No comments about referring to Haylie in the last chapter? Surprise, surprise. It was a little odd that after what I titled the last chapter, when I got the LMM DVD, the final segment is titled "Capturing the Moment"... Strange coincidence...
One reviewer said I must be a perfectionist, and reading my stories is like reading a book. Perfectionist? Yes and no. I want it to be a certain way, yes, but perfect it's not. I tweaked the last chapter a little, I used a certain phrase too much... Have ideas how I can make this better? Let me know...
A book? Well, that's the way it should be, right? I want you to 'see' it, as well as read it. I try to be very descriptive. I tend to figure out later though, that I left something out. Depending on how 'big' it is, sometimes I change it, sometimes I don't.
I'm registered with 'Support Services', so if you want, you can get an 'alert' when I update. The option to do so is on the same pull-down menu where you review from. I also have an @fanfiction.net email address, although I'm not sure how to get into it... :-/
Anyways, I type too much in these notes... Chapter title is taken from songs by Pink and Matthew Sweet.
Disclaimer- Don't work for Disney or Ren-Mar Studios.
On to Chapter 3.
Chapter 3
He woke up hot and sweaty. Angrily, he threw the covers away. Almost instanteously, he felt relief. The feeling was short-lived. Just a few minutes later, he was now freezing. He muttered something under his breath, and jumped up to reclaim his discarded bedding. Bad move! His stomach felt like a clothes dryer stuck on the spin cycle. His head throbbed, as if it would pop any second.
Did anyone get the license plate of that truck? After it ran him over, it must have backed up, and flattened him some more. He tried to recall all that had happened over the last 24 hours. So much had happened, it seemed more like it took a week than a day.
He smiled when he remembered the concert, and the rooftop, and then... His heart sank and his smile turned to a frown. The rooftop, and the elevator, two places he'd missed a series of golden opportunities. Stupid, stupid.
"Gordon, Why did you pass up so many chances to reveal what you feel?" He only thought it, but the words reverberated in his head.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. Relax, relax. He had to relax. At this rate, he was going to give himself an ulcer before he turned sixteen.
What time was it anyways? He looked up at the ceiling, then towards the window. It had to be around five or six o'clock, it was no longer pitch black, yet, the sun was not up yet. He moved to the edge of his bed, and dangled his hand off the side. He always kept his watch just under the edge of the bedframe so he could find it easily, and it wouldn't get hurt. His fingers just brushed the band. He leaned over to pick it up.
His stomach felt like he had that worm monster thing from Men in Black 2 inside. He snatched up the watch and made a run for the bathroom, trying to get there as fast as he could without making noise. He just made it in time to literally 'toss his cookies'.
"That tasted a LOT better going down than it did coming up..." he thought to himself. Ewwwww! Why did he have to think that? He flushed, and the sound intensfied his migraine. He leaned against the side of the sink, for a two-fold purpose. 1) to re-gain strength. 2) to wait and see if he needed to expel anything else from his insides. When he decided he had no need 'ride the porcelain bus' again, he checked his watch. 5:25. He hated mornings. Better hurry up and finish. He definitely needed more sleep. He started to wash his hands, then pulled away, as if it were fire instead of water.
His eyes had found the bottled water set-up on the sink. Had he remembered to use that and not the tap water when he had gotten ready for bed a few short hours ago? He couldn't remember, but if he had to think about it, the answer was probably no. He thought of what he had been told about what happened when tourists drank the water. The effect could be almost as bad as what happened to those who drank the water in Mexico, 'Montezuma's Revenge'.
Well, so much for feeling better, but at least he could try for more sleep. He silently berated himself for being so foolish as he dragged his sorry body back to bed. He stopped, and listened. Ethan was snoring! He had something on him! He looked over at the sleeping Mr. Craft. Even asleep, he still had perfect hair. He moved a little closer to Ethan.
Wait! Ethan wasn't snoring. Were the walls really, really thin? No. He looked around, and what he saw should have shocked him, yet he was so out of it, he really didn't care. Across the room, there was a large cot, and it held a large man. He was snoring heavily, and turned towards Gordo. Why would a strange man be in the room? He looked closely. It was that bodyguard guy. The one who worked for that slimeball Paolo.
