Paring: Elizaveta Hérderváry/Lilli Zwingli (Hungary/Liechtenstein)
Summary: AU. Elizaveta Hérderváry is a Greaser- a reject of society. All she has is her gang, her turf, and her pride. She's always hated the rich kids, but after meeting a kindhearted girl from a good neighborhood, she isn't so sure.
March, 1958
America
.
Right punch. Left kick. Draw back. Watch out for switchblades. Bike chains hurt like a bitch. Zip guns are deadly.
Elizaveta dodged a punch, falling back a few feet. She glanced around, looking for the other members of her gang. Gilbert had her back, white hair flashing, red eyes blazing. His brother, Ludwig, was nearby, engaging with one of the Vikings. He had this under control. She saw Feliciano and Lovino, two brothers from next door, before another punch came at her. She kicked.
A rumble was nothing new. Winter and the Vikings were always fighting. Rich kid against Greaser conflict happened every day. What was new was it happening on their turf- The Blackbirds turf, her turf. She thought that even big gangs like Winter or a rich kid gang like the Vikings would respect simple boundaries. Maybe it was because Winter was vicious to everyone. The Vikings had enough money to cover anything; she heard they even had handguns.
"Eliza, on your right!"
Elizaveta jumped to the left, narrowly avoiding a punch. She spun around to see her attacker just as their hit landed on Gilbert, right under his jaw. He fell back. Elizaveta rolled up her sleeves and turned around.
It was a girl. Elizaveta had never seen anyone like her at a rumble. Her hair was long, blonde, braided, her eyes green and wide. She was scared. Was she lost? She didn't look like anyone Elizaveta had seen in the Vikings or Winter, the latter of which who had two girls of its own.
Elizaveta glanced over at Gilbert, getting back on his feet. Lost or not, this queen had knocked out someone in Blackbirds. That was the same as family. She took a step toward the girl. Even if she was tiny, she had to be strong to be able to knock Gilbert out with a punch.
Something stilled her hand. Something about the girl made her hesitate. Maybe it was how she looked so small and helpless. Maybe it was because Elizaveta thought she heard her apologize. That moment gave the girl enough time to run off, disappearing into the fray again.
Suddenly, two people barreled in from her neighborhood, switchblades flashing in the light. Gilbert took out his own from his jacket, bike chain in the other hand, and joined the other two. Antonio and Francis, the Bad Touch Trio, why their neighborhood was nicknamed Hell's Cauldron. The rumble ended in seconds, the Vikings and Winter scattering, scaling the wire fences surrounding the park. Elizaveta scanned them but didn't see the girl anywhere with them. Maybe she had run earlier.
She turned back to the rest of the Blackbirds, starting toward Gilbert. It didn't matter. She wouldn't forget a face like that.
.
"I can't believe it." Gilbert said for the tenth time. "I can't believe it! That was a lucky shot. If I had expected it she wouldn't have gotten away."
Francis tossed his perfect shoulder-length blond hair over his shoulder as he laughed. His hair was always perfectly curled, his clothing always perfectly fitting. He looked like an rich kid, even in a scuffed leather jacket and old jeans. "Maybe if you stopped reading those bird books of yours for a minute and focused on actually fighting that wouldn't have happened."
"Encyclopedias, not bird books." Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You're the baker. And I've seen the kind of romances you read."
Francis' hand flew to his chest in mock offense. "Gilbert, you wound me. You really are the White Devil."
Elizaveta snorted. That's what people called him; it was probably a reference to his pale skin and white hair. He was anything but threatening to her.
"I can't believe it. Knocked out by a girl," Gilbert muttered.
"Hey, hey, don't forget that time you popped the bridge off of Roderich's violin and he almost broke your flute. Didn't you faint then?" Elizaveta grinned. "I don't see much of a difference there."
Antonio laughed. He was starkly different from Francis and Gilbert, with thick, dark curls and tan skin. "I'm pretty sure I saw him wearing a corset once."
Gilbert turned bright red and looked away. "At least he's not obsessed with a ventriloquist."
"What did you say about me?"
Roderich's voice interrupted the beginning of Antonio's speech on the greatness of Señor Wences. He would recite it whenever someone insulted him.
Roderich was standing before the fence in front of Gilbert's house, one eyebrow raised. He would never lean on it or touch the fence. He was far too dignified for that. He stood with perfect posture, back straight, hair swept neatly to the sides, clothing immaculate. "Please, continue your conversation. I am intrigued."
Gilbert suddenly became very quiet, looking everywhere but Roderich. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.
"We were just talking about that one time you made him faint." Elizaveta was more than willing to continue. "When he broke your violin, remember?"
Gilbert whirled around, embarrassed. "I'm going in." He stormed off, only getting halfway up the stairs to his porch when Roderich started laughing. He froze, blushed, and tripped, immediately shooting back up and running the rest of the way into the house.
Elizaveta couldn't help laughing herself. "How do you deal with him?"
"An immense amount of patience. