Author's Notes: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. I am so glad that people are enjoying this.
CHAPTER 3: Silently Delicate
"Lizzie, calm down there," my father said. "You have enough time."
I was devouring my scrambled eggs at the kitchen table. It was seven o'clock in the morning, which was rather early for me to be downstairs eating my breakfast. At that hour, I was usually in the bathroom, trying desperately to perfect my make-up job.
But not on that day.
I was in a hurry to get to school. For the past few days, I had found myself rushing out the front door at lightning speed, starry eyed with butterflies in my stomach. School was actually beginning to excite me, believe it or not. I went from dreading it like a seven year old dreads a cavity check at the dentist's office to actually looking forward to it. I would go home every single day and feel sorry that it was over, and spend all night in bed hoping that, if I closed my eyes, morning would come in a flash. At the time, I realized that it was an abrupt change, especially for a girl like me who loathed the florescent lit building full of utter boredom and adolescent despair. But my new friendship with Veronica made my days more bearable and enjoyable.
"You are going to get so fat if you keep on eating like that."
I looked up from the quickly diminishing white and yellow pile of eggs on my plate and shot Matt an icy cold glare.
"Shut up, Matt. I'm not even fat, anyway."
"No, but if you keep eating like a pig, you're going to balloon up to the size of the Good Year blimp."
He blew air into his cheeks and held it there and patted his stomach.
Sometimes I hated my little brother. Naturally he was a nuisance, as younger siblings are supposed to be. But he could really get carried away, shooting jabs at me that tore into my psyche like a bullet into flesh. We used to quarrel like all brothers and sisters do, but since he began high school, he just grew meaner and angrier and would lash out at me for absolutely no reason, shouting horrible things at me. And, although I acted like his words didn't matter, they could actually be quite painful to me.
"Lizzie, did you take the trash out?"
I looked at my mother.
"Yeah mom, did it last night, just like you asked."
My mother beamed and put her arm around my father. They were smiling at me.
"You are such a good daughter," dad said.
Mom added, "You do everything that we ask. You never cause any trouble. We're so lucky."
I grinned.
It feels so good to have people take pride in me.
"Hey! What about me?" Matt asked.
My parents looked at him with skepticism.
"Uh," mom let out, unsure of what to say.
Dad jumped in to aid her.
"Well, you're… you're… really good at… um. Okay, remember when I asked you to clean the windows last week?"
Matt nodded.
"You did a great job at that."
Matt frowned.
Dad looked at his watch and said he had to run. He pecked my mother on the cheek and headed for the door, stopping to say goodbye to my brother and I. When my mother heard the door shut, she turned to the sink and began doing dishes.
Matt leaned towards me, his eyes full of anger.
"Oh, perfect little Lizzie, we're just so proud of her," he said in a low mocking whisper.
"You know Matt? You really are a jerk."
"And you're nothing but a stupid bitch. You can keep on getting the excellent grades and you can keep on making mommy and daddy proud, but I know who you really are. You're worthless. You're nothing."
I froze. I had nothing to say. His hateful words crawled into my mind, curling themselves up and nesting there permanently. I felt defeated. I felt naked. I felt bruised and broken.
Why does he hate me so much? Is he right? Am I really that bad?
I grabbed my purse and got up from the table, making my way towards the door and hanging my head low like a shamed and weakened animal.
-NEXT-
"Oh, you did not."
"Yes I did! I'm not lying."
"Come on Veronica, I don't believe you."
"I'm not lying, Lizzie. I really did meet Anthony Hopkins."
Veronica and I were standing at my locker, engaging in idle and amusing chit-chat.
"Where did you meet him?"
"I went to the premiere of 'Hannibal' in New York City when I was thirteen."
"Really? What was that like?"
"Seeing all of the stars was great and shaking hands with Anthony Hopkins was definitely a memorable experience, but the movie was lousy. 'Silence of the Lambs' was much better."
"I wouldn't know. I never saw either one."
"You're joking."
"Nope. Well, I saw some of 'Silence of the Lambs', but I had to stop watching it. It freaked me out! I can't watch scary movies alone. I'm such a wimp."
