A/N: Mirae01 and
Natalie36 thanks for the support! This is the last of the reposting . . . I really do hope to post a new part within the next few days . . . You know, barring natural catastrophes, accidents, and/or random acts of god . . .
![Surprised :o](./images/smilies/icon_surprised.gif)
. . .
Part 9
Liz’s POV
So it’s lunchtime and I’m sitting in the cafeteria holding my head in my hands . . .
No, my head doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, all traces of my hangover are gone . . . or at least all
physical traces of my hangover are gone.
But that just leaves me clear-headed enough to remember the things I did last night . . .
Boy do I miss my hangover!
Wow. What’s wrong with
that sentence?
“Liz are you still sulking?” Maria says as she sets her tray down across from me and sits down.
“Sulking?
Sulking?! Maria I humiliated myself last night! This is not sulking, this is . . .” I pause, trying to think of the right word. “. . . Ok, so fine! I don’t know what this is, but it’s definitely
not sulking!”
“Oh! I know what’ll cheer you up!” Maria says excitedly. “How about we go shopping??” and she looks so proud of herself at this idea. It’s really a shame I’m about to shoot her down.
Oh well.
“Maria!” I respond with false enthusiasm. Maria practically bounces in her seat. “How ‘bout we don’t and say we did?!” I say just as excitedly.
I mean, this is sooo not gonna be fixed with shopping . . .
Now it takes a second to penetrate Maria’s euphoric brain that I just shot her down but when she gets it she goes “Hey!!!”
I just quirk an eyebrow at her and she sighs.
“Liz, last night wasn’t all bad. It did end with one Max Evans carrying you home. And he even stopped by this morning to see how you were doing! That’s further than you two have gotten since you’ve known each other.”
I groan.
“Can we not talk about Max? . . . I vomited in front of the man for heaven’s sake!”
“Yes, but said ‘man’ held your hair back while you did. He has to feel
something for you!”
“Yeah Maria, it’s called
’Disgust’ . . . and
‘Hey, should I tell her she has vomit in her hair?’”
Maria looks at me as I hold some strands in front of my face to inspect them . . . Flashbacks of this morning coming back when I looked in the mirror to discover, you guessed it! Vomit in my hair!
Yuck!
Yeah, it was my own vomit, but still . . .
Yes, it’s a sad day when the best thing you can say is
‘At least it was my own vomit.’
“Oh Lizzie! You didn’t really have vomit in your hair, did you?” Maria says sympathetically.
I let go of the strands and let my head fall onto my arms on the table. “Can we talk about something else please?” I say, my voice coming out muffled against my arm.
“Sure . . .” she says hesitantly while patting my shoulder. “How about the new friend you apparently made last night . . . I think their name was . . .
‘Tidy’?”
My head snaps up.
“Oh my god!!
Toilet Tidy!”
Then I just groan and drop my head back down again.
“Huh?” Maria says, obviously confused.
“Maria, Tidy is the name I gave to the toilet I was throwing up in last night” I say.
Maria barely holds in a giggle.
“Now do you see why I am, as you said . . .
sulking? I talked to a toilet last night Maria! And I didn’t just talk, I held a whole conversation with Tidy . . . He didn’t have much to say, but he was a good listener . . .” My head falls back onto the table. “I am such a loser” I say into my arm.
“Oh Lizzie, you’re not a loser . . . You’re just an almost-winner . . .”
“Maria!” I say, giving her a warning look. “You promised you wouldn’t use any more of those wacky inspirational sayings on me, remember?”
“Yeah, but that one so totally fit the situation . . .” she starts then trails off at my annoyed look.
“Ok, fine, fine! But don’t look at
me when you’re in need of inspiration . . .”
“Yeah, I’ll
try not to” I say sarcastically.
I mean, her little book of Inspiration has brought forth pearls, such as . . .
‘There’s no such thing as failure, just success at finding what doesn’t work’ and who could forget the whole chapter dedicated to
‘Conquering loneliness through ventriloquism’?
