Disclaimer: Disney owns the Lizzie McGuire show, The Lizzie McGuire movie, the characters, the plot and some of the dialogue. If I had owned any of it, I wouldn't be writing this; I would have made it into a movie.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do
So the next morning, Lizzie was to be observed lying in bed, tightly cocooned in several sheets, with only her head sticking out, looking like a tortoise timidly checking its surroundings after a sudden shower. Miss Ungermeyer was standing by her bed with a decidedly skeptical look on her face. Next to her stood the doctor who was, at present, attempting to gauge Lizzie's health by placing his hand on her forehead. Seemingly unconvinced, he produced a pencil torch from the recesses of his coat and proceeded to shine it alternately into Lizzie's eyes. However, other than blinding her, it did not serve any useful purpose either. Miss Ungermeyer, who had been watching the doctor's antics with growing contempt, now grabbed his arm and addressed him curtly.
"Is this girl sick or isn't she?" she inquired in that direct, no-nonsense manner, that characterizes principals all over the world.
The doctor hastily stowed his torch away and proceeded to give his evaluation. "She does not have a fever, and yet she is in bed" he began, "Ask yourself, why a beautiful young girl on her first visit to Rome – the city of adventure – wants to lie in bed all day?"
Both Miss Ungermeyer and Lizzie looked at him blankly, as if he had just asked them why the chicken had crossed the road. The doctor proceeded to explain himself. "Because she is ill," he finished, much as one would do when saying that the chicken had wished to get to the other side.
Lizzie rolled her eyes, while Miss Ungermeyer tried to get to the bottom of this mysterious affliction that had beset her charge. "You know, I heard that she fell down at her graduation and made a complete fool of herself. Do you think that could have something to do with this?" she asked, trying to remember what she'd read in her copy of the Medical Desk Reference.
"Oh yes," chuckled the doctor, "I saw that on CNN."
CNN! Oh great, now I'm officially dead, Lizzie thought, burrowing deeper within the sheets.
"Often the nervous system collapses after that kind of utter humiliation," explained the doctor, looking at Lizzie sympathetically.
"Do you… have any recommendations?" Miss Ungermeyer asked the doctor, who seemed to be lost in the memory of what he had seen on CNN.
"Oh yes," he said, quickly returning to the task at hand, and scribbling hard in his notebook, "This young woman should stay in bed. She should also eat two apricots."
This surprised both Lizzie and Miss Ungermeyer, who had never heard of apricots as a cure for any malady. "Is that for her digestion?" ventured Miss Ungermeyer, guessing wildly.
"No, they're in season. They're very delicious," the doctor replied, briskly handing the note to the incredulous Miss Ungermeyer and then turning to Lizzie he said, "Feel better, signorina McGuire." And with a dazzling smile, he picked up his black bag, a must for every doctor, and went on his way.
Miss Ungermeyer did not see him go. She was still staring at the piece of paper in her hand. The doctor had just reinforced her belief that she was surrounded by lunatics. Giving herself a little shake, she looked at Lizzie and said, "Rest up, McGuire. You wouldn't want to miss out on all the adventures of Rome." She still didn't seem completely convinced, but – though critical of the doctor's credentials – she had accepted his advice and had decided to leave Lizzie behind, at least for that day. She walked out of the room and shut the door behind her.
The moment Miss Ungermeyer left, Lizzie threw off her sheets revealing the fact that she was, in fact, completely dressed for a day out. Under cover of the sheets it had been swelteringly hot, and she was glad that the doctor hadn't taken longer, else she might have melted. Picking up her purse and a map of Rome, she quietly headed out and made her way towards the Trevi fountain.
Successfully navigating her way through the busy streets of Rome, Lizzie found herself back at the scene of the previous day's adventures. Lizzie fought her way through the crowd surrounding the fountain, searching for Paolo. She finally found him near the edge of the fountain. He was teaching some children the correct procedure for pitching coins into the fountain. So engrossed was he in instructing the children that he did not notice Lizzie approaching. Lizzie stood and watched him a while till he suddenly looked up and saw her watching him. Smiling bashfully, he explained, "I… I just… I asked them all to wish that you would come."
Aaaaaaawwwwwwwwww, went the voice in Lizzie head, feeling herself falling for this Italian singer.
Unfortunately, her rational side had to spoil things by speaking. "I don't have much time, you know my chaperone, Miss Ungermeyer…" she said quickly, perhaps attempting to assuage the feelings of guilt that were stabbing at her for abandoning Miranda and Gordo.
