Well...I don't have much to say about this particular chapter or fanfic. The last one I wrote didn't really have a plot, but I swear this one will. Riccio has always been one of my favorite characters, so this fanfic will include more of him. Also this takes place after the merry-go-round and that stuff. Probably about a year later. And here are the ages of Cornelia Funke's characters (I know they don't quite coincide with he book): Bo-8, Prosper-17, Hornet-16, Mosca-17, Riccio-16, Scipio-23. It's rated T for language and possibly in the future mild/implied violence. Oh, and this will all be told from Charlie's POV. If it's confusing, feel free to PM me so I can clarify anything. Reviews, constructive criticism, even angry rants are appreciated.
Try to make it through my life, in my way, there's you Just don't deny it If you were dead or still alive I try to make you see my side I'm getting buried in this place If you were dead or still alive
I try to make it through these lies, that's all I do
Don't try to fight this and deal with it, yeah
Just deal with it
And that's just part of it
I don't care, I don't care
Just go and leave this all behind
'Cause I swear, I swear
I don't care
I always try to stay in line
But your eyes see right through
That's all they do
I've got no room, you're in my face
Don't say anything, just go away
I don't care, I don't care
Just go and leave this all behind
'Cause I swear, I swear
I don't care
I Don't Care, Apocalyptica w/Adam Gontier
Therapy. God I hated this place. But my aunt and uncle, Meredith and Robert, thought I should go. So here I am, sitting in a perfect circle with other kids my age and two therapists.
"And how are you today, Charlie?" Dr. Pelagatti asked.
"A five." Each meeting always started off by rating how our day was on a scale of one to ten. Ten being "Perfect!" and one being "Shoot me now!" I always said I was a five. Even when I wasn't.
"You're always a five." Leo, an annoying know-it-all who was always a ten blurted out. Hypocrite.
I shot him a look but said nothing.
"That's a good observation Leo," Dr. Gulli, the other therapist said, then he looked at me, "Do you know why you're always a five?"
I sighed, "I dunno, maybe because I'm not any higher or lower?"
"It's a serious question." Dr. Pelagatti said, "Are you really always a five?"
I nodded, wanting everyone to move on already.
"Would you tell us if you weren't?" Dr. Gulli asked.
I nodded again. So what if I'm a liar, if I did tell the truth I'd be going to this thing for the rest of my life.
"Alright, what about you Riccio?" Dr. Pelagatti looked at the boy next to me. I didn't recognize him, maybe he was a new addition or something. He had a mess of dirty blonde hair on his head and wore a black leather (or fake leather) jacket. The rest of his clothes were black as well. I wondered how he could stand it with the humidity and heat that took over Venice in the summer.
Riccio didn't say anything.
"Would you care to introduce yourself?" She continued.
Riccio rolled his eyes, "My name's Riccio."
"And how was your day?"
"Five."
"See?" She smiled, "Was that so hard?"
Again, Riccio was silent.
The next person, Lucia, said she was an eight; Then Armando was a five; Matteo a four; Camilla a two; Valeria a nine; Leo was of course a ten; and Loretta was a six.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" Riccio asked as soon as everyone was done.
Dr. Pelagatti pursed her lips, "Charlie, would you accompany him to the bathroom?"
I frowned, usually if someone had to use the bathroom they could go by themselves. This guy must've done something to need a chaperone. "Sure." I stood up and walked towards the door. Behind me, I heard him follow suit.
We walked down the hallway in complete silence, passing several doors that led to other therapists' offices. When we turned the corner there was a wall with a 'Wet Paint sign' taped to it. I never had been able to resist touching walls that said wet paint. And whenever I did touch the wall/bench/etc it never was wet. I reached out a hand and touched the pale blue wall.
"Ugh." I pulled my hand away.. Not only was there blue paint all over my hand, I'd left a handprint on the wall. Oops.
Riccio had stopped and watched me touch the wall, "What'd you do that for?" He asked.
"I wasn't expecting it to actually be wet." I said defensively.
He raised his eyebrows, and slowly turned his gaze towards the sign then back at me.
I realized how ridiculous I'd sounded and added, "They're never wet."
"You do this often." It was a statement.
"The bathroom's this way." I ignored him and took the lead again.
When we did reach the restrooms, I used my paint-less hand to pull on the doorknob of the girls' room, while Riccio turned the boys' room doorknob.
"That's the girls' room." He said, I was about to step inside the bathroom.
"Yeah? And?"
"Aren't you-"
"No, I'm not." I snapped, feeling my blood slowly begin to simmer.
He smirked, "Well forgive me, you're not exactly-" He looked me over quickly.
"Jessica Alba?" I finished.
"That and you're name's Charlie."
"Whatever." I passed through the doorway to the bathroom so I could wash my hands.