Wacky doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Anyway, me, head on table, missing my hangover . . .
“Oh Lizzie. Max Evans at 2 o’clock . . .” Maria says.
“Huh?”
My slow brain is just not computing right now. Then I get it and look up. And sure enough, there’s Max at the entrance to the cafeteria, looking around.
“Oh.Dear.God. Maria! Hide me! Pretend I’m not here! Where can I hide?” I say, frantically looking around.
You don’t know how much I wish for invisible pills right now . . . Or that hole in the ground to swallow me up . . . whichever . . .
“Liz? What is so bad? So he saw you throw up? No big deal” she says as I dive under the table.
“Yeah, but I also went up to him and checked out his underwear too” I whisper from under the table.
“You checked out his underwear?!” Maria says, surprised.
“Yeah, you know, boxers or briefs?“ Which is all I need to say for Maria to understand.
“Ok, shush Lizzie. He’s coming this way” she whispers and then I hear “Hi Max!”
“Hey Maria, didn’t I just see . . . ?” He trails off and then I see a set of sneakers step in front me. Then I see knees, a well-defined torso, a head, and then curious amber eyes . . .
“Liz?” he says questioningly.
“Uh, hey Max! Nope Maria, it’s not down here” I say loudly as I get up, trying to pretend I wasn’t cowering like a little beeyotch just a moment ago.
Max helps me up and asks “What were you looking for?”
“Um . . .”
My dignity? My pride? My self respect?
All things I apparently lost last night . . .
I look at Maria’s tray and say “Uh . . . Maria’s meatball . . .”
Yeah, that’ll work, good thinking Liz! Duh!
“Yeah, um . . . Don’t wanna litter, you know?” I say as I’m uncomfortably sitting down.
Maria just nods like one of those dolls on the dashboard. I don’t think she can stop.
“I guess?” Max says, scratching behind his ear.
And this is me . . . melting . . .
If only he didn’t see me with vomit in my hair!
Maria finally gets her neck muscles under control and says “So Max! What brings you to the cafeteria on this bright and sunny day? . . . You know, besides the need for sustenance . . .”
“I was actually looking for Michael . . . Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, he was headed to the art supply store when we were headed here.”
Max nods “Ok, thanks.”
And me? I’m trying a new tactic . . .
It’s called ‘Denial’.
Ok, so maybe it's not so new . . . Anyway, I think it’s working because I’m hearing the theme song to
Scooby Doo in my head . . .
“Scooby scooby doo, where are you? . . .”
But then I lock eyes with Max . . . and Denial land just crumbles . . .
Sigh.
Bye Scooby . . .
Fine, since Denial didn’t work, I’m seriously considering clicking my heels together and chanting
’There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.’
But how silly will I look if it doesn’t work?
Well yeah, ‘cause that’s the biggest concern I have right now, right?
Riiiiight.
“Liz how are you feeling?” Max asks, his attention focused once again on me.
“Um, I’m fine, I’m good” I nod. “Actually, I’m better than good, I’m oh-kay!” I say giving him a corny smile and raising my hand to make an okay symbol with my thumb and forefinger.
I see it happening, but I can’t stop!
“Oh-k” Max says hesitantly.
Then he fidgets with his backpack and says “You know Liz, about last night . . .”
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.
Please make it stop!
What can I do? What can I say?!?
Denial! Denial is my friend right?
“Oh yeah, you know I don’t remember anything?” I say nonchalantly. Or at least nonchalant is what I was going for. It may have come out high-pitched and weird. I’m not really sure.
“Really?” he says and almost looks disappointed. “You don’t remember anything?”
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
“Nope, not a thing after the jello shots . . . It’s all just fuzzy and vague . . . and smushy, can’t forget smushy!” I say and give him a cheesy grin.
Dear god, what’s wrong with me?!?
“Well all that matters is that you’re feeling better” he says as he adjusts his backpack again.
I just nod.
“Well, I guess I’ll catch you guys later” he says as he stuffs his hands in his pockets, echoes of “Bye Max” coming from me and Maria as he walks away.
As he disappears through the cafeteria doors, I shake my head dully. “Did I just use the word
‘smushy’ in a sentence?”
“Yeah, twice actually” Maria answers sympathetically.
And now you know . . .
I have a split personality . . .
On the one side there’s calm, cool, collected Liz.
She and I get along great . . .
But then on the other side, there’s dorkus malorkus Liz . . . I like to call her ‘Evil Ted’ . . .
She’s not really evil, but it seemed fitting.
Ok, so maybe Alex has made me watch Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey one too many times.
Yep, it’s probably his fault . . .
Anyway, Evil Ted shows up at the darndest times!
I groan and drop my head once again.
“So which one was it?” Maria asks me.
“Huh?” I say without looking up.
“Boxers or briefs?”
Max’s POV
So I came into the cafeteria looking for Michael . . . Imagine my surprise when I saw Liz’s head just ducking beneath her table?
But hey, I guess looking for a fallen meatball is a valid lifestyle choice . . . Even though they are biodegradable . . . I think . . . You never know with cafeteria food.
Anyway, for a minute there I’d swear I heard Liz humming the theme song to Scooby Doo . . .
But I was probably just hearing things.
I had wanted to mention to Liz that she didn’t do anything embarrassing around me last night because she seemed to be avoiding eye contact with me . . . But how do you start that conversation?
‘Oh Liz, by the way, you didn’t moon me or take off my pants like you thought you did, so no worries’? . . .
Yeah, that would have gone over well and not embarrassed her!
Ah well, I guess it’s best that she doesn’t remember anything . . . No awkward explanations needed . . .
But now my problem is I can't get that Scooby Doo song out of my head! It just keeps replaying and replaying and . . .
Sigh.
It's gonna be a long day . . .
Liz’s POV
So, like a minute after Max exits the cafeteria, Alex comes running in yelling “Ahhhhhhhh!!!!”
Then as the whole cafeteria turns to look at him, he tries to pretend he made a normal, human entrance.
He spots us and runs up to our table.
“Alex, what is it?!?” I ask, concerned.
“There was . . .” he pauses to catch his breath “a
really big bee behind me!”
Yes, Alex has been taking lessons from Maria on how to be a drama queen.
“Alex, no matter how big it was, it was still just a bee” I say, trying to be the voice of reason.
“Yeah, it couldn’t have been that big, not like that one that chased me that time my cypress oil spilled all over me. That bee was humongous! And I think it had a gun!” Maria says, opening her eyes really wide in that way she has to express horror.
“Right Maria . . . Last time you said it had a knife . . . Now this time it had a gun? Your stories are waaaay outta control” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Anyway!” Alex says, drawing attention back to himself. “I was coming here to see how Lizzie was feeling and I had this muffin, but the bee wanted it, so I had to drop it and run.” And then he sits down at the table and starts eating off Maria’s plate.
“Hey, greedy boy! Why are you eating my food?” Maria says as she swats his hand away from her sandwich.
“Did you not hear the muffin story? Besides, running for your life can make a guy hungry” he says as he grabs a fry and stuffs it in his mouth.
“Alex! It was a
bee!” I say again.
“Hey, you can die from a bee sting!”
“
Other people can die from bee stings . . . You ‘re not even allergic!”
“I could be though.”
“Yeah, and I
could sprout wings and fly, but that only happens on Tuesdays.”
Might as well continue the insanity, right?
“Troy Ackal at 4 o’clock and he’s actually wearing clothes this time” Maria interrupts our chatter to say.
I look over and sure enough, there’s Troy and he is indeed fully clothed . . . but probably only because the cafeteria has a strict no shirt, no shoes, no service policy. That’s the most clothing I’ve seen on him since we returned from break.
I have to say it’s a relief . . . I was beginning to think he had thrown all his clothes out or something . . .
And then another memory assails me.
“Oh my god, you guys, that reminds me! Last night for the first time I thought I finally understood Troy’s lack-of-clothing tendencies!” I exclaim.
Maria looks up from her lunch with interest and an eyebrow quirked . . . Mainly because we spent most of our first month in our new dorm psychoanalyzing Troy’s strange naked behavior . . . We came up with all kinds of theories . . . like he came from a family of nudists or maybe he was like the
Incredible Hulk and clothes just rip off him when he gets angry or something . . .
“I had this whole theory of clothes-stealing gnomes that steal-“ They both give me looks that say I must have gone insane so I wrap it up “-clothes, but yeah, that theory made perfect sense in my jello-shot-induced haze, but obviously in the light of day, I’m seeing things differently . . .” I say and put on my best I-am-sane look.
It actually gets more practice than you’d think.
Maria speaks up “Yeah cause that’s just silly . . .”
I nod my head. Of course she’s right, what was I thinking? Clothes-stealing gnomes? Pshaw!
She continues. “It’s a well known fact that gnomes steal
underpants, not all of your clothing . . .”
Oh-kay . . .
Did I just hallucinate or did she just say that gnomes steal underpants?
“Ok, am I still drunk?” I ask her. She shakes her head no. “Are
you drunk? ‘Cause somebody’s gotta be drunk in this conversation.”
Maria just rolls her eyes and goes back to eating her sandwich.
Alex says to me “So, clothes stealing gnomes huh?”
“Yeah, and evil jello . . . Don’t ask!” I say at his questioning look. “Last night is like the freakin’ train that could . . . It just keeps going and going and going . . . No wait, that’s the Energizer Bunny . . . Oh just whatever!” I say and my head flops down on my arms again. “Loser” I mutter to myself.
Alex rests his arm lightly on my shoulder. “Did Maria lay that
‘almost winner’ thing on you already?”
“Yeah I did, but she hated it” Maria pipes in, shaking her head like she doesn’t get why. I look at Alex “Why?”
“’Cause I was gonna throw it out there if she hadn’t.” He pats my shoulder. “We’ll do ice cream later” he says reassuringly.
“Ok, but no rum raisin” I mutter.
Alcohol is not my friend . . . not even pretend alcohol.
“Alex seriously, get your own food already! You have a meal plan, it’s practically free!” Maria says as Alex is reaching for another fry.
“Fine” he says, “but see if I share when
you’re chased by a bee and have to drop your food.”
“Yeah, gotta say . . . Not too worried about that” Maria replies.
Alex walks away grumbling and I watch him go.
Someone walks by with jello and I flinch because it’s jiggling.
Will this day never end?!?
Yeah, I know technically it just started, but still . . .
Maria’s POV
So I’m over at Michael’s apartment fixing dinner.
‘Why?’ you ask.
Well, because Michael and I had this argument about how I can’t cook and I am determined to prove him wrong, that’s why!
Humph!
So on the menu we have baked potatoes, mixed vegetables, and country fried steak . . .
Yes, I know, a rather large undertaking for someone whose idea of dinner is a box of Krispy Kremes and a Snapple, but I have something to prove tonight. I refuse to live in a world where Michael is right!
I slam the bowl down on the counter and reach for the strainer for the vegetables.
Ok, so fine, maybe I need to calm down a little.
Good air in, Bad air out . . . Good air in, Bad air out . . .
There, now I feel calmer.
I had to send Michael away for a while because he kept getting in the way. I tell you, the guy cooks in the Crashdown for a couple of years and he thinks he’s a master chef!
Anyway, I put two potatoes in the microwave and set the timer.
See? I can totally do this cooking thing!
So I’ve just dipped the steak in the coating I’ve whipped up for it and now I’m pouring the flour.
Everything is going great . . . until the world explodes . . .
Liz’s POV
“So why are we headed to Michael’s apartment again?” Alex asks me for the umpteenth time since I dragged him from in front of the television. He was watching Baywatch and totally didn’t want to leave.
“Because Maria is cooking and we have to take her the secret ingredient for the vegetables . . .”
“And what is that again?” Alex asks as he swipes the bag from me.
I stay silent and wait for the outburst.