Ugh. He didn't want to think of Paolo. Ever since Lizzie had mentioned him, he knew something was up with that, that, errrrgh. He hated to use such language, even to describe that loser. "Push it out of your mind, David, that's over," he muttered as he forced himself to remain calm. He really didn't want to get all worked up again. So he had a new roommate. So what? He'd figure it out later. He limped back to bed, placed his watch back in its 'safe' place, and crawled under the covers. His mind was starting to race again, but his stomach had slowed its churning.
Now Ethan, if he thought about it, he wasn't such a bad guy. Being short on brains was no criminal offense, but sometimes he just didn't understand how he could be so clueless, so out of it. When he talked to him, he swore he could hear his own brain cells dying off, popping like old light bulbs.
He snorted. Ethan wasn't brain-dead, he was. After all that had happened, he had to go and drink tap water. he knew better. It's as if he WANTED to get sick or something. Wait, maybe he did just a little... Then he wouldn't have to face Lizzie and everyone else. But he'd have to sooner or later, so why put it off? He wrestled with a thousand thoughts and scenarios, as he drifted into a fitful sleep...
His rest period ended abruptly when he was awakened what seemed like minutes later, by a loud knocking on the door. He opened his eyes just enough to see. It was morning, but when? The knocking continued, but he was in no shape to answer it. He looked across at the other bed. Ethan hadn't stirred. What's-his-name was still asleep too. Should he answer it? He sure didn't want to move.
He didn't have to. He soon heard the voice of DOOM, err, Ms. Ungermeyer. She was the type that didn't require a microphone, she had one built-in. No, wait. She'd used a megaphone at the airport. He guessed she was using it now. "CRAFT!!! GORDON!!! Meet me by the elevator in 10 minutes! You too Sergei!"
Well, that woke up his roomies. Sergei, that was the name of the large guy in the corner. Speaking of which, he was awake now. He had gotten up, and was trying to rouse Ethan.
"Oh hey there! You're that dude! The tour guide dude!" Ethan didn't seem at all fazed by this guy. But tour guide? Whaa?
"Excuse me, young sir, Sergei is bodyguard. Not guide for tours."
"Whoa! So like you protect like protect rich and famous dudes, and stuff? You like jump in front of bullets and die for them and whatever? That's awesome!"
Ethan seemed almost starstruck.
"I suppose, but it's my job, or it was..." He trailed off, and Ethan did not prompt him further. Gordo lay there, just listening, wondering how he came to be in this situation. What exactly was Sergei doing there? Only one way to find out...
"So, uhhh, Sergei, that's your name right?" He paused and the man nodded. He continued. "What's the deal? What's this about tours? Why are you here?" He had fifteen questions ready to ask at once, but those would suffice for now. He lay back on the pillows, and waited.
The man opened his mouth to explain, but was cut off before he could utter a sound, buy the remarkable Mr. Craft. Ethan adopted an accent for no good reason. "Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is marrying Humperdinck in a little less than half an hour, so all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the Princess, make our escape, after I kill Count Rugen."
He should have known Ethan wouldn't make a bit of sense. Against his better judgement, Gordo interrupted. "What are you talking about? This is not a movie, and your name is not Inigo Montoya!" Oh yeah, this was a commonplace scenario.
Immediately Ethan apologized. "Sorry Gor-DON, sorry guard dude, always wanted to say that. Go ahead, guard dude, tell him whatup about the rest of the trip."
Sergei looked Ethan over with an incredible amount of patience. He took a deep breath and began to speak, this time without interference. "Sergei. The name is Sergei. Mr. Gordon, I do believe you have to be told what happened last night."
Oh no. Gordo froze. Lizzie had gone back, told what had happened, and now this big lug had been hired to keep an eye on him, and keep him away from her. He held his breath, as Sergei informed him the best he could of what would happen before the end of the trip. In a way, it was unbelievable. He knew neither he nor Lizzie was totally off the hook for the past few days' events, but giving Ethan and Kate the same punishment? Ms. Ungermeyer must know what she was doing, but, nevermind. He was in no mood to figure it all out. He'd just have to roll with it. He wouldn't be going today with them anyways, given his current condition.
"Dude! We gotta get ready! C'mon Gor-DON, Guard dude! Let's go!" Gordo sighed.
