Here is a chapter of pure angst. Thankfully, it's on the short side. I didn't intend to go on even this long, but noneforgranted requested I don't skimp on the details, so I detailed the angst. I promise I won't keep Gordo in the pit forever. I do believe in happy endings, though there may yet be some more complications before this is all over.

I love all your comments! Please keep them coming! Green aura, I would like to answer your questions about Lizzie at a party, but I'm a little confused. Would you please clarify?

As for my NaNo, it is not a fanfiction, and my hope is to someday attempt to publish it. Should that ever happen, I would be sure to let absolutely everybody in the world know about it!

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Lizzie spent the first half of that night crying about Brett, and the remainder of it crying about Gordo. She didn't know which was worse---the way Brett had hurt her, or the way she had hurt Gordo.

The next day at school she looked terrible, her face swollen from too many tears, eyes bleary from lack of sleep. And she could not smile. No matter how much she tried, it hurt too much.

She saw Gordo before second period, going into his History class, like she always did. She approached him slowly, cautiously, noticing that he had that same puffy look about him that she had seen in the mirror that morning.

Hi, Gordo…" she began gently.

He shot her a death stare. "Don't even get near me," he said, pushing through the crowd into his classroom.

Man! He wished this day was over already. First Lizzie, and now here was Nicole, giving him a sad look with her big green eyes. He remembered how annoyed he had been by her persistent "Are you okay?" after the Mall Disaster. It appeared now that she might start that again. How much did she know? And how did she know?

That's right: Miranda, the Gossipmonger. If Lizzie talked to Miranda, Miranda no doubt talked to Nicole. Gordo could have no secrets from any of them. He hated Miranda!

No, he didn't actually hate Miranda. But he wasn't feeling entirely happy with himself at the moment. Yesterday at this time he had been excited about the idea of asking Nicole to go out with him. Today he felt ashamed, as if he had been cheating on her. Why would she want to go out with him if she thought that every time Lizzie stubbed her toe or bat her eyelashes he would run to her side? Not that he was going to do that anymore. Lizzie had made herself crystal clear. There was no hope. But in finding that out, Gordo was afraid he had ruined his chances with Nicole.

Well, that's all right, he decided. She deserves better than me anyway…

But at the end of class, Nicole walked directly over to Gordo and said straight-out, "Would you like to have lunch with me today?"

This shocked Gordo so much, but also made him feel more unworthy than ever. As he floundered for an answer, Nicole put on her big eyes and asked, "Is everything okay, Dave?"

"Yes," he lied, then, "No, I mean no. I mean, not the best. And no…I don't think lunch is a good idea today." She would want to talk, as girls always did, and he didn't want to talk. Not yet. He just wanted to be left alone so he could go home and go to sleep.

"I understand," Nicole said in a way that made it clear to Gordo that she already knew too much. Again he felt guilty and unworthy. He tried to move past her quickly so they wouldn't have to drag out this conversation for too long, but Nicole walked with him and said, "Well, maybe we could hang out over the weekend. Did you want to see the new Matrix movie?"

Gordo stared at her in disbelief. Was she asking him out on a date? Did she have no self-respect? Or did she really like him that much?

When he didn't answer for a while, Nicole suddenly took his hand and spread it out flat, using a blue pen to write on the palm of his hand."Here's my phone number," she said. "So you won't forget."

Forget? Didn't she realize he had committed her phone number to memory weeks ago? He couldn't forget it if he wanted to.

"Well, I gotta go," Nicole said. "Call me."

This was the only bright spot in an otherwise miserable day. Everything else that day seemed a blur, except for the familiar phone number on his left hand.

It was such a relief to finally be walking home. This was the beginning of the long Thanksgiving weekend. He was glad Uncle Martin, Aunt Suzie and Adam would be coming for a visit, but he didn't want to talk to anyone from school for at least 48 hours. Unless he made the decision to call Nicole. He still wasn't sure if he would. It was much too difficult to see anything clearly from this far down in the pit.

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"Davey, dear!" his mother called the moment he walked in the house. "Lizzie just phoned. I told her you would call her back."

"Mom!" he pounced. "Don't tell her things like that! Don't tell anybody things like that! I'll decide who I'll call back."

Oops. There was that look on his mother's face. "Did you and Lizzie have a fight, dear?" she asked compassionately.

Gordo sighed. Now he was in for "the treatment." The psychological treatment.

"Yes," Gordo said. "And don't even go there, Mom. I don't want to talk about it. I'll come to you when and if I want to talk about it. In the meantime, I'm going to my room to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to talk to anyone, okay? If anybody calls, tell them I'm 'indisposed' or whatever you want to say. Tell them I moved to Siberia. But do not tell them I will call them back. Got it?"

Mrs. Gordon might have scolded her son for being so snippy, but overwhelmed with the impression that he was in serious emotional pain, she chose instead to walk across the room and give him a big hug.

That was almost worse than a scolding, because it transformed his anger into the threat of tears, and Gordo certainly wasn't going to cry in front of his mother at this point. He clinched his eyes tightly and wondered if he could spit out an "I'm sorry" without his voice cracking.

"Aunt Suzie and Uncle Martin are on the road now with Adam, on their way down from Berkeley," Mrs. Gordon said, wisely relieving the emotional moment with talk of family business. "They should arrive by seven or eight. Suzie and I will be doing some baking tonight. I've put extra sheets and pillows in your room to make up the sofa for Adam. Or you can take the sofa if you want to be a good host. I'll let you boys work it out on your own."

"Thanks, Mom," Gordo managed today, then left the room without looking at her.

-

He went directly to his bedroom and fell onto his pillows, sighing deeply. This was going to be a lousy Thanksgiving. The only good part would be getting to hang out with Adam and hear about college life, which he couldn't wait to get to.

He heard the phone ring and wondered who it was. Several minutes passed and he could not get anywhere near sleep. He heard the phone ring again, and he felt more tense than before. Maybe it was Nicole. Maybe he should talk to her. Maybe he was being stupid. Duh…

Slowly sleep began to play with the idea of taking over, when his nerves jumped, startling him out of a half-dream. Gordo suddenly he realized he had been thinking and/or dreaming of Lizzie for some time. Was he ever going to be able to get Lizzie out of his mind? How long was this going to hurt? He remembered the trite words he had recited to her yesterday: I know it hurts now. But it won't always hurt. Every day it will get a little easier…

Ha! What a bunch of crap!

Gordo bolted from the bed and began scouring the room, looking for signs of Lizzie. He tore photographs, pulled her CD's from the shelf, threw the stuffed zebra she had given him as a birthday present in second grade into the deepest corner of his closet. At last he sat down and opened his wallet, removing the folded postcard he had been carrying around with him since July.

"Dance Camp rocks!" appeared in Lizzie's large, round script. "Miranda and I are learning how to 'exude feminine grace, charm and confidence!' You won't recognize us when we get back!"

Gordo smirked. I'll say… Nothing was the same after last summer.

He deliberately tore the postcard in half, then in half again, then in half again, then yet again, until there was nothing left but confetti.

Then he laid down on the bed, put his head deep in his pillow and cried until sleep finally won the battle.