Paolo, however seemed unfazed by this, and he took her hand. "Come," he said, "I have something to show you." And he guided her through the swirling mass of humanity surrounding the fountain. Lizzie followed him to one of the side roads that led away from the Trevi fountain. Then, with the air of a conjurer producing a rabbit out of hat, he showed her a motor scooter, a Vespa, parked there.
"I just thought that you should see Rome the way Romans do," Paolo said, noting her stunned reaction.
Lizzie shut her gaping mouth, but she was still surprised. She had never driven on a motorized two-wheeler before and this promised to be quite an experience. But when she remembered that it was Paolo who would be driving, she was strong again. She gladly took the helmet he gave her, and putting it on, she got onto the scooter. And once again, her rational side took over momentarily. "Um… are you sure you can drive this thing?" she asked cautiously.
"This is Rome, no one knows how to drive," Paolo replied with a laugh. This fact, of course, is not only restricted to Rome, but can be applied to almost any city in the world. And it did nothing to soothe Lizzie fluttering nerves. Silently, she commended her soul to God, as the Vespa growled to life and carried them away into the teeming roads of Rome.
As commonly observed, the first time a person rides on a two-wheeler, is an experience that they will never forget. It produces a sense of euphoria, of freedom; of feeling that God's in his heaven and all's right with the world. And Lizzie was no exception. After five minutes on the Vespa, it would have required wild horses to drag her away from it.
Meanwhile, back in America, Matt had invited Melina over to his house. Once she had come over, he had, at least partially, regretted his decision. Melina had insisted on roasting him for throwing away the tape of Lizzie's graduation, instead of milking it completely. Attempting to regain some ground, Matt tried to look on the bright side.
"I don't know what's catastrophe is going to happen in Rome," he said, "But with Lizzie there, I'm sure something will."
"And what, precisely, are you going to do with that information?" Melina asked disdainfully, "Just give it away like you did with the graduation video?"
"Hey, she was pretty freaked out by that," Matt stated defensively.
"And you have what to show for it?" Melina asked, putting her finger on the flaw in his scheme.
"The pride of a job well done," Matt said carefully, knowing that this was the wrong thing to say but saying it anyway.
"Try buying a PS2 with the pride of a job well done" Melina said scornfully, "Matt, Matt, Matt…we've been over this before. Cash up front." The next moment, she had pasted on a sickeningly sweet smile as the door opened to reveal Mrs. McGuire.
"Melina, are you staying for dinner?" she asked.
"I'd love to, Mrs. McGuire," Melina replied, her voice dripping with that same cloying sweetness, "We'll need extra energy to work on our summer reading list."
"Well, then in that case, I'll make some brownies," Jo said, feeling that Melina could be a good influence on Matt after all.
Once she left, however, Melina turned on Matt, like a tigress on an erring cub. "I've said it before, you're weak, weak. Don't do anything without consulting me first," she growled in his face, and then turned away disappointed.
Matt who'd almost fallen out of his chair, could only gaze at her much as he had gazed at Miss Ungermeyer. "You are so cool," he observed, in an awe-struck voice.
The only thing that kept their jaunt around Rome from being a perfect outing was the fact that Lizzie could observe a black Mercedes following them wherever they went. At first, she had attempted to ignore it, but as they cruised through the streets of Rome, it became increasingly apparent that the car was, indeed, following them. And what was even more surprising was that it was being driven by the strong and silent Sergei. Perplexed by Sergei's "sticketh closer than a brother" attitude, Lizzie resolved to ask Paolo about it. She got the chance to do so, when their way was barred through one of the narrower streets by a truck full of produce. The truck was wedged in lengthways on the street in which, by rights, it shouldn't even have been allowed in. It did, however, allow for some conversation after the silently exhilarating trip around Rome.
"Paolo, can I ask you a question?" said Lizzie, already doing so.
"Si," Paolo replied courteously.
"I know our lives are a little different," Lizzie began, and then corrected herself, "Actually they're several universes different. But… doesn't your friend Sergei ever get tired of following us around everywhere?"
"Actually Sergei's my bodyguard," Paolo clarified, "So you see, between me and Sergei, you'll always be safe."
