grasshopper. I'm not prepared to admit yet that she does have a hold over Lizzie, as that's part of the mystery, but if you're correct, the "why" and the "how" would be the whole point of the story. "Why are her parents encouraging this?" I haven't gathered that they're encouraging anything (unless, of course, they're EVIL), they just don't see it as a bad thing. Sam explained in chapter three why they "approve" of Lizzie broadening her circle of friends, that a high school junior who has a grand total of two friends isn't healthy. But we haven't seen any evidence that they're encouraging her, and remember, if Sam is to be believed, they didn't want Lizzie to go to Kate's party; they wanted Lizzie to spend the evening with Gordo and Miranda. Again, thanks for the opportunity to address some of these points. If you're asking these questions, other people probably were, too. Hope you stick around for the ride.
Knight in Shining Armor
Chapter 5
They say that life on other planets is a certainty.
It was early that same Sunday evening, and Lizzie and I were spreading a blanket on her roof, preparing to watch the meteor shower that was scheduled for that night. I wondered if there was an adolescent couple on the planet Glyphnor right this moment, preparing to watch the star Sol show up in their nighttime sky. A cliche, I know, but I don't think it's possible to stargaze with the girl you've known your entire life, and not wonder that.
We had spent the afternoon with Miranda, at the zoo. I know you'd like to hear that everything was back to normal, that Lizzie was her old self again, but things were much more...tentative, like we were getting to know each other again.
We lay down on the blanket, and she snuggled close enough to me so that our hips touched. For several moments, neither of us said anything. She was wearing Obsession. She drove me bonkers when she did that. Of course, she had no idea.
"So, um, whatever happened with Kevin?"
"Eh," she shrugged. "We went out once. He was a turd." She played with her hair, then said, "Oh, guess what? I got an invitation to some kind of dinner at Chi Omega, UCLA."
"Whoa," I whistled. "And you were planning on telling me this when?"
"Well, I dunno," she giggled. "I think it's something where they check me out, see if I'm Chi Omega material. I mean, they say it gives me the opportunity to check them out, but it's probably the other way around. But I don't know if I'm going, yet. My parents haven't said. It would mean spending the night up there, so.... I don't even know how they got my name."
"But you're looking at UCLA?"
"Yeah, I think so. They have a good Fashion Design program, and my Art teacher graduated from there and loved it. Plus, it's UCLA." She watched the darkening sky. "But it's a long way off."
"Still. Sorority socials...."
"Look," she nudged me, pointing to the sky. "First star."
"Actually," I corrected her, "that's a meteor, or even a--"
She gave me a tired look. "Gordo."
"You're right," I nodded. "First star." I didn't have to give my wish a moment's thought. I wished Lizzie would open up to us, trust us. I wished I could hear Lizzie laugh, without worrying that she was going to cry the next moment. I wished I could have the old Lizzie back, the Lizzie who had peeled goop off my face when the fake volcano exploded in fourth grade, the Lizzie who had taught me to dance in junior high, the Lizzie who had consoled me when my grandmother died last year. God, I just wished Lizzie would be okay.
Time passed, most of it with small talk, like my discovery on eBay Friday afternoon of the night-shot lens I had been searching for, for years. Like her brother's most recent obsession. Like who Ethan, or Claire, or even Tudgeman had been seen with that summer.
It was night, now, and we were picking out the major constellations.
"Oooh, there," Lizzie pointed excitedly. "See the circle of stars there, on top? And the squiggly snaky line running under it?"
"Uh huh."
"That's Charlie Brown."
"Okay. Good one." It took me a moment for my turn. "All right. I see Britney Spears."
She squinted at me. "You do not."
"Yeah, see?" I pointed to the southwest. "That arc there reminds me of the curve of her--"
"Stop!" she held her hand up and playfully pulled my face to the side, down to the blanket, facing her. "You think the linoleum in my kitchen floor looks like Britney Spears." I shrugged. She had a point. She looked up, sighing. "All right. See those two straight lines of stars, running up and down, sort of parallel?"
"Mmmhmm," I nodded.
