And so it was Kate. Because of Kate, I show up to my homecoming in my pink princess dress with a shaved head. Because of Kate, I flush the gaudy pink cross that matches said pink princess dress down the toilet before I arrive. Because of Kate, I scream and cry and sob in my mother's arms before collapsing there, smashed. And, because of Kate, I attend the dance.
Because I'm not Kate at all. I'm Lizzie McGuire, former blonde, daughter of God (just maybe less so), imperfect and too good. Lizzie, who cried for Christ and bought a journal with puppies on it afterwards. Lizzie McGuire, me, who makes mistakes sometimes. Just me.
I drive by myself to the dance, slowly, like I could crash into a tree if I go over twenty and then I'd die and miss this dance that I'm completely anticipating. Matt and Lanny decided to walk, taking one look at my swollen eyes and melting lip gloss and refusing my offer.
I watched Matt get ready earlier, picking out his hideous blue cowboy shirt, frayed at the cuffs. He treated me almost softer, letting me lean in his doorway and see his skinny chest.
"I can't believe you're still going," He had said, almost laughing in disbelief. I shrugged, wiped my eyes.
"Well, you know, why not?" I replied in the shaky tone I had adopted that afternoon. "It's not like they aren't going to see me Monday." He nodded, buttoning his skirt and looking in the mirror. I saw him try to hide the fact he was really looking at himself, judging. He flipped up the collar and looked at me.
"What do you think, little lady?" He stood in what I imagined was supposed to be a cowboy stance. "Giddy up?"
"Sure," I chuckled. He proceeded to do-si-do around the room with an imaginary partner, making me laugh. I reflect now that that was the first time in years Matt actually made me laugh. On purpose.
I almost wish they had come with me now, so I could build a wall with their pity. Then I wouldn't have to pity myself.
The cheesy pop station blares as I inch along, each verse punctuated by an impatient honk. Every time another car appears, I pretend to be a normal citizen, speed up. It scares me to death, to go faster than I can go on foot. Don't they understand? I'm still tender from this; the slightest touch and I could dry up and break into a thousand pieces.
As the Spice Girls come on, I am still ten minutes from school and there is so much space in my head, so naturally, I think of name tags. I remember when Kate and I hosted a car wash to raise money for Yearbook Club. She wrote her name tag in neat swirls, drew a smile. I drew a star, and she added under it, "Kate is the best!" I laughed and wore it, because look, Kate is on my name tag. Suddenly, the thought sickens me.
The lyrics suddenly pop in my mind, and I remember singing along to them with Miranda, Gordo rolling his eyes, sometimes blabbering on about the grammatical correctness or sexism of the song. I try to sing along, but suddenly the words aren't there. I thought I had them, but really, they left a long time ago. Now all I can see is Gordo, shaking his head at my name tag. Miranda appears too, disgusted.
"Why don't you just get a dog collar?" She says to me, and I look at her, hurt.
"I never meant for us to drift apart," I cry, but she doesn't listen.
"Well, good for fucking you," She says angrily, but Gordo puts his hand on her shoulder, stops her.
"I'm really disappointed in you, Lizzie," He says in the Gordo way only he can. I squeeze my eyes shut. A tear falls and they disappear. I realize I'm still driving when a car honks. I don't speed up and they pass me, giving me the finger as they do. I don't think I've ever given anyone the finger.
I finally arrive at school, turn off the engine and stare. The goodness of this idea deteriorates, and all I can feel is this sickness in my stomach. I see myself going home, eating ice cream with Mom, ignoring her disappointment. This is no heroic gesture, this is going to a stupid dance. I can buy a wig over the weekend, maybe take a day off from school. I can say I dyed my hair, cut it. I can hide it until it grows back to a reasonable length. I don't have to tell the truth.
But this is what I do, isn't it? Honest to a fault, romantic and optimistic. Sensitive and compassionate. I've gotten so confused, I'm following a road map of my former self. I lean my head on the steering wheel. Is knowing what you would do a debatable topic with yourself?
I get out of the car and walk into the gym, looking only in at my feet.
Everything is blank and numb, except for pinpoints of whispers. I hear slight laughter, but they don't realize that's it's not a joke. Mostly, I hear their stares. I find a nice corner to stand in.
I almost look for Kate, but I don't want to see her with her date. I picture her smiling at Gordo, her long golden tresses tumbling faultlessly down her delicate back. I see my dateless bald self, fuming. I realize now how incredibly unfair life is.
Kate, with her drugs and endless amounts of boyfriends, takes it all, using everything possible to shove her way to the top. She pretends and lies and cheats and screws you over, but she gets there. I see the way I believed, prayed and helped, spoke only the truth. And what happened? She shaved my head.
She builds a shaking anger in me, threatening to tumble any second. I think how she takes things away from me, how she crumbled everything, left, came back, and crumbled everything again. She's the kind of mistake that tears you; she's the last laugh you'll never have. She writes her name on my name tag and I laugh. She cries and I sob.
