..:One-Legged Pigeon:..
A/N: Have you noticed that the chapter titles so far have to do with little similes and metaphors along the course of the chapter? I didn't mean for it be like that, but it seems cool.
Guess what? I'm going to try to get some of my work published. Isn't that awesome!? Only, I have not much of an idea how to, so if anyone, ANYONE, even has the slightest idea, please feel free to e-mail me at lost_cause45@hotmail.com or s_mittal12@yahoo.com. I love hearing from you all, and I'm really serious about this. I might get Dakota Sunshine published.
Anyone watch American Idol here? Just wondering because I do... Go Diana!!! Go George!!!
***
Lizzie's POV
"Wanna go see a movie or something?" Gordo asked, sipping his cappuccino.
I didn't scream 'oh my god!'. I didn't get up and start dancing. I didn't even smile. He wasn't asking me out, I knew that for sure. How? Miranda and Larry were sitting right there, for one. He was asking all of us. Two, Gordo had a half-girlfriend, Steph the slut.
Larry shrugged. "Um... sure... what do you want to see?"
"Something romantic!" Miranda exclaimed eagerly.
This time I smiled. The more romantic, the better. All that flirting, all that romantic tension... it was the perfect atmosphere to make a little tiny move on Gordo. If I sat next to him. Which I probably would, since Miranda would be practically in Larry's lap.
Gordo groaned. "No! No chick flicks. I need something funny."
"Blood and gore." Larry suggested.
"We saw that gross movie last week!" Miranda frowned. "It's me and Lizzie's time to pick. Liz, what do you want?"
I shrugged.
I preferred we see a gushy chick flick, but it seemed like my opinion wasn't going to matter much, no matter what I said. And anyway, it's not like Gordo was asking me out, so I didn't care.
"Okay. Romantic comedy it is!" Miranda smiled. "How about Tears of Joy?"
I shrugged, and so did everyone else.
I caught Gordo's eye and smiled discreetly to myself.
***
"So, how's Steph?" I asked, carrying my popcorn into the theater. Making a casual conversation. The perfect way to talk a lot about something and yet you're positive he doesn't know that you're deeply crushing on him. Especially if you talk about his girlfriend.
"Fine... but I don't think she considers us as a couple." He said, looking a little hurt. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, not bearing the fact that he was in pain. "What makes you think that?" I said in a way so it looked like pure curiosity.
"I—I saw.. well... I don't think I should tell you." He frowned, taking a seat in the back row of the movie theater, our usual spot.
"Gordo, aren't I your best friend?" I whispered as I sat down next to him, cheering myself on.
"Yeah..."
"You can tell me anything. Especially stuff about girls, because I can help." I smiled at him, thrilled that we were having such a deep conversation.
"Steph's not a *girl*, Lizzie, she's a *woman*."
I could've slapped him right then and there. A *woman*, he says? A WOMAN!? Was I not 'woman' enough for him? Just because she dressed in skimpy clothes and was a perfect 100 pounds did NOT make her a woman! I was a woman. I was conservative, nice, loving. And he says I'm not a woman? But STEPH is?
I gritted my teeth, glad that the lights were down so he couldn't see. "Oh, sorry, my bad." I rolled my eyes sarcastically. "A woman. Stephanie is a woman."
"What's your problem?" He asked.
I sighed. He was making this so difficult! "Look, Gordo, what's wrong?"
He looked down at the spilled popcorn at his feet. "She was with another guy."
I smiled to myself. This was a dream come true! "Do you know this for a fact?" I asked, more for my intention than his.
"Yeah, I saw her making out with him a few days ago... it's no big deal." He shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. Gordo was probably the worst faker in the history of the universe. It was definitely a big deal; you could tell that by just looking at his insecure posture and depressed expression. His eyes, although I couldn't see as well in the dim light, were clouded over like the sun in a storm, and there was nothing more I wanted at that moment than to kiss him.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, scooting closer to him, wondering if this was a significant 'love signal'.
"You don't have to be." He said, looking so sincere I almost melted. "It's not your fault... It doesn't matter anyway."
"Sorry I brought it up, then." I looked him right in the eye. His eyes were the key to his thoughts, his soul. A complete open house. I swear, if you would just look into his eyes for five short minutes, you could tell what he was thinking, wishing, regretting... And right now they were saying that he hadn't been more hurt in years.