"Avril Lavigne."
"Wicked, McGuire," I chastised her, and she scrunched up her nose at me.
Later still, clouds had started to move in. It had gotten chillier, but Lizzie wasn't ready to go in. Instead, she snuggled up closer to me for warmth, and I wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders.
"Lizzie?" I asked her.
"Yeah?"
"When I think about what it's gonna be like, in a couple of years, when you and I and Miranda are going to different schools, maybe scattered across the country, I can't picture that, you know? I can't even breathe."
"I don't want to think about it," she said, sounding half asleep. "It's forever and ever away from here. It's an eternity away."
I unashamedly leaned over and kissed her forehead gently, then returned to reclining on my back. Our sweet Lizzie.
"Lizzie?" I asked her again.
"Hmmm?"
"First star tonight. What did you wish for?"
She turned back to study what was left of the stars, as a cloud moved to cover the quarter-moon, then she lowered her eyes, and her voice was as light as the breeze that blew those clouds. "Wishes are for kids," she told me.
I went out on a date that Tuesday night, with Kelly Tremont, a cute sophomore in the flag corps. It was no big deal, just a dinner at a pretty nice Tex-Mex restaurant, and I'm not going to bother with the details here, but there's one thing you need to know.
When I took her home, she made a point of telling me how much she enjoyed the evening. I took the opportunity of asking her out again for Friday night, when we could stay out later. She got real reluctant, and said she'd have to think about it, that she'd have to ask her parents, that her family was going to the mountains for the weekend, that a nuclear explosion might destroy the Earth before Friday.
Okay, I made that last one up, but the point is, how do you go from "I had loads of fun tonight," (which seems to be an invitation) to "maybe we're not right for each other," in the span of eighty seconds? And here's my theory. In femspeak, one date means you're "hanging out." Two consecutive dates means you're "seeing each other." And here's my catch-22: There's not a woman in the world who can accept having a boyfriend whose two best friends are girls.
Which means I'm just fucked.
Wednesday was the day that things started to get seriously strange. It was at lunch, and I was telling the guys (by that, I mean the girls) about my date. They sympathized about my being rejected for Friday night, so I suggested we get together, instead.
"Sorry, guys," Miranda told us. "Can't. My parents are taking me to Anthony's for my birthday."
"Your birthday was last month," I pointed out.
"Yeah, but this was what I wanted, and this is as soon as they could get the reservations."
I turned to Lizzie. "So, McGuire?"
She gave me a sympathetic smile. "My family is flying out to Colorado Friday afternoon for my grandfather's birthday. He hasn't been doing very well. This might be his last birthday."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "So, when will you get back?"
"Well, I'm sorta...not...going. I told my folks that tryouts for the volleyball team are Saturday morning, and that I had to be there, to make the team."
"Oh. Okay. Well, then, how about Friday night?"
She hesitated. "I don't think so, Gordo. Some of the neighbors might get the wrong idea." I had been alone with her late at night plenty of times before, but we were in junior high then. "But I'm free Sunday. What do you say, guys?"
"Let's go to the water park," Miranda suggested.
"Oh, that would be awesome," Lizzie agreed. "Especially since last time, we had be bring Matt and Melina along."
It was at that moment that Kate joined us, sitting on the other side of Lizzie from Miranda. "Lizzie," she said, ignoring Miranda and me. "I so need your help."
"What is it?" Lizzie asked, finishing off the last of her brownie.
"I've completely filled up my last scrapbook, and I was starting another one during lunch, and I'm having a kind of writer's block, thinking of what the right motif would be. I mean, starting junior year, and all? I mean, usually, I wouldn't ask, but everything I can think of, I've already done! You're not bad....I mean, you're pretty good with style, and fashion. Just come over to the table and make some suggestions for colors and textures, okay? I mean, I'm just looking for something to get me jump-started, you know?"
Lizzie had turned to face Kate and didn't see Miranda making a face like she smelled sour milk. She started to pick up the remains of her lunch. "Um, look, you guys don't mind, do you?" she asked us. "Lunch is almost over anyway."
