In The Dust

A/N: It's summer… which means no homework… which means more time to write. Yay. Sorry, I always put a lot of breaks in between chapters and what not, but I do have a life. Here goes Chapter 8!

Chapter 8: Oh, The Places You'll Go

What seemed like ten million feet below me, patches of grass looked more brown than green. Maybe it was my pessimistic side showing, or maybe it was just because I had been focusing on the same spot for too long. But I had started to see the bad side of everything.

Take the 40-something year old woman sitting next to me. She could have been presentable, if her suit wasn't wrinkled and she wasn't drooling over her overly permed hair. Don't ask why I had been criticizing her outfit. Too much time around two complete girls does that to you. But if I had been in a better mood, I would have just smiled and ignored her.

I couldn't really figure out which was bugging me more: the fact that Lizzie pretty much rejected me, or the fact that I had even asked her to come. With all this time to think, I had realized that there are probably way more options in the world than just a girl I've known since the diaper stages. I'm going to LA, damnit. There's got to be at least one girl who's perfect for me there. Not someone who would first say she needs me, then throw me out like last week's leftovers.

I opened my carry-on bag looking for my CD player. Somehow I thought that listening to emo would make me feel better. Bad choice. First I was into the song, entitled "I'll Never Have Her", thinking it was about unrequited love or whatever. But once I figured out it was a twentysomething guy trying to get with an 80 year old grandmother, I decided to turn it off. But as I reached into the bag to find The Da Vinci Code, I found something quite different.

It looked like a gift. It was something thin and rectangular, the shape of a kid's book, and it was wrapped in red paper. On the front was a gift tag, which read "to Gordo". It was Lizzie's handwriting. Somehow she must have snuck it into my bag. I contemplated opening it, and I finally decided to read it.

It was a children's book. A classic children's book. It was Dr. Seuss's Oh, The Places You'll Go!I opened it, and a letter inside an envelope fell onto the lady next to me. I grabbed it from her gently, trying not to wake her (because I could clearly imagine what would happen if I did wake her), and opened it. It was a greeting card, with Congratulations! written on the front. It read:

Dear Gordo,

Maybe I should call you David, now that you'll be famous. But that's okay. I'll feel special, being the only one calling you Gordo. It would just be awkward calling you David. How about Dave? Um… nah.

Getting to the point now. I'm really going to miss you for the next half of a year. Wow. You'll be miles away from me for half a year. Ironic. You've never left my side before. I won't have a shoulder to cry on for the next six months. I won't have a guy point of view for the next six months. I won't have my best friend in the galaxy for the next six months. But that's okay, because I know you're going on to bigger and better things, like LA.

I feel selfish. Hollywood needs to experience the David Gordon Experience like all of us in Hillridge have. And although I know I should just be happy for you, I feel the strongest urge to hold you back. I feel incomplete without you. I need you here with me. I know we'll take different paths in the future, but can't that just wait until the time is right?

Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? I feel like your mother, giving you praise like this. But I really am proud. I don't want you to ever feel like no one is proud, because I always will be, no matter what happens between us. You're one amazing person, as a friend, as a filmmaker, as a son, as whatever else you are to anyone. I don't ever want you to change yourself because you feel like you have to. You're an individual, and that's what everyone loves about you, especially me.

Before you head into the City of Angels, read this. And remember to remember us. Call us, write us, or just think about us. Because we will be thinking about you.

Love, Lizzie

I folded it back into the envelope and put it into my bag quickly. Part of me wanted to tear it to pieces and burn it. I mean, how can someone say something like that to a person and then reject them just days later? But the other part of me said that I should keep it, reflect on it, follow it. I decided that I would keep it. Just not reflect on it. Iglanced out of the window again, staring at those patches of grass and imagining a big city, full of skyscrapers and second chances.

E/N: Eh. Not my best. But it's 11 at night. I'll have a new chapter up soon?