[A/N: Hello there, everyone! To those of you who read and reviewed the
first chapter, my thanks and prayers go out to you! Thank you, thank you,
thank you! You don't know how much your support makes an impact on my
writing!
Well, here is the next installment. I'm sorry it took so long. :Blush: I'm always getting caught up in school work or a play that I'm in and such, so I decided to use my Spring Break to get the ball rolling on this chapter. This chapter, as well as the rest of the story from here on out, is set a year or so before the Prologue. So, hopefully you will like it! :Crosses fingers: Enjoy!]
Chapter 1
Could this day get any worse? That was the question Lizzie asked herself as she scrambled to her locker and raced to open it. She was late to art again, and Miss Douglass was sure to bust her after being tardy several days in a row. Quickly, she gathered her sketchpad, a few loose pencils, and her portfolio from the depths of her locker and threw them into her canvas bag.
As she hurried up the steps to the second floor art lab, her mind ran over the disastrous happenings of the day. The morning started off with a bang when her mother borrowed the top she was planning on wearing to school today. After much bickering, Lizzie reluctantly chose another top that "so totally did not match" (Lizzie's words, of course) her pants. She hadn't made it to first period yet before another disaster occurred. Kate, after spotting Lizzie's "uncoordinated excuse for an outfit" (Kate's words, of course) threw a few unnecessary comments Lizzie's way. To say the least, Lizzie was steamed. Not even consoling words from her friends cold calm Lizzie's fury. Come third period, Lizzie heard the whole school buzzing about Kate's comments. People were talking about Lizzie and her "fashion disaster" in hushed whispers everywhere, it seemed. Even as she received a failing score on the English essay she'd slaved hours over, Lizzie sensed people gossiping behind her back. At lunch, she was so upset, she didn't even bother eating. Instead, she headed straight to the ladies' room, hid in the very last stall, and cried the whole period. Why did people have to be so cruel? she wondered. Didn't anyone at her school have at least an ounce of compassion in them?
Ding, ding! Lizzie's thoughts were interrupted by the bell. "Oh, shoot, I'm late!" Lizzie cried to no one in particular as she ran up the remaining set of stairs. In her panic, she felt her canvas bag slip from her grip and the contents went sprawling down the stairs. Choking back tears of frustration, Lizzie frantically rounded up all her belongings. Why me? she asked herself for the umpteenth time that day. After a few minutes, she'd finally gathered the contents of her bag and scurried off again, sprinting down the hall and into the art lab.
Cheeks flushed and panting, Lizzie slipped into the art lab as quietly as she could, as not to attract any attention. Unfortunately, she could feel all eyes peering at her as she walked past, feeling self- conscious and averting her eyes to the ground. Miranda shot her a sympathetic glance as Lizzie slid into the seat beside her, clutching her canvas bag.
"Lizzie, as I was telling the class before you so kindly graced us with your presence," Miss Douglass said, her harsh voice ringing through the cold classroom. Lizzie's classmates snickered, and she felt a deep red blush creep over her face.
Miss Douglass continued, "This semester, a large percentage of your grade-- I forget how much exactly-- will come from a group project. Sure, you will do small assignments in class that will make up a small portion of your grade, but this big project is to be done outside of class in your free time."
"What free time?" Miranda grumbled satirically under her breath, which produced a small giggle from Lizzie.
"Ms. McGuire, I'd suggest you listen to this. I'm delivering this speech especially for you," Miss Douglass snapped, her sharp eyes drilling into Lizzie's skin. Lizzie's eyes brimmed with tears. She was having such a terrible day, and what now? She had to deal with these Satan-like teachers? She gulped back tears and tried to focus on what Miss Douglass was saying.
"I will, however, give you some time to discuss the project in class with your partner tomorrow when I officially assign and explain the project. " Miss Douglass turned to Lizzie, a fiend-like smile plastered on her thin lips. "Lizzie, I have already let the class choose partners. But since you were late, I have paired you with...." Miss Douglass checked her notes.
Lizzie said a silent prayer. Oh, God, if there even IS a God, I am having the worst day. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LET THIS HAPPEN TO ME? You're the one who controls the universe, why couldn't you have dumped a day like this on some jerk like Kate? WHY ME? I've never done anything to you! If you're supposed to be so just, so loving, prove it and get me a good partner!
".... Ethan Craft, who is absent today," Miss Douglass finished.
Lizzie's heart skipped a beat. Ethan Craft? Ethan Craft?! So there IS a God!
***
As soon as Lizzie got home from school, she took a long, hot shower and washed away all the terrible memories of the day. Miranda and Gordo were supposed to stop at Amy Joy after school with her to get doughnuts and talk, but they had to cancel at the last moment. Miranda had mandatory choir practice, and Gordo's family took a trip to the hospital to visit his sick aunt. Lost in thought, Lizzie reluctantly stepped out of the steamy shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy blue towel. In a way, she was glad her friends had cancelled on her. All she wanted to do after the terrible day was curl up in bed and forget about the past day's events. After drying off and putting on her soft terry cloth robe, Lizzie dove into bed, covered herself in her heavy purple comforter, and slipped on her headphones.
In a way, she was a tad bit jealous of Gordo and Miranda. Both had friends outside of school--Miranda's from various band camps and choirs, Gordo's from the synagogue--and led active lives. In essence, Lizzie's life WAS Miranda and Gordo. She recalled this past summer. Lizzie spent her first month of summer vacation around the house, bored out of her mind while Miranda and Gordo were off at camp or on vacation, having the time of their lives. That month, she had felt this miserable, lonely feeling in the pit of her stomach Although she couldn't put her finger on the exact emotion she was experiencing, the feeling had left her empty and yearning for.... She didn't know. But, speak of the devil! It seemed that same stomach feeling was seizing hold of her again.
Grabbing the latest issue of Seventeen magazine off the floor, Lizzie began to flip through it to distract herself from that horrible "pit feeling", as she called it. After a few minutes of pretending to read the magazine, she couldn't shake that hollow gnawing in the pit of her stomach.
She glanced down at the magazine. A beautiful, skinny girl with highlighted hair, perfect white teeth, and a bare belly graced the cover, surrounded in headlines such as "Dress Like the Celebs!", "How to Get That Guy!", and "Are You Sexy? Take our quiz!" Lizzie scowled. All those things had been so important to her yesterday. Why weren't they today? The answer hit Lizzie like a tidal wave.
They were the cause of the lonely "pit feeling"! Hair, make-up, clothing, fantasies about boys, and pop culture in general: they gave her life exactly zero meaning. Whenever Lizzie's friends ditched her, she ran with open arms to material possessions, only to find they left her feeling worse than before. The magazine had promised her a perfect life in those things. 'Well, it lied,' Lizzie thought dejectedly. Her life, though appearing perfect on the surface, was anything but. A single tear rolled down Lizzie's cheek. Lizzie wanted a change in her life; she wanted to find true happiness. 'I want more out of life than sitting at home depressed with endless copies of Seventeen!' she thought to herself. 'I'm worth more than that!'
Her life. It lacked fulfillment. It lacked meaning. It lacked something.
***
Jo McGuire sensed something was wrong with Lizzie the second she got home from school that afternoon. Lizzie didn't stop in the kitchen for her usual glass of juice and granola bar, but instead headed silently to her room, only leaving the comfort of its four walls to take a steamy, hour- long shower. As Jo's mother always said when Jo was a girl, "The longer the shower, the bigger the problem".
So, it didn't come as a surprise to Jo when Lizzie refused to talk at all at dinner An awkward silence hung in the air as Lizzie pushed the food around on her plate with an absent look on her face. Even the insulting remarks thrown at Lizzie from Matt's end of the table couldn't provoke Lizzie to a response.
"Mom?" Lizzie suddenly spoke in a small voice.
"Yes, honey?" Mrs. McGuire returned with eager eyes. Was Lizzie was ready to talk about whatever was gnawing at her?
"May I be excused?"
Mrs. McGuire's face fell. "Oh, honey...Why don't you finish up your—"
Ding dong! Jo's sentence was interrupted by the doorbell.
"I'll get it!" Matt cried jumping from his seat, anxious to escape his family's uncomfortable state of silence (not to mention his mother's tuna casserole).
"No, you sit down and eat your dinner," Jo commanded her son. "I'll get it."
"I wonder who that could be at dinnertime?" Mr. McGuire wondered aloud, speaking for the first time throughout the course of the meal. No one responded to Sam McGuire's comment, and in a way, no one cared. Financial upkeep and unpaid bills were running through Sam's unhappy mind, while Lizzie's brain kept replaying the events of the past school day. Even Matt's mind was occupied with strategies for outsmarting Lanny in "Space Hillbillies", a new favorite video game of theirs. Lizzie, however, looked the most pathetic of the group, slumped over her mashed potatoes and forehead creased in deep thought. Exhaustion played about her face, pulling her eyelids over her tired hazel eyes.
When Mrs. McGuire stepped back into the room, she would have laughed at the sorry state of her family and their failure to hold a decent conversation without her. Rather, she announced, "Lizzie, someone's here to see you."
Lizzie, looking up from her plate with a puzzled expression on her face, got up from her seat and walked into the foyer. There, Gordo was waiting for her with a huge box of Amy Joy doughnuts in his hands and a small smile on his face.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said.
A small silence followed, and then both spoke at once.
"I just stopped—"
"What are you doing--?"
They laughed.
"You first," Lizzie said, a tiny smile playing at the edges of her mouth.
"Well," Gordo said, looking into Lizzie's eyes meaningfully. "I know you kind of had a rough time at school today, and I really wish we could have talked about it today at Amy Joy ...So here." He placed the warm box in her arms and the scent of melted chocolate mingled with Gordo's spicy colon overtook her senses. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm all ears."
Lizzie wanted to laugh at Gordo's cliché use of words, but instead, tears pricked at her eyes. These tears, much unlike the ones Lizzie cried earlier today, were tears of joy. Shooting Gordo a watery smile, Lizzie set the box down and enveloped Gordo in a warm hug, burying her face into his broad shoulder. Enveloped in the comfort of his arms, she felt a shiver run through her. She felt loved for the first time that day. She didn't tell him how much this meant to her, knowing that someone cared enough about her to comfort her in her darkest hours—it was already said.
Well, here is the next installment. I'm sorry it took so long. :Blush: I'm always getting caught up in school work or a play that I'm in and such, so I decided to use my Spring Break to get the ball rolling on this chapter. This chapter, as well as the rest of the story from here on out, is set a year or so before the Prologue. So, hopefully you will like it! :Crosses fingers: Enjoy!]
Chapter 1
Could this day get any worse? That was the question Lizzie asked herself as she scrambled to her locker and raced to open it. She was late to art again, and Miss Douglass was sure to bust her after being tardy several days in a row. Quickly, she gathered her sketchpad, a few loose pencils, and her portfolio from the depths of her locker and threw them into her canvas bag.
As she hurried up the steps to the second floor art lab, her mind ran over the disastrous happenings of the day. The morning started off with a bang when her mother borrowed the top she was planning on wearing to school today. After much bickering, Lizzie reluctantly chose another top that "so totally did not match" (Lizzie's words, of course) her pants. She hadn't made it to first period yet before another disaster occurred. Kate, after spotting Lizzie's "uncoordinated excuse for an outfit" (Kate's words, of course) threw a few unnecessary comments Lizzie's way. To say the least, Lizzie was steamed. Not even consoling words from her friends cold calm Lizzie's fury. Come third period, Lizzie heard the whole school buzzing about Kate's comments. People were talking about Lizzie and her "fashion disaster" in hushed whispers everywhere, it seemed. Even as she received a failing score on the English essay she'd slaved hours over, Lizzie sensed people gossiping behind her back. At lunch, she was so upset, she didn't even bother eating. Instead, she headed straight to the ladies' room, hid in the very last stall, and cried the whole period. Why did people have to be so cruel? she wondered. Didn't anyone at her school have at least an ounce of compassion in them?