I shrugged. "Sure."
"Go for it," Miranda chimed half-heartedly. After Lizzie and Kate left us alone (Kate giving us an elfish grin over her shoulder) Miranda turned to me. "What was that all about? Scrapbook?"
No sooner had Lizzie joined Kate and several cheerleaders than Claire, returning from emptying her tray, helped herself to Lizzie's vacant seat. "Awwww, poor little boy," her voice tender, but her eyes gleaming. She poured some salt on the table and twirled her finger through it in tiny circles, but her eyes never left mine. "Should've made your move, while you had a chance." I refused to be baited. Then her eyes shifted, to focus on Lizzie, three tables down. "Look at her," she instructed, and my gaze followed hers. Lizzie was surrounded by a half-dozen of the most beautiful girls in the school, and she was the center of attention. They were giggling and whooping, fawning over her and going through some of Kate's old scrapbooks. Lizzie looked uncomfortable, almost embarrassed by all the special attention. "She's popular now," Claire observed. "She's living her dream; it's what she's always wished for." I looked back at Claire. "And she's not just popular with us, you know. She's becoming very popular with the guys."
"Blow it out your ass, Claire," Miranda spat. "That's enough!"
"That's very outre, Miranda," Claire responded calmly. "When we were in junior high." She looked back at me, her smile vanished now. "Give it up," she warned. "Lizzie belongs to us, now. Don't worry," she raised one eyebrow appraisingly. "We'll take good care of her." With that, she left our table and joined the rest of the clique.
I had figured out what was going on. Kate and Claire and all the others were just leading Lizzie on. They didn't care about her. They just wanted to destroy her friendship with Miranda and I, and once their mission was accomplished, they'd dump her. I had determined that the time had come to confront Kate. Miranda and I talked about it in Biology, and she told me that Lizzie was going to the library that afternoon to do research on a report in American History.
It was approaching four o'clock when I pulled up into Kate's driveway. I parked behind two other cars that I didn't recognize. I stepped onto the porch and knocked briskly on the door. When no one answered after about thirty seconds, I was about to knock again when the door opened wide, and I was face to face with Lizzie. She was dressed differently from school, now wearing a short denim skirt, dark blue blouse, and white vest. It was an...odd ensemble for her, but she still looked nice, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her feet were bare. Just loungin' around with the girls.
"Gordo?" she looked at me with a puzzled expression. She glanced over her shoulder. Down a short wide hallway, you could see into the dining room, where Kate and some of her posse were clustered. Kate and Amber noticed me and approached as Lizzie turned back to me. "What are you doing here?"
"Yes, Gordo," Kate called, joining us at the door. "What are you doing here?"
I was at least as confused to find Lizzie here as she was to see me, but I plunged ahead. "I came over to tell you I know what you're doing. You're just using Lizzie. All you want is to cause heartache for her, and once you've gotten your jollies, you'll dump her. You've done this before, and I'm tired of it, and I want you to leave her alone."
Lizzie's expression was inscrutable, but Kate was clearly amused. "You think I'm using Lizzie?" she laughed, and by now, two more girls, Claire and Jennifer, had made their way down the hallway. Then I noticed that it wasn't just girls. A boy had passed into my line of sight in the dining room, carrying a tray of uncooked burgers to the door leading to the backyard pool, and to our right, in the den, two more guys were caught up in a football game on ESPN Classic. They were all older. Kate's frat boys.
I had planned on a one-on-one confrontation, but now Kate had the upper hand.
Kate's deadly smile morphed into a poisonous glare. "Listen to me, you little shit. I will not be dumping her, and she knows it. She belongs to our group now, and she'll stay here. So why don't you just toddle on off to your androgynous girlfriend and let us have Lizzie?"
I took a half-step into the house and lowered my voice. "I'll let you have Lizzie. When you pry her from my cold, dead fingers."
"Ooooooo," Claire and the other onlookers chanted. I expected Lizzie to hit the roof with both of us, for talking about her, as if she wasn't there. Hell, I expected her to be madder at me, because you come to expect it from Kate; I should have known better. Instead, Lizzie just stood there, her hand still on the doorknob, no anger on her face, only anxiety. She was blushing, though.