Lizzie felt winded; not only was Paolo a pop sensation, he even had a bodyguard. Wow, how famous do you have to be before you need a bodyguard, Lizzie wondered. She couldn't, of course, ask such a question, but it was one that she pondered on quite a bit. Turning around, she saw Sergei regarding them impassively so she waved brightly at him, but he still continued his impression of having been stuffed by some good taxidermist. And in that moment, she happened to look up and her face became a mask of horror.
A few moments earlier, the tour bus, containing several students who had had enough culture to last them several lifetimes, was winding its way towards the next monument. Miranda was one of the few students who did not have the look, of being about to sink into a stupor, that was common to the rest of the group. She was looking, half-amused and half-perplexed, at Gordo. Gordo, fearing that he was about to be drawn into a conversation he didn't want, had buried his nose in his info packet, thereby studiously avoiding Miranda's gaze. Miranda let him be for a while, but her curiosity got the better of her eventually.
"You can't hide behind there forever, you know," she said, nonchalantly looking out of the window.
"Who's hiding?" Gordo asked without looking up.
"Hey look, there's Lizzie," Miranda exclaimed suddenly, pointing out of the window.
"Where, where?" Gordo demanded, all agog, info packet forgotten, as his eyes scanned the Roman streets around for Lizzie. It was only when he caught the wide grin on Miranda's face that he realized that he'd been had. Miranda was quick enough this time to head him off before he disappeared behind his info packet again, by removing it from his hands.
"Hey! I'm not finished with that," Gordo protested weakly, knowing full well that it was not going to get him anywhere.
"Why did you do it?" Miranda asked him, pretending not to have heard his protestations.
"Do what?" Gordo asked evasively, wishing fervently that they'd reach the next monument soon so that he could avoid this line of questioning.
"Tell Lizzie to go out with that Paolo guy," Miranda replied, her eyes boring uncomfortably into the side of Gordo's head.
Gordo sighed; this was something he didn't want to answer, since it was something that he had been kicking himself for ever since he'd made the suggestion. On the other hand, he had no intention of letting Miranda know that he was, indeed, very jealous. In this regard, he exhibited the characteristics of men around the world who pride themselves on their iron inscrutability, but whose love lives are an open book, since they wear their hearts on their sleeves.
"Well, she wanted to; and… I thought that she deserved to have some adventure," Gordo answered after a pause.
"And, what about you?" Miranda asked in her direct way.
"What about me?" Gordo asked in turn, now completely mystified.
"You like Lizzie, don't you?" Miranda asked, but this time her voice was gentle rather than accusatory. Gordo, for his part, gave a convulsive leap, and felt as if his heart had shot up his throat and crashed against his teeth. He gulped hard trying to return it to its rightful place, while his mind worked feverishly on what would be the best way to rebut this statement.
"Never mind, don't answer that," Miranda continued with a smirk, "What I don't understand is, why you just stand back and let her go out with other guys? You even seem to encourage… what's the matter?" The abrupt change in topic was brought on due to a look of complete astonishment followed by horror, which had fixed itself on Gordo's face. Gordo didn't answer, he just pointed straight ahead. Miranda followed his gaze, and then her eyebrows shot up, and she put a hand to her mouth.
The tour bus had got stuck in a narrow alleyway behind a black Mercedes, which in turn was behind a motor scooter, which had Lizzie astride it. She was in plain view of Miss Ungermeyer, who was seated at the front of the bus. Any moment now, Miss Ungermeyer might recognize the blonde as one of her students who was supposed to be resting in bed, instead of riding around Rome in scooters.
"What do we do?" Miranda asked breathlessly, obviously at a loss for constructive ideas.
"I'll see what I can do," Gordo said, getting up and making his way to the front of the bus. Miranda watched him go with surprise, and not a little apprehension.
"Excuse me, Miss Ungermeyer; didn't we just pass the Casale San Antro?" Gordo asked when he was right next to the Ungermeyer, and stealing a glance to see if Lizzie and Paolo were gone yet.
"Yup. What about it?" Miss Ungermeyer answered disinterestedly.
"Well, I notice that it's not on the itinerary," Gordo said, stalling as much as he could, while Miranda prayed that Lizzie would hurry up and get out of there.
"That is correct," Miss Ungermeyer replied, her manner clearly stating that it wasn't causing her to lose any sleep.
"Shouldn't it be?" Gordo persisted, "I mean, it was a papal residence and it does contain frescoes from artists influenced by the school of Raphael."
This time Miss Ungermeyer did turn and doing so she studied Gordo's face carefully. "What are you up to, Gordon?" she asked, feeling suspicious of this sudden thirst for knowledge.