"You're not a wimp," Veronica said, touching my shoulder. "I can watch them with you. I'll let you squeeze my hand during scary parts. I can be, like, your protector!"
She smiled at me and kept her hand on my shoulder, lightly rubbing it. And it didn't bother me at all. I smiled back and we locked eyes for a moment when I heard my name being called out.
"Hey Lizzie," Gordo waved.
"What's going on?" Miranda asked.
Veronica quickly took her hand off of my shoulder, clasped her arms behind her back, and looked at the floor.
"Uh… not much. Veronica and I were just talking."
Gordo stared at me for a moment and let out a simple, "Mmhmm."
Why does this feel like such an awkward moment?
Miranda began talking.
"So, Lizzie, it's Friday. Got any plans?"
"No, not at the moment."
"Well, Gordo and I were planning on going over to the mall later. They are having this thing at the video game store. They're setting up all of these game systems and letting people choose games and play them for a while. It is going to be so cool. You want to come?"
"Let me guess, this was Gordo's idea."
Gordo raised his hands defensively.
"Hey now, wait just a minute. Miranda likes video games, too."
Miranda nodded.
"Gordo got me into them. It's all his fault!"
Video games. Wow, sounds so goddamn boring. Why are these people so boring? What kind of friends do I have? And how do I turn them down? I already have some kind of an idea of what my plans for tonight are. Quick Lizzie, think of a lie.
"I can't. I have this thing, with the family. You know how it goes."
Miranda and Gordo exchanged unconvinced looks.
"Look guys, I'm sorry. I just can't."
A wave of silence hit us. There was thick tension floating in the air.
And then I noticed Gordo looking at Veronica, who was still staring at the ground. His eyes were moving over her. He looked as though he was trying to figure something out about her, to pull out all of her thoughts and feelings and examine them under a microscope.
That was when the bell ring.
Thankfully.
"See you," Miranda said as she walked off.
Gordo followed her, but not before turning around to give one last questioning glance to Veronica and I.
Veronica.
I looked at her. Her head was up now and she was looking back at me.
Ask her, Lizzie. Go ahead. Just ask her.
"Veronica," I said, my voice quivering.
Why am I acting like this? It is just a simple question. Why am I so nervous about it?
"Yes?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"Do you want to – maybe you could – do you think might want to –"
"What?" she asked, letting out a small laugh.
"Do you want to hang out tonight? You could come to my house, spend the night."
I never saw anyone's face light up like hers did in that moment.
"But I thought you had plans with your family?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I got the days mixed up. I thought I was doing the family thing tonight, but actually it's next week."
She raised her brow, an incredulous expression on her face.
I knew that she was well aware that I had lied, but I didn't care. I had been planning on asking her over since the previous day.
"I would love to come over. I don't see why it would be a problem."
She grinned at me, and I was unable to contain my excitement. I'm sure it was visible on my face, stretching my mouth into a wide toothy smile.
I was thrilled at the idea of her coming to my house. Thrilled at the idea of her spending the night with me. Thrilled at the idea of getting to know her, right down to her very core.
What the HELL am I thinking! She's just a friend coming over to spend the night, my god.
She saw my obvious happiness, like it was some kind of mystical orb in the pit of my being that was releasing a stream of light throughout my entire body and making my face glow. She began to giggle.
I love it when she giggles. It is almost silent. I have to listen very closely to hear it. It is… delicate, like her.
-NEXT-
"So, what should I bring to our little sleepover?"
"Well, you know, the usual. Some pajamas, a change of clothes, a toothbrush, uh…"
"What about a blanket and a pillow? Don't I need to bring those?"
"Oh, no, you don't need to. I was thinking that we could just share my bed. I mean, it can fit two people, and I don't want you to have to sleep on the floor or anything."
She gave me that shy little smirk and simply nodded.
We were in English class and were supposed to be reading our novels, but whispering anxiously about our upcoming plans was much more important to the both of us. During that day, each time that we saw each other, we took the opportunity to discuss what we would be doing. At lunch, we found a nice little table and sat there, sharing words and smiles about these plans. I noticed Miranda shooting death glares my way from across the cafeteria, while Gordo would look at Veronica and me with unanswered questions on his face. And when I scribbled my telephone number and address on a piece of paper and handed it to Veronica, I saw them give each other a look out of the corner of my eye. I knew that they would be pissed about me neglecting them to sit and chat with Veronica, but strangely enough, I didn't care.
I hope this day ends soon so that I can go home and prepare everything for Veronica.
"So, Lizzie, what time do you want me to come over?"
"How about… six-ish?"
She giggled.
That giggle. Sometimes I think that I am the only person in this world who was meant to hear that giggle.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, it's just that you added an 'ish'. I think that's so cute."
Suddenly, her face was colored red and she looked down at her hands.
"I-I didn't mean… cute," she stammered.
I kept my eyes on the light red head that was staring downwards.
She thinks what I said was cute?
The thought of her finding something that I said cute made me feel, well, good. No, not good. Incredible.
"Miss McGuire? Miss Royersbea? Are you two talking when you are supposed to be reading?"
I looked at Mr. Treskadar, but Veronica kept her head down.
"No, Mr. Treskadar."
"Good, I hope not. You know Miss Royersbea, for someone who doesn't like to talk much, you sure do seem to love running at the mouth to Miss McGuire."
I saw Veronica's face redden even more. and I was overcome with the forceful urge to protect her.
That fucking prick. Who does he think he is?
"There's no need to say that to her, Mr. Treskadar, okay? We'll stop talking, but don't get mean with her."
"Miss McGuire, I wasn't getting mean with anyone. Just read your book and keep your mouth shut."
I glanced at Veronica, who brought her gaze up to mine and smirked at me in appreciation.
Why does it feel so good to protect her?
Then I remembered what she had said to me earlier about being my protector during scary movies and I smiled to myself.
Could she be my protector? Could I be hers?
-NEXT-
"Mom, I'm having a friend over tonight. Is that okay?"
My mother and I were standing in the kitchen. She was at the stove, stirring chowder with a ladle in a big shiny silver pot. Steam was rising from it, filling the kitchen which was boiling with heat. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and dripped down her face.
She works so hard. She works so hard to take care of us, even if it means slaving over a hot stove. Why is she so dedicated to her family?
"Of course, sweetie," she said cheerfully, despite looking like a haggard and thirsty woman who had just traveled through a hot sandy desert, desperately in search of water.
"Okay, thanks mom. I knew you wouldn't mind."
"I never mind. You know that Miranda and Gordo are welcome here anytime, and they always come over anyway! So which one of them will be visiting tonight?"
"Actually, neither. It's not Miranda or Gordo. It's this new girl at school. Her name is Veronica."
Mom looked up from the scalding pot with a surprised and curious expression on her face.
"You have a new friend? Why haven't you told me about her?"
"What, am I supposed to advertise every time I get a new friend?"
"No! No, of course not, Lizzie. I'd just like to know what's going on in your life."
"I know, I'm sorry. She's great though, you'll really like her."
"Oh yeah? What's she like?"
"Well, she's really quiet. And we just get along well."
Mom nodded and went back to stirring.
-NEXT-
I spent an hour frantically tidying up my room. It wasn't even really a mess to begin with, but I wanted everything to be perfect for Veronica.
Why do I want everything to be perfect for her?
It was something new for me. I had been so careless when it came to Miranda and Gordo. I would invite them into my room, my bed unmade, a mountain of unwashed clothing on my floor, a desk littered with magazines.
But when it came to Veronica, I cared. I cared about her perception of me. I cared about her feelings towards me. I wanted to impress her. I had the no idea why.
Because she's special.
After cleaning up my bedroom, I walked to my closet and stared at my array of shirts and pants and shorts and skirts. My taste in clothing was eclectic. I wore trendy outfits, I wore comfortable outfits, and I wore casual outfits. Variety was always the key with me. I felt as though it was essential in life.
What would Veronica like to see me in? Does she like variety? Why do I even CARE?