I was distracted by a squeal of tires behind me. I turned and looked out onto the driveway to see a dark red sportscar screech to a halt next to my car. Two more well dressed, well kept frat boys leapt from the car, the passenger carrying a case of beer. "Mighty Hunter has returned!" the driver cheered loudly as he swept into the foyer beside me. He clapped me on the shoulder and gave me a friendly grin. "Hey, man, how's it going?"
He held out his hand for a shake, and I grasped it. Before I could answer, his partner muscled his way in on his path to the kitchen. "Comin' through, comin' through."
"Ted McKeithen," the driver introduced himself.
"David Gordon," I responded. "Call me Gordo." I wanted to hate him immediately, but I couldn't. He was a likable guy.
"So, you're Gordo," he observed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lizzie's mentioned you. Hey, man, listen, have you given any thought to going to SDSU?"
"Honestly, not really," I shrugged, forgetting why I was here. "If I stay close to home, I'll probably check out USC, for the film--"
"Awww, no, man," he interrupted. "Naw, you don't wanna go there. Nothin' but queers go there!" He called to one of the guys in the den. "Hey, Bear, tell Gordo here who he'll find at USC!"
From the den came a disembodied, barrel-chested voice: "Queers, man! Nothin' but queers!"
Ted looked at me and shrugged, as if his point had been proven. I grinned. "Seriously, man, come over and check out the campus. Give me a call at the house, let me know. I'll give you the tour. No hairy-legged feminists at SDSU." He wrapped his arm around Lizzie's waist and pulled her to him. "Isn't that right, Peachy?" She looked down and away from him. Suddenly, I found it a little easier to dislike him. He jumped as if he had just remembered something, but he never took his hand off Lizzie's hip. "Oh, hey, you're sticking around for the party, right? We'll throw on another couple of burgers."
"Uh, I--"
"Uh, no!" Kate blurted, panicked at the thought that I might be hitting it off with her boy toys. "He, uh, he wouldn't fit in."
"Awww, sure he would!" Ted protested, continuing to tug Lizzie closer to him. "Gordo's a straight up guy, right?" He looked to me, but I didn't know what to say.
"All right," Kate conceded. "I'll tell you what." She was giving me an appraising smile, and it made my skin crawl. "Gordo's here for Lizzie. Let's let Lizzie decide." Lizzie turned to Kate like a frightened deer at the mention of her name. "Lizzie, would you like Gordo to stay for the party?"
In my fantasies, she turns to me and licks her lips, and says, "Gordo, help me. Take me home. I want to get away from this. I want to be in my own home, in my own room. I want to wake up tomorrow, knowing that my true friends will always be there for me. And I want to always be there for you. Take me home. Save me."
But that was just my fantasy. What she said was, "Gordo, go home."
Claire and Jennifer cheered loudly and high-fived each other, while Kate just looked on triumphantly. Ted shrugged and said, "Sorry, guy. Better luck next time."
I didn't know what to say. If Lizzie truly didn't want me there, then I was wasting my time. And while I'd like to convince myself that Lizzie looked uncomfortable with Ted draped all over her, I had to accept the possibility that she was uncomfortable, not with Ted, but with my being there to see it. Totally dejected and defeated, I turned and walked outside. I didn't see Lizzie close the door, but I heard it. I wanted to beat my head against the hood of my car, over and over.
I dropped into the driver's seat of my car, and I could see Kate smiling at me through the plate glass window in the living room. And that smile changed everything. I was this close to saying, Fuck this. Fuck girls. And fuck Lizzie McGuire! I've tried every avenue I know to help her, and she keeps closing the door on me. If she wants this attention from all those assholes, then fuck her. And then that smile, the one that said, "I win again!", and I thought, Oh, no, Kate. It's not...that...easy. Lizzie and I have been through life and death, heaven and hell together, and I will not give up on Lizzie McGuire.
Next: The kid gloves come off, along with other articles.