He smiled faintly, and his eyes glimmered, the sun peeking through the clouds. "You're a good person, Lizzie."
I blushed, thanking god that it was too dark to see it. "Not really." I beamed modestly.
"Oh, shut up."
There it was. That romantic tension. I had been waiting for this, the seems- like-never-ending silence that was the cause of many tender and passionate moments between people. I was just frozen, not even a giggle, and he was just looking at me for no apparent reason.
KISS HIM!
A flashing neon sign was putting my mind in agonizing pain. People protesting, parading around my head carrying signs of KISS HIM, YOU FOOL! It was nearly driving me to a point of insanity. I had to kiss him. It was the right moment. He had sort of unofficially broken up with his girlfriend, and here he was, pouring out his soul (or at least a minor synonym of that), and the perfect moment, a glint of silence, made it absolutely magical.
And so I gathered up my guts, licked my teeth, and began, at a rate that it was practically unnoticeable, to lean forward. Turtle-speed. He seemed to have overlooked it and was still kind of staring at me, which made me wonder if he had ever brooded over my eyes. And after about two and one- tenth inches, I stopped. This was a mistake.
'No, not a mistake.' I thought. 'This is cowardliness.' I was so petrified, so horrified that I couldn't go on. No wonder people like Steph got guys they wanted. They had the self-confidence and the major ego to go with it. They were bold and daring, unlike me, Lizzie McGuire, the one-legged pigeon, too frightened to hop across a busy intersection. The one-winged pigeon that was so spineless, it didn't even have enough courage to fly.
I was a coward.
SCAREDY-CAT, SCAREDY-CAT! The people chanted, waving their signs higher.
I sighed lightly and sunk back into my chair, breaking the romantic tension like a twig. And this was all in a matter of seconds.
He turned away as the previews ended and the lights dimmed to a point of pitch-black darkness.
I mentally smacked myself in the head. I should've kissed him! What on earth was I thinking!? It was my one chance, maybe even my last one, to express my feelings for him, and I had just turned around and avoided it?
Stupid one-legged pigeon.
I sat back firmly, almost destroying my chair, furious with myself. And just as I was thinking that life couldn't possibly get any worse than this, it does. Here came Steph the slut, marching down the isle, showing off her perfect body and her strip-club clothes in her perfect catwalk with her large butt which I would've liked to kick right then.
"Hey, sweetie." She drawled in a sickeningly-sweet tone which would've made me throw up right at her perfectly-fitting, six-inch-high Gucci leather high heels. She winked at Gordo, kissed his cheek, and sat down on the other side of him, although it seemed like she was mostly sitting *on* him.
I clenched my fists. How dare she show up at *my* romance chance and seduce *my* man? Gordo was mine. I knew that, she knew that, and he... he'd know that soon enough. And, even after knowing this, evil little Stephanie Malloy brushes her lips across his and trails her Malibu Barbie manicured nail across his cheek. What really ticks me off though, isn't the fact that she was hitting on him. No. It was that he was falling for it, buying the crap she was selling, looking at her all googly-eyed and star-struck like she was some kind of goddess.
He blinked. "Hey... Steph."
She grinned, showing off her smile that she probably worked on for years. "I know you're wondering why I'm not with Jason anymore, and that's because I found out he was a real jerk. And so, I remembered you, baby." She kissed him lightly and I fumed. "I love you."
I almost snorted. Did this little miss thing think she actually knew what love *was*? Love was not a sentence. It was a feeling. A genuine feeling, which I had for Gordo. That was love. Love. Ha. I bet she had never been in real love before. Just fake, artificial feelings for shoulder-to-lean-on guys who just melted at the sight of her. That was love in her book.
Surely Gordo wouldn't fall for this.
He kissed her back. "I love you too." And before I knew it, they were making out like lovesick teenagers.
I burned. He was KISSING her! Sticking his tongue in her mouth! Messing around with her hair! They were kissing as if they hadn't seen each other in centuries. And as my thoughts tumbled on, about how Gordo could be so incredibly dumb, I felt a little microscopic tear in my eye. It grew bigger and bigger until it was too big for my eye sockets to carry, so it dripped down my cheek and over my mouth and off my chin and landed in my lap.
