Disclaimer: I don't own Lizzie McGuire or anything that goes with it. I
make no profit from this.
Author's Note: I wanted to write a Lizzie fic, but I never imagined this is what I'd come up with. It's lame at times, but it's very true. The rating is PG for now, but I may have to change it in later chapters. Please review, but don't flame. Go flame my other stories, but not this one :)
Warnings: This story contains mainly PG material, but is rated PG-13 for some of the physically disturbing scenes involving eating disorders. There are some dark themes and language.
*1-26-03 Updated Author's Note: This is just a simple warning to readers that this fic is very Movie-Of-The-Week-ish, so be prepared for angst and cheese. This was my first Lizzie McGuire fic, and I really don't hold it up to the same caliber that I try to make my other works reach. But, you know. Read it for what you will.
"Lizzie, did you eat the whole bag already?" asked Mrs. McGuire as she entered her house, picking up a discarded bag of potato chips off the kitchen table. She had bought the chips only a day before.
Lizzie was curled up on the couch, eating M&M's. She looked back at the kitchen, hearing her mother speak. "Oh, sorry Mom," she replied. "I've just been so hungry the past few days. It's almost that time of the month... you know how I get."
Mrs. McGuire laughed softly. "It's okay, sweetie."
Lizzie picked up the remote and turned the television off; she could no longer focus on the tube. She reached into her bag of candy only to find it empty. *I'm still hungry.* she thought to herself, meandering around to the kitchen.
"Are you feeling okay, honey?" asked Mrs. McGuire, sweeping wisps of stray hairs from her daughter's face. "You don't seem yourself today. You're usually bouncing off the walls on the last day of school."
Lizzie flashed her mom a bright, million-dollar smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little PMS, that's all." She grabbed and apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and skipped upstairs to her bedroom. After securing the door behind her, she burst into tears and flung herself onto her bed. Thank god it was over. Thank god Junior High was over forever. She couldn't face any of them ever again.
She gripped her blankets even tighter, pressing her entire body into her matress, hoping it would just swallow her up. The phone rang. Lizzie knew it was Miranda.
*Let it ring* she moaned in her mind. *Just let it ring. Let it ring.*
"Lizzie! Phone for you!" her mother called from downstairs.
At last she lifted her tear-sodden face up from her covers and picked up the cordless phone. "I've got it, Mom!" she yelled back downstairs. Then, hushing to a weak whimper into the phone, "I don't want to talk about it,"
"I figured you wouldn't," said Miranda on the other line. "But you don't have to talk... You can just listen if you want." Lizzie didn't feel like listening, but she did anyway, for Miranda's sake. "He's a jerk. You're waaaay better off without him."
Lizzie spoke in a small, unconvincing voice. "Yeah. I know."
"And besides, you're, like, way too smart for him. Remember, he thought a nail file was a tool organizer? And he spends more time on his hair than you do!" Miranda began to chuckle, laying some bait, but Lizzie wouldn't bite.
"I just want to be alone for awhile. I need to think."
"Sure." Miranda had tried, and failed. Lizzie would just have to get through it on her own. "I'll call you later."
Lizzie hung up the phone as a steady stream of tears continued down her face. She picked up her apple, which was ripe and shimmery, and put it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took a fierce bite of it. She took another, using her teeth to dig her frustration into the crunchy, delicious fruit. *Crunch. Crunch.* She gnawed away at the apple, trying to forget her rejection and humiliation. *Crunch. Crunch.* Within minutes the apple was devoured.
She smothered herself in blankets once again, trying to forget what had happened. After the best two months of her fourteen-year-old world, Ethan Craft had broken up with her.
Author's Note: I wanted to write a Lizzie fic, but I never imagined this is what I'd come up with. It's lame at times, but it's very true. The rating is PG for now, but I may have to change it in later chapters. Please review, but don't flame. Go flame my other stories, but not this one :)
Warnings: This story contains mainly PG material, but is rated PG-13 for some of the physically disturbing scenes involving eating disorders. There are some dark themes and language.
*1-26-03 Updated Author's Note: This is just a simple warning to readers that this fic is very Movie-Of-The-Week-ish, so be prepared for angst and cheese. This was my first Lizzie McGuire fic, and I really don't hold it up to the same caliber that I try to make my other works reach. But, you know. Read it for what you will.
"Lizzie, did you eat the whole bag already?" asked Mrs. McGuire as she entered her house, picking up a discarded bag of potato chips off the kitchen table. She had bought the chips only a day before.
Lizzie was curled up on the couch, eating M&M's. She looked back at the kitchen, hearing her mother speak. "Oh, sorry Mom," she replied. "I've just been so hungry the past few days. It's almost that time of the month... you know how I get."
Mrs. McGuire laughed softly. "It's okay, sweetie."
Lizzie picked up the remote and turned the television off; she could no longer focus on the tube. She reached into her bag of candy only to find it empty. *I'm still hungry.* she thought to herself, meandering around to the kitchen.
"Are you feeling okay, honey?" asked Mrs. McGuire, sweeping wisps of stray hairs from her daughter's face. "You don't seem yourself today. You're usually bouncing off the walls on the last day of school."
Lizzie flashed her mom a bright, million-dollar smile. "I'm fine, Mom. Just a little PMS, that's all." She grabbed and apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and skipped upstairs to her bedroom. After securing the door behind her, she burst into tears and flung herself onto her bed. Thank god it was over. Thank god Junior High was over forever. She couldn't face any of them ever again.
She gripped her blankets even tighter, pressing her entire body into her matress, hoping it would just swallow her up. The phone rang. Lizzie knew it was Miranda.
*Let it ring* she moaned in her mind. *Just let it ring. Let it ring.*
"Lizzie! Phone for you!" her mother called from downstairs.
At last she lifted her tear-sodden face up from her covers and picked up the cordless phone. "I've got it, Mom!" she yelled back downstairs. Then, hushing to a weak whimper into the phone, "I don't want to talk about it,"
"I figured you wouldn't," said Miranda on the other line. "But you don't have to talk... You can just listen if you want." Lizzie didn't feel like listening, but she did anyway, for Miranda's sake. "He's a jerk. You're waaaay better off without him."
Lizzie spoke in a small, unconvincing voice. "Yeah. I know."
"And besides, you're, like, way too smart for him. Remember, he thought a nail file was a tool organizer? And he spends more time on his hair than you do!" Miranda began to chuckle, laying some bait, but Lizzie wouldn't bite.
"I just want to be alone for awhile. I need to think."
"Sure." Miranda had tried, and failed. Lizzie would just have to get through it on her own. "I'll call you later."
Lizzie hung up the phone as a steady stream of tears continued down her face. She picked up her apple, which was ripe and shimmery, and put it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took a fierce bite of it. She took another, using her teeth to dig her frustration into the crunchy, delicious fruit. *Crunch. Crunch.* She gnawed away at the apple, trying to forget her rejection and humiliation. *Crunch. Crunch.* Within minutes the apple was devoured.
She smothered herself in blankets once again, trying to forget what had happened. After the best two months of her fourteen-year-old world, Ethan Craft had broken up with her.