Ding, ding! Lizzie's thoughts were interrupted by the bell. "Oh, shoot, I'm late!" Lizzie cried to no one in particular as she ran up the remaining set of stairs. In her panic, she felt her canvas bag slip from her grip and the contents went sprawling down the stairs. Choking back tears of frustration, Lizzie frantically rounded up all her belongings. Why me? she asked herself for the umpteenth time that day. After a few minutes, she'd finally gathered the contents of her bag and scurried off again, sprinting down the hall and into the art lab.
Cheeks flushed and panting, Lizzie slipped into the art lab as quietly as she could, as not to attract any attention. Unfortunately, she could feel all eyes peering at her as she walked past, feeling self- conscious and averting her eyes to the ground. Miranda shot her a sympathetic glance as Lizzie slid into the seat beside her, clutching her canvas bag.
"Lizzie, as I was telling the class before you so kindly graced us with your presence," Miss Douglass said, her harsh voice ringing through the cold classroom. Lizzie's classmates snickered, and she felt a deep red blush creep over her face.
Miss Douglass continued, "This semester, a large percentage of your grade-- I forget how much exactly-- will come from a group project. Sure, you will do small assignments in class that will make up a small portion of your grade, but this big project is to be done outside of class in your free time."
"What free time?" Miranda grumbled satirically under her breath, which produced a small giggle from Lizzie.
"Ms. McGuire, I'd suggest you listen to this. I'm delivering this speech especially for you," Miss Douglass snapped, her sharp eyes drilling into Lizzie's skin. Lizzie's eyes brimmed with tears. She was having such a terrible day, and what now? She had to deal with these Satan-like teachers? She gulped back tears and tried to focus on what Miss Douglass was saying.
"I will, however, give you some time to discuss the project in class with your partner tomorrow when I officially assign and explain the project. " Miss Douglass turned to Lizzie, a fiend-like smile plastered on her thin lips. "Lizzie, I have already let the class choose partners. But since you were late, I have paired you with...." Miss Douglass checked her notes.
Lizzie said a silent prayer. Oh, God, if there even IS a God, I am having the worst day. WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LET THIS HAPPEN TO ME? You're the one who controls the universe, why couldn't you have dumped a day like this on some jerk like Kate? WHY ME? I've never done anything to you! If you're supposed to be so just, so loving, prove it and get me a good partner!
".... Ethan Craft, who is absent today," Miss Douglass finished.
Lizzie's heart skipped a beat. Ethan Craft? Ethan Craft?! So there IS a God!
***
As soon as Lizzie got home from school, she took a long, hot shower and washed away all the terrible memories of the day. Miranda and Gordo were supposed to stop at Amy Joy after school with her to get doughnuts and talk, but they had to cancel at the last moment. Miranda had mandatory choir practice, and Gordo's family took a trip to the hospital to visit his sick aunt. Lost in thought, Lizzie reluctantly stepped out of the steamy shower and wrapped herself in a fluffy blue towel. In a way, she was glad her friends had cancelled on her. All she wanted to do after the terrible day was curl up in bed and forget about the past day's events. After drying off and putting on her soft terry cloth robe, Lizzie dove into bed, covered herself in her heavy purple comforter, and slipped on her headphones.
In a way, she was a tad bit jealous of Gordo and Miranda. Both had friends outside of school--Miranda's from various band camps and choirs, Gordo's from the synagogue--and led active lives. In essence, Lizzie's life WAS Miranda and Gordo. She recalled this past summer. Lizzie spent her first month of summer vacation around the house, bored out of her mind while Miranda and Gordo were off at camp or on vacation, having the time of their lives. That month, she had felt this miserable, lonely feeling in the pit of her stomach Although she couldn't put her finger on the exact emotion she was experiencing, the feeling had left her empty and yearning for.... She didn't know. But, speak of the devil! It seemed that same stomach feeling was seizing hold of her again.
Grabbing the latest issue of Seventeen magazine off the floor, Lizzie began to flip through it to distract herself from that horrible "pit feeling", as she called it. After a few minutes of pretending to read the magazine, she couldn't shake that hollow gnawing in the pit of her stomach.
She glanced down at the magazine. A beautiful, skinny girl with highlighted hair, perfect white teeth, and a bare belly graced the cover, surrounded in headlines such as "Dress Like the Celebs!", "How to Get That Guy!", and "Are You Sexy? Take our quiz!" Lizzie scowled. All those things had been so important to her yesterday. Why weren't they today? The answer hit Lizzie like a tidal wave.
