Chapter Nine: Mature
Lizzie's POV
Third grade was a pivotal year in my life. (Weren't they all?) It was a year when I was forced to leave all of my cherished childhood memories behind, and move on, and become more mature.
Or at least that's what I thought.
Kate was changing. She was more perkier, and grew into one of those girly- girl attitudes. Gordo changed a lot this year, too. He became more serious about his grades, and was budding into a young director. Miranda stayed the same. And so did I.
Well, sort of.
***
"You carry the nine!" exclaimed Gordo. "Then you multiply the two numbers and add the nine, which makes 21. Your answer would be..."
I bit my lip. "Um... twenty-one?"
He sighed at me impatiently, but with a smile on his face. "Lizzie, then you add 153 and 2,150, and *that* gives you your answer."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I get it now!"
I looked down at my math sheet. To me, it looked just like a big jumble of numbers that needed to be sorted out. "No, I don't." I sighed.
He smiled at me. "Multiplication isn't *that* hard." He patted my back.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm having a hard enough time remembering my three times tables. Can we please leave two digit multiplication for next year?"
Gordo and I were at my house, and he was teaching me something he had just learned from his parents; two-digit multiplication. It seemed as if Gordo was in front of the crowd all the time, knowing how to do what before we even got to the part in the book that explained about it. And he had taken the liberty of trying to teach me it, but I was too busy trying to get the *normal* facts down.
It hurt, seeing everyone becoming so smart, so mature, especially Gordo, the guy who was supposed to be going at the same pace I was, but instead learning about things that I would never dare to think about.
"Gordo... how come you're so smart!?" I put my hands on my hips. "It makes me feel dumb!"
He frowned. "Sorry... say, how about we watch a movie?"
"No!" I exclaimed. "You'll start yelling about the special effects and everything and it'll make me feel even more stupid!" I stormed out of the house.
***
I looked all around the store. "I want that." I pointed to a pair of jeans that had graffiti print all over them and were ripped at the knees.
My mother raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?" She asked, looking hesitant.
"Yes!" I pulled the jeans off the rack and put them over my own. "They look really cool."
"Cool?"
I nodded.
She sighed. "Okay, then. Cool jeans for Lizzie McGuire."
I smiled brightly as she bought them. I insisted on wearing them right that minute, but my mom told me to wait. Next, we went to the shoe store. I picked out these huge basketball shoes and looked so... punkish compared to my pink and white Sketchers. I tried tying the laces, but they wouldn't stay together, which I figured was even *more* cooler.
Then finally, we went to JCPenny to get me a new shirt. I picked out one blue top that was fairly tight, but remembered that tight clothes were so immature, so I said forget it. I planned on wearing one of my baggy basketball shirts to school.
That night, I laid out my outfit on my bed and sighed in happiness. I had the best outfit EVER, and I was going to show the world that even Lizzie could be mature.
***
"Lizzie, what did you do to yourself!?" Gordo looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted hors and a tail. "You look like... like... I don't know... but you don't look like *you*."
"I became mature." I crossed my arms and walked inside the classroom, slouching. It was cool, right? "You should try it sometime."
I was *so* smooth.
He raised his eyebrows at me, and the whole class hushed as soon as I passed them. Then a murmur went through the crowd, with kids whispering and giggling and so forth. I pretended like it didn't bother me and sat down.
I was cool. I had a cool outfit, my hair was put into a messy ponytail, and I never smiled. It was the thug type thing, and I thought I was the greatest thing since ice cream as I flashed my award-winning pants to the class.
The teacher came in and gasped. "Lizzie, I'm sorry, there are no hats allowed in the classroom." She commented, hinting that I would take it off.
Now, if I were the OLD Lizzie, I would have taken it off right away. But now this Lizzie. I just crossed my arms on my desk as if I didn't hear her. She told me, what, five six times and all I did was sit there and whistle. I could tell that the class was awestruck by my braveness.
"That is it, young lady, you are going to the principal's office."
THE *WHAT*!?
I wiped away a little bead of sweat that was creeping out of my forehead, and tried not to gasp. I had *never* been to the principal's office before. But I was cool. I tried to keep it that way with a 'what's he gonna do to me' look on my face.
But as soon as the teacher dropped me off at the office, I couldn't resist. A little tear ran down my face.
Maybe being mature was harder than I had thought.
***
"...and then he said, 'well, next time, please don't bring a hat to school' and stuff, so I said 'ok' and he let me go." I said, my lip trembling, as I played with the ripped hole in my jeans.
"Lizzie, it's okay..." Gordo put his arms around me. That was it. That was all I needed. I broke down, and started to cry.
"No..." I whined, burying my head in his shoulder. "It's not. You guys are so mature, and I feel so dumb, and I can't fit in, even if I try..."
Gordo leaned over and stroked my hair and started whispering in my ear. "Lizzie, you don't have to change for anyone. I happen to think you're very smart and mature for your age. And, look, no one cares about maturity, okay? If they do, then they aren't your real friends."
I snuggled into his chest, and he calmed me down. "Thanks, Gordo." I said softly, breaking away from our hug. "That really means a lot to know that you don't care if I'm mature or not."
"Mature? No one's mature yet. Parents are mature. And we've got a long way until then." He grinned. "Now, go change into your real clothes. Your *Lizzie* clothes."
I smiled.