I was crying.
I tried to stop it—I really did—but the tears kept on coming. It just wasn't *fair*. How could someone so intelligent, so generous, so KIND, love someone like Steph? Why? God hated me. Gordo hated me. Everyone hated me. I couldn't be loved; I wasn't worthy of love.
I hastily got up from my seat and scurried out the door, leaving the two lovers to mingle. I didn't care. I forced myself to not care. So what if they got married, had children, died together? So what? Everything was Gordo's choice, and Gordo's choice was Steph, not the one-legged pigeon who can't even stick up for herself.
I walked slowly out the door of the theater, and soon I was wallowing in self-pity, wandering in the rain, not sure, not *caring* where I was headed. I needed to get away. Away from it all, Steph and Gordo and love and my stupid feelings.
Why did I have to go and fall for Gordo? He had a girlfriend. He had a life. But he was so... perfect. Not a flaw in his soul. He was the kind of person that made you glad you were still alive to be with him. He cared about everyone and everything. No wonder so many girls liked him.
No wonder I had fallen in love with him.
I shivered as I lay down in the grass on the side of the road, practically in the middle of nowhere. There were cars speeding past on the highway, looking at me like I were on the verge of committing suicide. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. Lying in the grass, soaking to death with rain and mud seeping through my clothes and turning my flesh stone-cold, wishing I were dead. That was pretty much suicidal.
I looked up and saw gray clouds, millions of them, milling around like ants on an ant farm, covering up the sunlight. Except for one spot. That spot was cloud free, and although it was so small, nearly microscopic, I saw it and whispered like a child holding a star:
"I wish I was more like Steph."
I thought about my statement, and decided to change it.
"Well, no, not like Steph, but pretty. Popular. Famous. Rich. Someone Gordo would fall for. And I wish Gordo was happy. Yeah, that's what I wish for. Gordo should be happy. And so should I." I smiled after justifying what I wanted. "Do you hear me, God?"
A bolt of lightening symbolized his response.
I sighed and closed my eyes, letting the rain beat harder down on me. "Like that's ever going to happen."
A/N: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.... Review please! ^_^
A/N: Have you noticed that the chapter titles so far have to do with little similes and metaphors along the course of the chapter? I didn't mean for it be like that, but it seems cool.
Guess what? I'm going to try to get some of my work published. Isn't that awesome!? Only, I have not much of an idea how to, so if anyone, ANYONE, even has the slightest idea, please feel free to e-mail me at lost_cause45@hotmail.com or s_mittal12@yahoo.com. I love hearing from you all, and I'm really serious about this. I might get Dakota Sunshine published.
Anyone watch American Idol here? Just wondering because I do... Go Diana!!! Go George!!!
***
Lizzie's POV
"Wanna go see a movie or something?" Gordo asked, sipping his cappuccino.
I didn't scream 'oh my god!'. I didn't get up and start dancing. I didn't even smile. He wasn't asking me out, I knew that for sure. How? Miranda and Larry were sitting right there, for one. He was asking all of us. Two, Gordo had a half-girlfriend, Steph the slut.
Larry shrugged. "Um... sure... what do you want to see?"
"Something romantic!" Miranda exclaimed eagerly.
This time I smiled. The more romantic, the better. All that flirting, all that romantic tension... it was the perfect atmosphere to make a little tiny move on Gordo. If I sat next to him. Which I probably would, since Miranda would be practically in Larry's lap.
Gordo groaned. "No! No chick flicks. I need something funny."
"Blood and gore." Larry suggested.
"We saw that gross movie last week!" Miranda frowned. "It's me and Lizzie's time to pick. Liz, what do you want?"
I shrugged.
I preferred we see a gushy chick flick, but it seemed like my opinion wasn't going to matter much, no matter what I said. And anyway, it's not like Gordo was asking me out, so I didn't care.
"Okay. Romantic comedy it is!" Miranda smiled. "How about Tears of Joy?"
I shrugged, and so did everyone else.
I caught Gordo's eye and smiled discreetly to myself.
***
"So, how's Steph?" I asked, carrying my popcorn into the theater. Making a casual conversation. The perfect way to talk a lot about something and yet you're positive he doesn't know that you're deeply crushing on him. Especially if you talk about his girlfriend.