But I love her. As the anger tumbles, all that's left is the horrible reality that is that fact. When Kate leaves, I miss her. When she's with me, I'm happy. In the most basic sense, she's holding my hand the entire time. She's showing me the garden over and over again.
It's everything around us that screws us over.
I want to tell this all to Kate, to take her to the side and tell her how our friendship has to end just because I need it to keep going, but I see her and can't. She's dancing with Gordo, the height difference a secret to no one. She sees me and waves, smiles. Like everything's okay. Like nothing happened. This is the constant in Kate's life. Pretending everything's fine. The salty sweet denial collects on tongue as my eyes water.
"Hardcore, McGuire." I know it's Parker with no hesitation. Who could mistake that voice? "I didn't know you had it in you." It takes me a moment to realize she's talking about my head.
"Well, uh, it wasn't exactly planned." My voice is filled with more sorrow than I intend, trying and failing to sound mysterious and "hardcore."
"What, did Kate tell you to?" Miranda sneers by her side, glancing back to where they came from. I know she's looking at Cody, wanting to be with him.
"No," I say with an edge in my voice, though it's a total lie. "I'm not like, her minion or anything."
"Could've fooled me," She replies, and Parker nudges her.
"I'm sorry we drifted apart," I say lifelessly.
"Um, wow, Kodak moment," She looks at me strangely. "Let's go, Park."
"I mean it," I say with more conviction. "I'm sorry."
"Well, I'm not," She says shortly, and turns away.
"Ouch, harsh," Parker shrugs sympathetically. "I guess that's what happens when you eat meat." She follows in Miranda's wake, towards Ethan, who I realize now is her date.
Could things possibly get stranger?
Of course, the evitable happens, and it does as everyone's head turns towards the other entrance, where someone else is coming in. I lean against the wall, the limelight shifted. Thank God. I instinctively reach for my cross necklace, but it's not there anymore. I suddenly feel utterly naked.
"A cancer victim and a fag in the same family," Someone turns to me and sighs. "Sucks, dude." I stare at him, trying to process what the hell he's trying to say. He doesn't say anymore, just turns and gets more punch.
I suddenly need to see what all the commotion is about. I stand on my toes, trying to look over the crowd. I see Matt and Lanny, some football player. I stand on a chair nearby. Matt and Lanny are holding hands.
It hits me now, in slow waves in thousands, how everything connects. I know now why babies die and parents divorce and killers kill. I understand why Kate shaves my head and I lick her boots. I recognize how you cheat on your wife, how you steal from the poor, how you slit your wrists. Because life is nothing but un-fucking-fair. I fall off the chair in the perfect Lizzie McGuire moment.
It would have been a choice time to flip off God, I realize now as I run out the door, fling myself on the curb, tear the taffeta into neat lines. I think about how my brother is probably being beaten now, and how nice it was this afternoon, as he do-si-do'd across the room and I thought he was straight. I almost laugh, wondering how I possibly could have with him wearing that shirt.
I don't think about how Kate knew, and I didn't.
I also don't think about how my brother has probably kissed the guy I'm in love with.
I also don't think about how my skull is freezing.
"God... damnit!" I yell it out, as loud as I can, hoping someone would hear me.
"Is that Lizzie McGuire?" They would whisper, listening for more. "But she's like, a huge Jesus freak." That's right. But I don't believe in God anymore. Hear that, God?
This is pretty sad.
"Lizzie?" I turn around and see Larry Tudgeman, like my night could get any better.
"Not now, Larry," I say as gently as possible, leaning into my hands. "I'm not in the best of moods."
"I just came to tell you that they're announcing Homecoming King and Queen soon," He says awkwardly, standing over me. "And, you know, you're nominated and all..."
"Yeah," I say bitterly, raising my eyebrows. "Like I'll really win."
"Sure you will. I mean, I voted for you."
"Thanks, but," I tear the taffeta more, "Coming to the dance bald and then running out when you find out your brother is gay isn't exactly what you call a good campaign."
"You mean you didn't know?"
"I guess I'm the only one."
"You know, I like your hair," He says suddenly. "It's kind of Queen Amidala... if she shaved her head."
"I didn't have a date, Larry," I confess.
"I know." We stand there in silence for a minute, the only sound the ripping of my skirt. The keys jingle in his pocket, and he whistles, but I tune him out. "Well, I'm going back in... are you coming?"
"I guess," I say, letting him help me up. We walk together, and I wish desperately I could just fall in love with Larry, let him court me through senior year. I wish I had never fallen in love with silence.
When we enter the room again, everyone is dancing again. I don't see Matt or Lanny, but I keep my eyes on the entrance they came through, waiting for them to appear again.
"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" I tell Larry, heading towards Kate. All I see is the back of her head, her incredible hair. I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to do.
"Kate," I announce my presence, and she turns away from her date, smiling at me.
"Hey, Lizzie," She says slightly nervously. "Wild haircut. I guess it's a big hit."