"N-nothing," Gordo stammered, "I just figured that while in Rome we should be exposed to as much Renaissance Raphaelite work, typified by Hellenic mythical imagery, as humanly possible " This statement caused the rest of the students to shoot looks of pure hatred towards Gordo, while Miss Ungermeyer looked, if possible, even more suspicious. Luckily, at that moment, the truck, which was causing all this unpleasantness, moved enough to let the scooter through. Paolo took the opportunity and gunned the engine, roaring away and putting as much distance between them and the tour bus, as possible. Lizzie, Gordo and Miranda let out simultaneous sighs of relief.
"Aaahh Gordon, you are on 'The List'," Miss Ungermeyer stated finally, "And 'The List' is not a place you want to be." Disappointed, Gordo returned to his seat as Miss Ungermeyer, suddenly waking up to the fact that they had been stuck for quite a while, got off to speed things along. Miranda hadn't failed to notice Gordo's dejection. Oh Lizzie, how can you be so blind, she wondered, as the bus moved on to their next destination.
Unbeknownst to them both, another person had been privy to the aforementioned slab of conversation. Larry Tudgeman, like Gordo, was one of the few who had managed to retain a measure of interest in their tour. And since he had been seated right behind Gordo and Miranda, he had heard every word that had been uttered. He had also seen Lizzie on the scooter, a fact that had surprised him to no small extent. Quietly, he resolved to find out more about this rather interesting turn of events.
After the rather close shave with the tour bus, Paolo wisely decided that it might be better to cease the wandering on the scooter and so he parked and led Lizzie to a quaint roadside café nearby. As the searched for a table, he filled her in on the history of the area, which was as enthralling as it was gruesome. However, Lizzie's interest in artists, like Caravaggio, wasn't as deep as Gordo's, and therefore waiting till Paolo ceased his commentary, she asked him about something that had vexed her the whole morning. "Paolo, can I ask you something?" she said slowly.
"Si," Paolo replied.
"Do you still love her?" Lizzie asked, hoping that it did not offend.
"Who, Isabella?" Paolo asked, seeming slightly taken aback.
"Si," Lizzie answered, drawing on her two-word Italian vocabulary.
"Of course I still love her," Paolo answered lightly, causing Lizzie's face to fall. "But like a sister," he continued, and Lizzie perked up immediately, like a drooping flower after the rain.
"So… why did you break up?" she asked, more to reassure herself that they were indeed broken up, than with any other intent.
"It is…" Paolo began, searching for the right words to explain himself, "complicated." So saying, he turned away, ostensibly, to avoid talking about a sore subject.
"What?" Lizzie pressed, feeling that she needed to know more about this.
"I mean, yes, we were voted the 'Best Pop Duo of the Year' again," Paolo continued with a sigh, "But I wanted to do more serious music. And when I told this to Isabella, she said flat out 'No'. So I was forced to tell her that that this is it, this will be our last gig together," he finished sounding aggrieved by the whole sordid affair.
"What happened? Did she freak out?" Lizzie asked, looking stunned by the callousness of this woman who looked so much like her.
"She totally freaked out," Paolo answered, as they finally found themselves a table, "And yes, I feel awful about that. But, what about me? I need to grow as an artist, you know."
"Yeah, absolutely," Lizzie affirmed.
"So the other day when I saw you, I just… I don't know, I had this crazy… I just… Oh, I don't know," Paolo stuttered, unable to find the right words.
"What?" Lizzie asked, thoroughly intrigued by his mysterious manner.
"I had this crazy idea that maybe you could help me," Paolo finished, seemingly ashamed for having even brought up the subject, as he seated himself.
Help you? Of course, I'd do anything to help you, the voice in Lizzie's head wanted to shout.
"Come on, how crazy could it be? Just tell me," Lizzie pleaded, sitting down as well.
"No, no I can't. It's too… it's too…," Paolo said, throwing up his hands in front of him.
Lizzie coaxed him a little more, since she wanted to help him so as to get in good with him.
"Oh all right," Paolo said reluctantly, as if Lizzie had forced it out of him, "Isabella and I are supposed to present an award together at the International Music Video Awards."
"Cool," Lizzie burst out, but she quickly controlled her enthusiasm, "I mean, cool for regular people like me, but for you, I guess, it must be like… work."
"Oh no," Paolo hastened to assure her, "It is cool for me too, because I get free gift passes and stuff. But now because Isabella is so mad at me she is refusing to appear. The record company is threatening to sue her if she doesn't show up."