I grabbed at tight shirts, silky shirts, and frilly shirts – all the while furrowing my brow and tightly pursing my lips in concentration. It seemed much more difficult to find the rightoutfit than it was to take an exam at school, or to learn mathematical nonsense. I had so many choices, but I wanted to make the right one. I wanted to look good. I wanted to look good for Veronica.
Ultimately, I decided on a black button down blouse and a pair of khaki pants. After dressing myself, I pulled out my make-up bag and headed to my vanity, where I spent the next half-hour carefully applying eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, foundation, and powder. I topped it all off with some strawberry flavored lip gloss.
Am I wearing too much make-up?
The last item to take care of was my hair. After spending a good twenty minutes trying to figure out what style was best, I finally settled with wearing it down.
As I turned to walk out, feeling completely ready, I realized that I forgot one thing and ran back to my vanity. Opening the top drawer, I fished through hairbrushes and hair clips and old tubes of lipstick until I discovered what I was looking for. I pulled out the bottle of L'Air Du Temps and stared at it for a moment. At that point in time, it was the most exquisite and expensive perfume that I had ever owned. My mother purchased it for my sixteenth birthday at a price of forty-seven dollars, and I had only worn it once to my Aunt's wedding. It seemed too elegant of a perfume to wear to school or to the movies. The aroma of gardenias and jasmine were not meant to be wasted on such insignificant events. It was meant for unforgettable evenings and romantic encounters that one tucks away securely inside of the heart, using the warm memories to wrap themselves in on cold and lonely nights.
I had not experienced any of those glorious events and felt that the perfume was destined to lie untouched in that dark drawer for the rest of my days.
The perfume and I had a lot in common.
But there I was, taking it out and getting ready to use it. I was going to use this yellowish-brown floral scented liquid in a 3.3 oz glass bottle that was being reserved for special occasions.
And seeing Veronica? Well, that was definitely a special occasion.
I pulled the cap off and lightly spritzed the perfume over my blouse, on both of my wrists, and in the nape of my neck.
-NEXT-
I kept glancing at the clock every five minutes, quietly begging time to move faster.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
The clock was taunting me, slowly torturing me as I sat in the living room. My left leg was shaking nervously and I began to fidget with the black leather of my wristwatch. I felt the nerves dancing under my skin, and tiny little flutters filled my stomach.
"Oh, look who it is."
Matt came in and stood in front of me.
"What do you want, Matt?"
"It's my house, you idiot. I can walk into the living room ifI want."
"No, it's not that. It's just that I'm expecting company any minute now."
"Who? Your dorky friend Gordo? Or 'Miss Pregnancy Scare' Miranda?"
I shook my head and sighed. Matt had known about one of Miranda's three pregnancy scares. He found out when she came over to my house, clutching a home pregnancy test with ghost-white knuckles. She took the test in the bathroom and came into my room, sitting on my bed in tears while she waited the required fifteen minutes to find out the results. As I tried my best to console her, taking on the role of the dependable best friend as usual, Matt went to use the bathroom and saw the urine covered stick sitting on the sink. He stormed into my bedroom and screamed at me, called me a slut, a filthy whore, and told me that he refused to live in a house with my 'spawn'. After shouting at him that it was Miranda's, he stopped his tirade and began to chuckle evilly. He teased Miranda, turned her crisis into a joke, which only made her cry harder. As I yelled at him to shut up, Miranda didn't see what I did.
She didn't see me laughing behind her shoulder.
I didn't care about her or her situation, I just pretended to. Secretly, I agreed with Matt and thought that Miranda deserved his cruel treatment, but I never let anyone know that.
"So who is it? Which one of them is coming over, Lizzie?"
"Why do you care so much?"
"Because I just do."
"It's not Gordo or Miranda."
"Oh, why not? Is Miranda too busy fucking some guy to spend time with your loser ass?"
I felt the tears fighting to rush from my eyes. He knew that was an emotional Achilles Heel for me. He knew that what Miranda had done to me – ignoring our friendship to be with her boyfriend – had cut me deeply. And he just loved to rip open old wounds.
"Matt," I said, forcing back the tears threatening to spill, "Just leave. Please."
"Aw, did I hurt Lizzie? Did I hurt precious little Lizzie?"