“Salt? Salt! Maria’s secret ingredient is
salt?!?” Alex exclaims, outraged. “I left the ladies of Baywatch for this??” Before I can answer he continues “And who doesn’t have salt anyway?”
“Alex, this is Michael. She’s lucky he has dishes” I say.
“Fine, at least the vcr is set . . . But did I leave a tape in there?” he says worriedly as he’s handing the bag back to me.
We get to Michael’s building just as he’s walking up.
I nod a greeting but Alex just gives a lackluster wave and continues to sulk. Michael raises an eyebrow and Alex mutters “Missing Baywatch.” Michael just nods his head in understanding.
Must be a guy thing.
Anyway . . .
“Hey Michael” I say as he precedes us into the building. “How come you’re not in your apartment with Maria?”
“She sent me out because she said . . .” He trails off and looks embarrassed.
“You were getting on her nerves, weren’t you?” I say.
His only answer is a grunt as he opens the door to his apartment.
He calls out Maria’s name as we follow him to the kitchen.
“What the?”
“The hell?”
“Dun dun duhn”
Of course that last one was Alex.
Anyway, we are all shocked because there’s Maria, standing in the middle of Michael’s kitchen, looking totally upset and completely covered in flour . . .
Alex, after he recovers from his shock, starts laughing and very soon Michael joins him.
Now me, I smother my laughter and approach Maria and ask her in a very practiced, but concerned voice “What happened Maria?”
Alex and Michael quiet down to hear her explanation.
Now that I’m closer, I can see there’s even flour in her eyelashes!
Must remain calm. Must not laugh. Must remain calm . . .
“Everything was going fine” she says. “Then the baked potatoes exploded in the microwave and I jumped and then there was all this flour and everything was bad . . .”
Must remain calm. Must not- . . .
Little flour clouds are actually rising from her as she’s flailing her arms about.
Yup, that’s all she wrote boys and girls . . .
I couldn’t hold it in any longer and I burst out laughing too.
By this time, Michael and Alex are practically holding each other up, they’re laughing so hard.
Maria just huffs and goes stomping past us. “In the immortal words of Cartmen, ‘Screw you guys, I’m going home’” she says as she’s almost to the door.
Michael attempts to reign in his laughter and goes after her.
“Maria, Maria wait!” he calls out.
Maria just keeps stomping. She’s leaving little flour trails behind her on the carpet.
“Now we can find our way home” Alex says, pointing at her footprints.
And I had just started to calm down. Now he’s got me started all over again!
“Pixie?” Michael calls out.
That stops Maria in her tracks.
She once told me that she melts inside when he calls her that.
Michael gathers her in his arms, flour drenched and all, and begins whispering to her that they can salvage dinner. That it’s ok.
See and this is the other side to Michael and Maria’s relationship.
Alex mock sighs and goes “Aww, the softer side of Sears . . .”
And this is me, dropping the bag on the counter and dragging Alex to the door.
“However will we find our way home now?” Alex wails, pointing to where Maria’s footprints stop.
What’d I tell you? No help at all . . .
“Alex, isn’t there a Baywatch tape with your name on it somewhere?”
That shuts him up.
And with that I firmly close the door behind us.
Michael and Maria don’t even notice we’re gone.
~~~
Maria comes strolling into our room a few hours later. She doesn’t have as much flour on her, but you can still tell it happened.
Alex puts down his ice cream container and gets up.
“You know what this means Maria?” he says to her as he gestures toward the flour still on her clothes.
“No, what does it mean?” she says, hands on hips.
“You have officially earned the Alex Whitman ‘Dance of Shame’” he says and starts dancing.
“Alex” Maria says warningly.
“No Maria, if I got the dance of shame for the jello shot debacle, you totally deserve it for your adventures in cooking” I say.
Aren’t friends grand?
I get out of the way as Alex shimmies and I hear Maria fussing “Alex don’t-! what are you-? Don’t you dare start doing the running man!”
Yes, Alex is an equal-opportunity shame-maker . . .
Gotta love him.