They were the cause of the lonely "pit feeling"! Hair, make-up, clothing, fantasies about boys, and pop culture in general: they gave her life exactly zero meaning. Whenever Lizzie's friends ditched her, she ran with open arms to material possessions, only to find they left her feeling worse than before. The magazine had promised her a perfect life in those things. 'Well, it lied,' Lizzie thought dejectedly. Her life, though appearing perfect on the surface, was anything but. A single tear rolled down Lizzie's cheek. Lizzie wanted a change in her life; she wanted to find true happiness. 'I want more out of life than sitting at home depressed with endless copies of Seventeen!' she thought to herself. 'I'm worth more than that!'
Her life. It lacked fulfillment. It lacked meaning. It lacked something.
***
Jo McGuire sensed something was wrong with Lizzie the second she got home from school that afternoon. Lizzie didn't stop in the kitchen for her usual glass of juice and granola bar, but instead headed silently to her room, only leaving the comfort of its four walls to take a steamy, hour- long shower. As Jo's mother always said when Jo was a girl, "The longer the shower, the bigger the problem".
So, it didn't come as a surprise to Jo when Lizzie refused to talk at all at dinner An awkward silence hung in the air as Lizzie pushed the food around on her plate with an absent look on her face. Even the insulting remarks thrown at Lizzie from Matt's end of the table couldn't provoke Lizzie to a response.
"Mom?" Lizzie suddenly spoke in a small voice.
"Yes, honey?" Mrs. McGuire returned with eager eyes. Was Lizzie was ready to talk about whatever was gnawing at her?
"May I be excused?"
Mrs. McGuire's face fell. "Oh, honey...Why don't you finish up your—"
Ding dong! Jo's sentence was interrupted by the doorbell.
"I'll get it!" Matt cried jumping from his seat, anxious to escape his family's uncomfortable state of silence (not to mention his mother's tuna casserole).
"No, you sit down and eat your dinner," Jo commanded her son. "I'll get it."
"I wonder who that could be at dinnertime?" Mr. McGuire wondered aloud, speaking for the first time throughout the course of the meal. No one responded to Sam McGuire's comment, and in a way, no one cared. Financial upkeep and unpaid bills were running through Sam's unhappy mind, while Lizzie's brain kept replaying the events of the past school day. Even Matt's mind was occupied with strategies for outsmarting Lanny in "Space Hillbillies", a new favorite video game of theirs. Lizzie, however, looked the most pathetic of the group, slumped over her mashed potatoes and forehead creased in deep thought. Exhaustion played about her face, pulling her eyelids over her tired hazel eyes.
When Mrs. McGuire stepped back into the room, she would have laughed at the sorry state of her family and their failure to hold a decent conversation without her. Rather, she announced, "Lizzie, someone's here to see you."
Lizzie, looking up from her plate with a puzzled expression on her face, got up from her seat and walked into the foyer. There, Gordo was waiting for her with a huge box of Amy Joy doughnuts in his hands and a small smile on his face.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she said.
A small silence followed, and then both spoke at once.
"I just stopped—"
"What are you doing--?"
They laughed.
"You first," Lizzie said, a tiny smile playing at the edges of her mouth.
"Well," Gordo said, looking into Lizzie's eyes meaningfully. "I know you kind of had a rough time at school today, and I really wish we could have talked about it today at Amy Joy ...So here." He placed the warm box in her arms and the scent of melted chocolate mingled with Gordo's spicy colon overtook her senses. "If you wanna talk about it, I'm all ears."
Lizzie wanted to laugh at Gordo's cliché use of words, but instead, tears pricked at her eyes. These tears, much unlike the ones Lizzie cried earlier today, were tears of joy. Shooting Gordo a watery smile, Lizzie set the box down and enveloped Gordo in a warm hug, burying her face into his broad shoulder. Enveloped in the comfort of his arms, she felt a shiver run through her. She felt loved for the first time that day. She didn't tell him how much this meant to her, knowing that someone cared enough about her to comfort her in her darkest hours—it was already said.