"Ethan! It's pronounced 'Gor-dunn'. Whatever. You get ready, I'm not feeling good. And his name," he paused to point to his new roomie, "is Sergei. Surrrr-gay. Got it?"
"Sure Gor-DON, no prob. Stay and rest, I'll get dressed first." He bounded out of bed, grabbed his clothes, and was off.
He'd never get through to Ethan. All his brains were in his hair, and he combed them out daily.
It had to be three, maybe four minutes since their rude awakening. Ethan changed in less than two, then took time out to 'poof' his hair. Heh, Gordo's hair 'poofed' whether he wanted it to or not. But if he had straighter hair, he'd probably want it curly. He sighed. The grass is always greener in someone else's garden. Sergei began to get ready, cleaning up, putting away his 'bed'. Gordo stayed right where he was. He wanted more sleep, but there was just enough noise in the room to keep him awake. He grabbed at his watch. 7:22. Too early. He was not now, nor had he even been a morning person. He had just gotten comfortable when there was another knock on the door.
Sergei rose to answer it, and conversed quickly and quietly with the visitor. A few seconds later, the door closed. Gordo opened his eyes. He was looking into Ms. Ungermeyer's eyes. He closed his eyes, and re-opened them. Nope, she wasn't an illusion. She was there. Now what?
"Mr. Gordon?" He watched her closely. She was almost being too nice. "I hear that you aren't feeling well. That's too bad." She looked genuinely concerned about him. Maybe he wasn't in the doghouse with her anymore.
"Well, I think it's because I didn't eat much yesterday, and I drank a little of the water..." Great, anyone knew they had to eat or they'd get sick. Now she'd think he was just stupid.
"Awww. That's too bad you picked today to get sick. Know why?" He shook his head slightly. Even a little shake hurt. He waited for her answer.
"Because after what happened with Ms. McGuire, I don't care! Unless you have something broken, you are going to go with the others! I'm going to tell you a little story. You like stories, don't you? When I was your age, I tried to play the 'I'm sick' routine to get out of school. A lot of times I wasn't sick at all. When my dad realized that, he decided he wouldn't let me play hooky anymore. The next time I said I was sick, I really was. He told me, 'Sick? Throw up and prove it.' I did. Then he said 'Feel better?' When I said I did, he said, 'Good. Now go to school!' So I did. I'm telling you the same! You have five more minutes! And if you don't show, you will be returning home today! I believe you are familar with the airport? Do you understand? Now get up!"
He managed a barely audible "Yes",He understood. Boy, did he ever. He slowly got up. He felt like an 85 year old man. He popped his joints. Ahhhh! That felt better.
Ms. Ungermeyer started for the exit. "Remember five minutes! No more! Help him Mr. Craft! Sergei!"
"I don't need any help!" Gordo resisted when they tried to help him up. He like to do things by himself. He would not let Mr. Brain Dead and Mr. Muscle help him. He found clothes that were relatively clean, and looked halfway decent together.. Mustering up all his strength, he went off to wash and change.
Four minutes and some odd seconds later, he was ready. Ethan and Sergei had left. He double checked what he needed to take for the day, and went to join them. He felt a little better than he had before, but not much. He needed a shower, but there was no time for that now. He did NOT want to go out in his current state. He was unwell in both mind and body. He opened the door, and found Ms. Ungermeyer on the other side ready to knock. He forced a smile, and slowly walked with her over to where Lizzie, Ethan, and Kate, and their 'guide' were waiting.
A/N I said things would get better for Gordo, and they will, just... not yet. I wanted to have this up more than a week ago, but 'stuff' happened. Will try to get the next done sooner. One day I really want to work on this, the next day... I want to just delete it. I have a thousand ideas, but don't know how to use them. Oh well. And I WILL be moving it along soon. They will go back home maybe next chapter or the one after.
I didn't do anything to this chapter for a few days. Got a lot of stuff in progress, this just got set aside. I do plan to continue, do plan to finish.
In between Chapters 2 and 3, I got the LMM on DVD, Lalaine's CD, Hilary's CD, and saw Lalaine live in concert. :-) :-)
If you like, review or email me at JP5683@msn.com or IM me (AOL JP five 683 Yahoo JP5683 MSN JP5683@msn.com)
Thanks,
JP
August 31, 2003