"And, what about you?" asked Lizzie, looking completely aghast.
"For me, it is no problem," Paolo replied confidently, "I write the music." He looked away into the middle distance before continuing, "I don't know where it comes from. It just comes from… me. La la la la, see. So I can go solo."
Then he leaned forward and gestured for Lizzie to do the same. When she had done so, he whispered, "But Isabella, she needs the help to sing."
"You mean Isabella lip-synchs?" Lizzie asked, absolutely shocked, and completely forgetting to lower her voice. Paolo shushed her desperately, as a few people at neighbouring tables looked up with interest.
"You must promise me that you will speak of this to no one," he whispered to her, "Imagine what would happen to Isabella's career."
"Ohhh, that's so sweet, you still care about her," Lizzie said, feeling that this was even more proof of the purity of his soul. "You're definitely broken up, right?" she asked, just to make sure it was so.
"Si," Paolo replied, and Lizzie could breathe easily again.
"So when I saw you yesterday," Paolo said, returning once more to the crux, "And I saw how all those people thought you were Isabella, I got this crazy idea that perhaps you could pretend to be Isabella for one night, and present the award with me on stage."
"Present an award?" Lizzie gasped, feeling a sense of déjà vu, "On stage? In front of an audience?"
"No, they decided to hold the IMVAs in an empty stadium this year," Paolo answered dryly.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Look, I can understand your being nervous before going on stage. I feel nervous too. It is normal," Paolo consoled her.
"But… I'm really not good in front of crowds. I could never do that," Lizzie stuttered, the memories of past horrors making her quake in her boots.
"Of course you can do it. You are magnifico," Paolo reassured her.
Wow, he thinks I'm magnifico. I don't know Italian, but I know what that means, the voice in her head perked up. Unfortunately, the outer Lizzie still had her doubts.
"I don't know, Paolo," she said regretfully, "I don't think I can do it."
"It's alright," Paolo said sadly, "I could never ask you to do this crazy thing." And with the same hang-dog look, he turned his gaze out across the square. Lizzie couldn't help but feel guilty looking at his crestfallen expression. Taking a deep breath, she came to a decision.
"No, you know what. You don't have to ask," Lizzie said, and then she took another deep breath to calm herself, "If this will help you and Isabella then… I'll do it."
"You will!" Paolo exclaimed, his face lighting up, "Gracia. Oh, you will be wonderful."
"Prego," Lizzie replied grinning, using the second word in her two-word Italian vocabulary.
Later that day, Lizzie managed to sneak back to the hotel before the rest of the students arrived and she pretended to be asleep when Kate came in. Kate shot her one disdainful look and walked out of the room with a vague intention of looking to see if there were any guys to look at in the dining area. Moments after Kate left, Miranda snuck into the room and shook Lizzie forcefully.
"Are you crazy?" she remonstrated when Lizzie opened her eyes, "You nearly got caught today. Luckily, Gordo managed to distract Ungermeyer till you guys escaped."
"I know, I'm sorry," Lizzie replied, genuinely apologetic for the incident, "But I had such a wonderful day today."
This caused Miranda to forget all about the earlier mishap. "So what was it like?" she asked eagerly.
"Let's go over to Gordo's room. I'll fill you guys in together," Lizzie replied, and then she paused, "But what about Ungermeyer? What if she's prowling around? If she sees me out of bed, then I'm done for."
Miranda waved a casual hand in the air. "No worries there," she said, "Ungermeyer's snoring her head off in her room. You could probably hear it all the way back in Hillridge."
Quietly, the two girls crept out and heading over to Gordo's room, Lizzie knocked and called out to him. Gordo opened to door and was immediately mobbed by the two girls rushing in and slamming the door shut.
"Since when did I turn into Aaron Carter?" Gordo asked as he staggered back into his room. Seeing the looks of surprise on their faces, Gordo explained himself. "Why else would the two of you be falling all over me?" he said grinning.
"Dream on, Gordo," Miranda answered, "In the meantime, Miss McGuire here has a story to tell."
Lizzie told them both everything, leaving out no detail however insignificant. Though Gordo and Miranda looked like they wanted to interrupt at several points during the narrative, they politely held back till Lizzie had finished. However, the looks on their faces betrayed exactly what they were thinking. By the time Lizzie was done, Miranda's mouth was hanging open and Gordo had slumped down on to his bed, looking stunned.