"Matt, leave me alone."
He rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together.
"Well, I'll just be going now. Can't wait to see the person you've invited over. I kind of feel sorry for whoever it is because they probably don't know how pathetic you are."
And, with that, he left the room, and I felt so small and worthless that I hoped the floor would open up and suck me far down into the ground, so far down that I wouldn't exist anymore.
And then the doorbell rang.
Veronica.
Instantly, I went from not wanting to feel anything at all to feeling like I was floating in the clouds. I jumped up and ran to the door. Before opening it, I sucked in as much oxygen as I could and let it out. Then, I turned the doorknob and pulled the door open.
And there she was, standing in the warm California evening air, the sun setting to the left and hitting the side of her body. Auburn strands fell down all around her face like water flowing down over rocks at the end of a river. Brown eyes were looking intently into mine. Her eyelids had a tiny bit of baby blue shadow on them, her cheeks dabbed with just a hint of red blush, and her luscious lips were lightly covered in a shiny gloss. She wore a satin loose fitting baby blue blouse and a pair of light blue jeans with her always present black leather boots. I also noted that around her waist was a clear belt with silver rimmed notches.
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
My god, she looks… amazing.
"Hey, Lizzie."
I managed a hello, which came out sounding more like a gasp.
She smirked shyly. She always smirked shyly.
Why does that smirk always stay in my mind?
I motioned for her to come in and she nodded, a tan backpack slung over her right shoulder.
"Did you find my house okay?"
"Yeah, after reading your handwriting, like, a thousand times."
"Oh my god, Veronica! I am so sorry. When I write fast, it's not really legible, and-"
"Lizzie!" she said, sticking her hand out, "I am just joking. I found the place fine, I am really good with directions. And I love your handwriting. It's very easy for me to read."
I grinned.
She grinned.
And we both stood there, grinning at each other.
-NEXT-
"So, Veronica, where are you originally from?
Oh great, mom's already grilling her.
"I'm from Maryland, actually."
"Really? Maryland? Wow, that's on the other side of the country! What brought you here to California?"
We were sitting around the dinner table, bowls of my mother's delicious West Coast Chowder sitting in front of us. My mother was interested in knowing more about Veronica. My father was greedily delivering spoonfuls of chowder to his mouth. Matt was looking bored.
And me? Well, I was watching Veronica as she tried to answer my mother's questions. She answered them so quietly, usually with her eyes looking downward. I was dreading this. I was dreading my mother pestering her with a game of Twenty Questions because I was well aware of Veronica's shy nature, and she seemed intimidated by every single person who crossed her path.
Except for me. Veronica wasn't really intimidated by me. She seemed to trust me, to see me on equal ground. It felt good that she was able to speak to me without feeling intimidated by me.
"My mother wanted to move out here to California," Veronica explained.
"Oh? And why is that? Did she think she would see all of the movie stars? Because we don't have any here. Well, except for this skunk that has been running around in the neighborhood. We see him everywhere at night, wearing a pair of sunglasses and saying. 'I am ready for my close-up!"
Could she possibly be lamer?
Veronica forced a small laugh. I knew she was just trying to be polite about my mother's unfunny comment.
"No, that's not why. She just thought it would be nice."
The way Veronica said that sounded odd, like she was hiding something.
"Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"I have an older sister named Natasha and an older brother named Clayton."
"Oh, and what do your parents do?"
I took a sip of my iced tea and rolled my eyes.
"My father works in construction and my mother is a secretary at small medical practice."
All of the sudden, the fact that I didn't know anything about Veronica's life before she transferred to my school hit me. Yet, I felt so close to her, like I had known her for years.
"I see. Well, what about-"
"Mom!"
My mother looked at me.
"Stop with the interrogation, please. Do you want to scare Veronica away?"
"Oh gosh, no, not at all. You'll have to forgive me, Veronica. Sometimes I go a little crazy with questions."
"It's okay, I understand."
Veronica looked at me wearing an expression of relief on her face. And when my mother dropped her napkin on the floor and bent down to pick it up, Veronica mouthed the words 'thank you' to me.
I quickly mouthed back, 'You're welcome.'