"Fine... but I don't think she considers us as a couple." He said, looking a little hurt. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, not bearing the fact that he was in pain. "What makes you think that?" I said in a way so it looked like pure curiosity.
"I—I saw.. well... I don't think I should tell you." He frowned, taking a seat in the back row of the movie theater, our usual spot.
"Gordo, aren't I your best friend?" I whispered as I sat down next to him, cheering myself on.
"Yeah..."
"You can tell me anything. Especially stuff about girls, because I can help." I smiled at him, thrilled that we were having such a deep conversation.
"Steph's not a *girl*, Lizzie, she's a *woman*."
I could've slapped him right then and there. A *woman*, he says? A WOMAN!? Was I not 'woman' enough for him? Just because she dressed in skimpy clothes and was a perfect 100 pounds did NOT make her a woman! I was a woman. I was conservative, nice, loving. And he says I'm not a woman? But STEPH is?
I gritted my teeth, glad that the lights were down so he couldn't see. "Oh, sorry, my bad." I rolled my eyes sarcastically. "A woman. Stephanie is a woman."
"What's your problem?" He asked.
I sighed. He was making this so difficult! "Look, Gordo, what's wrong?"
He looked down at the spilled popcorn at his feet. "She was with another guy."
I smiled to myself. This was a dream come true! "Do you know this for a fact?" I asked, more for my intention than his.
"Yeah, I saw her making out with him a few days ago... it's no big deal." He shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. Gordo was probably the worst faker in the history of the universe. It was definitely a big deal; you could tell that by just looking at his insecure posture and depressed expression. His eyes, although I couldn't see as well in the dim light, were clouded over like the sun in a storm, and there was nothing more I wanted at that moment than to kiss him.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, scooting closer to him, wondering if this was a significant 'love signal'.
"You don't have to be." He said, looking so sincere I almost melted. "It's not your fault... It doesn't matter anyway."
"Sorry I brought it up, then." I looked him right in the eye. His eyes were the key to his thoughts, his soul. A complete open house. I swear, if you would just look into his eyes for five short minutes, you could tell what he was thinking, wishing, regretting... And right now they were saying that he hadn't been more hurt in years.
He smiled faintly, and his eyes glimmered, the sun peeking through the clouds. "You're a good person, Lizzie."
I blushed, thanking god that it was too dark to see it. "Not really." I beamed modestly.
"Oh, shut up."
There it was. That romantic tension. I had been waiting for this, the seems- like-never-ending silence that was the cause of many tender and passionate moments between people. I was just frozen, not even a giggle, and he was just looking at me for no apparent reason.
KISS HIM!
A flashing neon sign was putting my mind in agonizing pain. People protesting, parading around my head carrying signs of KISS HIM, YOU FOOL! It was nearly driving me to a point of insanity. I had to kiss him. It was the right moment. He had sort of unofficially broken up with his girlfriend, and here he was, pouring out his soul (or at least a minor synonym of that), and the perfect moment, a glint of silence, made it absolutely magical.
And so I gathered up my guts, licked my teeth, and began, at a rate that it was practically unnoticeable, to lean forward. Turtle-speed. He seemed to have overlooked it and was still kind of staring at me, which made me wonder if he had ever brooded over my eyes. And after about two and one- tenth inches, I stopped. This was a mistake.
'No, not a mistake.' I thought. 'This is cowardliness.' I was so petrified, so horrified that I couldn't go on. No wonder people like Steph got guys they wanted. They had the self-confidence and the major ego to go with it. They were bold and daring, unlike me, Lizzie McGuire, the one-legged pigeon, too frightened to hop across a busy intersection. The one-winged pigeon that was so spineless, it didn't even have enough courage to fly.
I was a coward.
SCAREDY-CAT, SCAREDY-CAT! The people chanted, waving their signs higher.
I sighed lightly and sunk back into my chair, breaking the romantic tension like a twig. And this was all in a matter of seconds.
He turned away as the previews ended and the lights dimmed to a point of pitch-black darkness.
I mentally smacked myself in the head. I should've kissed him! What on earth was I thinking!? It was my one chance, maybe even my last one, to express my feelings for him, and I had just turned around and avoided it?
Stupid one-legged pigeon.