I watched myself in the scratched up mirror as I washed my hands. I did resemble a guy. A little. I was relatively flat chested, my sister often joked about why I should bother with a bra. And I did wear guys' clothes. Today I was wearing baggy blue jeans and a baggy green T-Shirt. It didn't help that there was no trace of make-up on my face. I didn't know the difference between eyeliner and blush, never mind know how to use any of it. And my dark red hair was pulled into a loose ponytail spare the bangs I'd accidentally given myself in an attempt to cut my hair. I left those out of the ponytail since they only reached my earlobe. And my pale green eyes (No one in my family knew where I got my red hair and green eyes from because as far as everyone knows, not a drop of Irish blood runs in our veins) weren't particularly girl-ish looking.
I turned off the faucet after making sure all the paint was off my hand, then returned to the hallway where Riccio was leaning against the wall.
"This is awkward." He said as we walked down the hallway.
I didn't say anything.
"I thought acknowledging the awkwardness would make it go away."
Again, I didn't say anything.
"So," He said loudly, his voice echoing off the walls, "Why are you in group therapy?"
I raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm supposed to talk about that with some guy who I've never met and who, until a few minutes ago, didn't even know if I was a boy or girl?"
"Is that a 'No I'm not going to tell you'?"
I didn't answer him. We'd gotten to the door of the group room.
"Ladies' first." He said sarcastically, opening the door.
"Then go ahead." I replied.
"Ha." He said dryly.
"Riccio and Charlie, will you two be joining us any time soon?" Dr. Pelagatti asked from within.
"Unfortunately." I muttered under my breath, taking a seat.
"What was that?" Dr. Gulli asked.
"Nothing," I smiled sweetly at him, "Nothing at all."
"You're late." My sister Claire said as I arrived at the gelataria where we worked. Even though we were both fluent in Italian (though we both still had a hint of a British accent), we used English when speaking to each other, as it was our first language.
"I know, I know," I pulled on a black apron that had the store's logo on it and joined her at the counter.
"What happened this time?" Our other co-worker, Damian, asked from the cash register. He was learning English in school and was taking every opportunity he could to use it.
"The group ran long today." It was six fifteen, and the rush that usually came late at night hadn't started yet.
"Can I help you?" Claire asked a teenage girl and a ten-ish year old boy. I assumed he was her brother.
"Uh…" The girl trailed off. She leaned down to whisper something in her brother's ear. The boy nodded and she looked back at my sister. "One small cup of lemon." She said. Her Italian vocabulary wasn't bad, she knew the right words, but she had a thick American accent when she spoke.
"Sure, anything else?" Claire asked in English, I guess she heard the accent as well.
The girl looked a little surprised but shook her head. Claire scooped lemon gelato into a cup then handed it across the counter to her, "Take this to the register." She pointed to Damian. The girl nodded then followed her directions.
A few minutes later Damian said he was going to use the restroom. I took over at the register for him.
I watched the next group of people; a teenage boy with light brown hair, a girl with a dark braid down her back (like a wasp or bee stinger), plus a younger kid with angelic blonde hair order their gelato.
When they arrived at the register, the girl reached for her wallet.
"I'll pay for it," The boy said, brushing her hand away.
"Prop, it's fine, I-"
"It's you're birthday, c'mon." The boy (Prop?) said, handing me a ten euro bill.
Her cheeks flushed a little as he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. I handed him the change.
"That was so sweet." Claire cooed after they had walked away and out of earshot.
I looked over at her.
"Well it was!"
I didn't say anything.
"Scoot." Damian said from behind me.
I moved over so he could man the cash register.
The rush began around seven, and by nine we reached a lull where we slowly started closing things up.
"Charlie, will you tell Meredith and Rob I'm going to the movies with friends?" Claire asked after Damian had locked the door.
"That depends…Are you?"
"Charlie."
I laughed, "'Course I will."
"Thank you so much. I really owe you." She gave me a hug then dashed off.
This happened about once or twice a week. By now she owed me the entire world pretty much. She tried not to use the same excuse twice (Before this one of her friends' grandmother died, and before that she promised to babysit one of her teacher's children). As far as we knew Meredith and Robert had no idea what was going on.
Ian, Claire's boyfriend was soundly disliked by both Meredith and Robert. He'd been involved in a drug bust a few years back, and had done time in prison. Afterwards, he'd gone to rehab and had been clean ever since. He met Claire one particularly slow night while he was taking his little sister out for gelato. The two hit off immediately.
When Claire told Meredith and Robert about him, they wouldn't allow her to see him. Even though Claire had omitted the part about him going to prison, they recognized his name from the newspaper. Apparently, it was the third biggest bust in the past decade. And no matter how much she argued that he was clean and had a steady job now, they forbid her form seeing him. So now, she has to sneak off so they can meet.
Personally, I didn't care whether or not he'd gone to jail. All that really mattered was that he made Claire happy. And that's one of the few things (besides swimming and playing darts) that he excels at.