Lizzie's POV
Third grade was a pivotal year in my life. (Weren't they all?) It was a year when I was forced to leave all of my cherished childhood memories behind, and move on, and become more mature.
Or at least that's what I thought.
Kate was changing. She was more perkier, and grew into one of those girly- girl attitudes. Gordo changed a lot this year, too. He became more serious about his grades, and was budding into a young director. Miranda stayed the same. And so did I.
Well, sort of.
***
"You carry the nine!" exclaimed Gordo. "Then you multiply the two numbers and add the nine, which makes 21. Your answer would be..."
I bit my lip. "Um... twenty-one?"
He sighed at me impatiently, but with a smile on his face. "Lizzie, then you add 153 and 2,150, and *that* gives you your answer."
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I get it now!"
I looked down at my math sheet. To me, it looked just like a big jumble of numbers that needed to be sorted out. "No, I don't." I sighed.
He smiled at me. "Multiplication isn't *that* hard." He patted my back.
I rolled my eyes. "I'm having a hard enough time remembering my three times tables. Can we please leave two digit multiplication for next year?"
Gordo and I were at my house, and he was teaching me something he had just learned from his parents; two-digit multiplication. It seemed as if Gordo was in front of the crowd all the time, knowing how to do what before we even got to the part in the book that explained about it. And he had taken the liberty of trying to teach me it, but I was too busy trying to get the *normal* facts down.
It hurt, seeing everyone becoming so smart, so mature, especially Gordo, the guy who was supposed to be going at the same pace I was, but instead learning about things that I would never dare to think about.
"Gordo... how come you're so smart!?" I put my hands on my hips. "It makes me feel dumb!"
He frowned. "Sorry... say, how about we watch a movie?"
"No!" I exclaimed. "You'll start yelling about the special effects and everything and it'll make me feel even more stupid!" I stormed out of the house.
***
I looked all around the store. "I want that." I pointed to a pair of jeans that had graffiti print all over them and were ripped at the knees.
My mother raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?" She asked, looking hesitant.
"Yes!" I pulled the jeans off the rack and put them over my own. "They look really cool."
"Cool?"
I nodded.
She sighed. "Okay, then. Cool jeans for Lizzie McGuire."
I smiled brightly as she bought them. I insisted on wearing them right that minute, but my mom told me to wait. Next, we went to the shoe store. I picked out these huge basketball shoes and looked so... punkish compared to my pink and white Sketchers. I tried tying the laces, but they wouldn't stay together, which I figured was even *more* cooler.
Then finally, we went to JCPenny to get me a new shirt. I picked out one blue top that was fairly tight, but remembered that tight clothes were so immature, so I said forget it. I planned on wearing one of my baggy basketball shirts to school.
That night, I laid out my outfit on my bed and sighed in happiness. I had the best outfit EVER, and I was going to show the world that even Lizzie could be mature.
***
"Lizzie, what did you do to yourself!?" Gordo looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted hors and a tail. "You look like... like... I don't know... but you don't look like *you*."
"I became mature." I crossed my arms and walked inside the classroom, slouching. It was cool, right? "You should try it sometime."
I was *so* smooth.
He raised his eyebrows at me, and the whole class hushed as soon as I passed them. Then a murmur went through the crowd, with kids whispering and giggling and so forth. I pretended like it didn't bother me and sat down.
I was cool. I had a cool outfit, my hair was put into a messy ponytail, and I never smiled. It was the thug type thing, and I thought I was the greatest thing since ice cream as I flashed my award-winning pants to the class.
The teacher came in and gasped. "Lizzie, I'm sorry, there are no hats allowed in the classroom." She commented, hinting that I would take it off.
Now, if I were the OLD Lizzie, I would have taken it off right away. But now this Lizzie. I just crossed my arms on my desk as if I didn't hear her. She told me, what, five six times and all I did was sit there and whistle. I could tell that the class was awestruck by my braveness.
"That is it, young lady, you are going to the principal's office."
THE *WHAT*!?
I wiped away a little bead of sweat that was creeping out of my forehead, and tried not to gasp. I had *never* been to the principal's office before. But I was cool. I tried to keep it that way with a 'what's he gonna do to me' look on my face.
But as soon as the teacher dropped me off at the office, I couldn't resist. A little tear ran down my face.
Maybe being mature was harder than I had thought.
***
"...and then he said, 'well, next time, please don't bring a hat to school' and stuff, so I said 'ok' and he let me go." I said, my lip trembling, as I played with the ripped hole in my jeans.
"Lizzie, it's okay..." Gordo put his arms around me. That was it. That was all I needed. I broke down, and started to cry.
"No..." I whined, burying my head in his shoulder. "It's not. You guys are so mature, and I feel so dumb, and I can't fit in, even if I try..."
Gordo leaned over and stroked my hair and started whispering in my ear. "Lizzie, you don't have to change for anyone. I happen to think you're very smart and mature for your age. And, look, no one cares about maturity, okay? If they do, then they aren't your real friends."
I snuggled into his chest, and he calmed me down. "Thanks, Gordo." I said softly, breaking away from our hug. "That really means a lot to know that you don't care if I'm mature or not."
"Mature? No one's mature yet. Parents are mature. And we've got a long way until then." He grinned. "Now, go change into your real clothes. Your *Lizzie* clothes."
I smiled.