"We can't be friends anymore," I inform her. "Bye."
"Wait," She grabs my arm. "What are you talking about?"
"I just realized that you just confuse me. And I just... listen to you."
"You're not making sense," She says, trying to stare me into sense. We're silent, her staring at me and me looking at the floor. "I'm sorry." She says it quietly, like she understands. I know she doesn't, beyond the fact I'm never going to make sense.
"Bye, Kate," I almost wave, but just end up throwing my hand up and letting it fall. I look back at her, her lips pouting slightly, such a sad little girl. And guess what? She's beautiful.
"Okay, gang," Mr. Dig gets on stage, permanent teacher at Hillridge High. "It's time to announce your Homecoming King and Queen." Everyone cheers as I reach Larry's side again. "Okay, okay, keep your pants on." He opens his envelope, looks at it, looks at us all. I see Kate primping slightly, smiling at Gordo. He shakes his head.
"And your Homecoming King is... Cody Pearson!" Everyone looks at each other quizzically, as Miranda and Parker laugh hysterically. I know now that they've screwed around with the poll somehow. I smile, though it isn't funny.
Cody makes his way to the stage where Claire puts the crown on his head, having volunteered for this position. He ignores the microphone and walks directly off stage, bright red. A few people clap, but mostly everyone's just confused.
"Well, that was unexpected," Larry says, but I can't think of anyway to respond, so I don't.
"And your Homecoming Queen is..." Please don't say me, I think. Please don't say me. "Lizzie McGuire!" There's applause, and Larry pushes me to the stage, but I can't move. Don't give me a stage. "Come on up, Lizzie." I reluctantly trudge up the stairs, looking out at everyone. They seem to be trying to make their faces blank. Or maybe I am.
Claire places the tiara on my head, and I wince as it pierces my skull. This was obviously not designed for a bald girl.
"Lizzie," She whispers in my ear, like she really wants to say something that means something. She hesitates, breathes, and just says, "Congratulations."
I approach the microphone with apprehension. I should give a motivating speech. Tell everyone what I told Claire, tell them what I really think. Tell them how I'm depressed now, but in a couple weeks I'll be back to normal and pick up where everything left off, before everything screwed up. Tell them that they need to remain hopeful.
I start to say these things, but suddenly everything goes black. There has been a power outage. People scream, laugh, call each other's names.
"Make out party!" Some guy calls out. I hear Miranda's laugh over it all, somehow.
"Everyone calm down!" Mr. Dig yells over it all. "We'll get some lights in here." But no one's paying attention; I hear a mad rush to the door. I take a step and suddenly I'm off the stage, on the ground. My skull pulses in pain as sweating bodies shuffle around me. The air conditioner isn't on either.
Somehow I manage to stand up and now I'm in an ocean of bodies, being pushed out the door. People shout to move, shove. It's not long before I can look up and see stars. They crave blood.
A car radio is going all the way, the bass shaking my skeleton. Somewhere in the shuffle my tiara has fallen off.
"Hey, Lizzie," Larry pushes towards me. "Isn't this great?" I think for a minute, looking around. People push themselves against their dates, the music rowdy hip hop. The cool air is relieving against my sweaty neck. No one is looking at me.
"Yeah," I smile slightly. "I guess it is."
"Want to dance?" He offers me his hand, and I take it. Larry really can't dance, especially to this music, so we try an awkward waltz. I can't help but laugh, our offbeat steps becoming more offbeat as we try to get on beat.
"Thanks, Larry," I say to him.
"You're welcome," He replies, trying to twirl me. Instead, I stumble into Miranda, who raises her eyebrow at me.
"Larry Tudgeman, huh?" She looks at me. "Not exactly your typical boyfriend, Lizzie McGuire."
"He's not my boyfriend," I blush.
"Not yet," Larry says, "But once a girl gets a taste of the Tudge, it's hard going back to anything less than gourmet."
"Right," I laugh. "Sure."
"Switch partners?" Miranda offers. "You never got a dance with your Homecoming King, after all." She switches places with me, and I know this is the first time in a long time Miranda has actually been civil to me. Cody blushes, backing off slightly.
"So," He says softly, and I realize I really don't know his voice, "What made you decide to take the plunge?"
"Current events," I reply without a beat, and I'm not exactly sure why I said that.
"You've got to take care of her, Larry," Miranda moves closer to me and Cody, "Get her to be cool again. This shaved head is a start, but I know she needs you to bring her back to the real life."
"Yes, sir," Larry replies, making another weird hand gesture. I might need a picture dictionary.
I wish I could tell you I know everything will be okay now. That I will really stop loving Kate, that I won't come home to a bruised Matt. That I'll forget about Lanny entirely. That I'll make friends with a lot of people, and not depend solely on Miranda or Kate. That I'll balance time between others and myself. That I'll never forget who I am again.
But if I did, I'd be lying.
And Lizzie McGuire just doesn't do that.
When the friends are gone
When the party's over
We'll still belong
To each other.