I sat back firmly, almost destroying my chair, furious with myself. And just as I was thinking that life couldn't possibly get any worse than this, it does. Here came Steph the slut, marching down the isle, showing off her perfect body and her strip-club clothes in her perfect catwalk with her large butt which I would've liked to kick right then.
"Hey, sweetie." She drawled in a sickeningly-sweet tone which would've made me throw up right at her perfectly-fitting, six-inch-high Gucci leather high heels. She winked at Gordo, kissed his cheek, and sat down on the other side of him, although it seemed like she was mostly sitting *on* him.
I clenched my fists. How dare she show up at *my* romance chance and seduce *my* man? Gordo was mine. I knew that, she knew that, and he... he'd know that soon enough. And, even after knowing this, evil little Stephanie Malloy brushes her lips across his and trails her Malibu Barbie manicured nail across his cheek. What really ticks me off though, isn't the fact that she was hitting on him. No. It was that he was falling for it, buying the crap she was selling, looking at her all googly-eyed and star-struck like she was some kind of goddess.
He blinked. "Hey... Steph."
She grinned, showing off her smile that she probably worked on for years. "I know you're wondering why I'm not with Jason anymore, and that's because I found out he was a real jerk. And so, I remembered you, baby." She kissed him lightly and I fumed. "I love you."
I almost snorted. Did this little miss thing think she actually knew what love *was*? Love was not a sentence. It was a feeling. A genuine feeling, which I had for Gordo. That was love. Love. Ha. I bet she had never been in real love before. Just fake, artificial feelings for shoulder-to-lean-on guys who just melted at the sight of her. That was love in her book.
Surely Gordo wouldn't fall for this.
He kissed her back. "I love you too." And before I knew it, they were making out like lovesick teenagers.
I burned. He was KISSING her! Sticking his tongue in her mouth! Messing around with her hair! They were kissing as if they hadn't seen each other in centuries. And as my thoughts tumbled on, about how Gordo could be so incredibly dumb, I felt a little microscopic tear in my eye. It grew bigger and bigger until it was too big for my eye sockets to carry, so it dripped down my cheek and over my mouth and off my chin and landed in my lap.
I was crying.
I tried to stop it—I really did—but the tears kept on coming. It just wasn't *fair*. How could someone so intelligent, so generous, so KIND, love someone like Steph? Why? God hated me. Gordo hated me. Everyone hated me. I couldn't be loved; I wasn't worthy of love.
I hastily got up from my seat and scurried out the door, leaving the two lovers to mingle. I didn't care. I forced myself to not care. So what if they got married, had children, died together? So what? Everything was Gordo's choice, and Gordo's choice was Steph, not the one-legged pigeon who can't even stick up for herself.
I walked slowly out the door of the theater, and soon I was wallowing in self-pity, wandering in the rain, not sure, not *caring* where I was headed. I needed to get away. Away from it all, Steph and Gordo and love and my stupid feelings.
Why did I have to go and fall for Gordo? He had a girlfriend. He had a life. But he was so... perfect. Not a flaw in his soul. He was the kind of person that made you glad you were still alive to be with him. He cared about everyone and everything. No wonder so many girls liked him.
No wonder I had fallen in love with him.
I shivered as I lay down in the grass on the side of the road, practically in the middle of nowhere. There were cars speeding past on the highway, looking at me like I were on the verge of committing suicide. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. Lying in the grass, soaking to death with rain and mud seeping through my clothes and turning my flesh stone-cold, wishing I were dead. That was pretty much suicidal.
I looked up and saw gray clouds, millions of them, milling around like ants on an ant farm, covering up the sunlight. Except for one spot. That spot was cloud free, and although it was so small, nearly microscopic, I saw it and whispered like a child holding a star:
"I wish I was more like Steph."
I thought about my statement, and decided to change it.
"Well, no, not like Steph, but pretty. Popular. Famous. Rich. Someone Gordo would fall for. And I wish Gordo was happy. Yeah, that's what I wish for. Gordo should be happy. And so should I." I smiled after justifying what I wanted. "Do you hear me, God?"
A bolt of lightening symbolized his response.
I sighed and closed my eyes, letting the rain beat harder down on me. "Like that's ever going to happen."
A/N: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.... Review please! ^_^