"So you, Lizzie McGuire, are actually presenting an award at the IMVAs with Paolo?" Gordo asked finally, when he managed to find his voice.
"The same 'you' that almost smothered our entire class during graduation?" Miranda added, having hitched up her jaw again.
Lizzie hastened to explain the set-up. "No, me Isabella with Paolo," she said, not really clarifying anything at all, "It's a long story. But I'm doing it because the real Isabella won't."
"You're actually going to get up on stage; in front of all these people?" Gordo asked, looking as if this was beyond human comprehension.
"Well, that's the great thing about it, Gordo, it's not going to be me," Lizzie clarified, "It's Paolo's idea to help Isabella because he still loves her."
"But not romantically; like a sister," she continued, and then a dreamy look came into her face, "He is so amazing. And he's only seventeen. I mean, for being so famous and so used to getting whatever you want, he's just so kind." Lizzie did not notice Gordo squirming during this lovely character sketch.
"For real? That's a lot to say about someone just knowing them a day," Gordo said pointedly. Unfortunately, Lizzie was too high up on cloud nine to notice such pointed remarks. Miranda, on the other hand, did notice, and began to feel rather uncomfortable knowing that this state of affairs was likely to end with one of them, or possibly both, getting hurt. But for the life of her, she couldn't think of how she was going to do anything to help.
"I know that," Lizzie replied quickly, "But I feel like I've known him my whole life, you know. Anyway, I just wanted to come by and thank you. I had the most magical day of my life and it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you."
Gordo shrugged shyly, and then he got a bit of a shock when Lizzie planted a kiss on his forehead. She then skipped back to the door, but suddenly she turned and gave him another big smile and said, "You're such a good friend." And with those words, she returned to her room, not knowing that those precise words had just smashed Gordo's heart into a million tiny fragments.
"That good, huh?" he muttered sadly, when she was gone.
"Gordo…" Miranda began sympathetically, but Gordo cut her off with a quick "I don't want to talk about it." Miranda sighed but decided to humour him, and so she too left.
If Gordo had hoped that now the room was girl-free, he could tend to his wounds in peace, he was to be denied that as well. As the main door closed behind Miranda, Ethan Craft stepped out of the bathroom, leant on the doorframe and looked down at Gordo. "The sting," he said knowingly.
"What sting?" Gordo asked, wondering why, if Ethan wanted to talk to him, he couldn't do it in English.
"Want a little mano-a-mano?" Ethan asked, making it sound like it was just the thing Gordo needed.
"See this is why you and I aren't friends," Gordo said, as he threw his books back into his bag, "Because I never have any idea of what you're talking about."
Ethan carried on, completely unmoved by Gordo's sarcasm. "See, some dudes get the approach, others the sting. This Italian dude, he's big-time approach," he said, drawing on his own minimal fount of knowledge.
"I can actually feel my brains turning into goo," Gordo said, completely lost by this inane rambling.
"Embrace the sting, dude," Ethan emphasised, "That's what you're vibing here from Lizzie." And though Gordo still had almost no idea of what Ethan was talking about, that name was enough to give him the gist of the conversation.
"Wait, wait, so you think I'm actually jealous of Paolo," Gordo asked, throwing in a carefree laugh for good measure.
"Word," said Ethan, pleased with Gordo's quick grasp of the situation.
"No, see, that would mean that I like Lizzie as more than a friend," Gordo explained, hoping that Ethan would think that he, Gordo, didn't.
Unfortunately for Gordo, either due to a sudden burst of intelligence or just the fact that he was too dumb to understand innuendo, Ethan took Gordo's statement at face value. "See, what do you mean, we have trouble communicating, bro," Ethan asked, glad that he and Gordo saw eye-to-eye on the matter.
"You're wrong, man," Gordo snapped, and took refuge in the relative safety of the bathroom. In the privacy of the bathroom, Gordo slowly banged his head against the wall. It, however, didn't seem to knock any sense into his head, because when he emerged after a couple of hours, he was still as depressed as he had been when he had gone in.
That night, while lying in bed, Gordo thought about all the times he could have told Lizzie how he felt only he hadn't. And now, he had reached a situation where he could lose her forever. Gordo set a record of sorts that night, for being the first person to kick himself to sleep.
A/N: I have been unforgivably long over this chapter thanks to mounds of work. Once again, I have to thank all of those who have read and reviewed. Thanks for all the encouragement which helps me keep writing.
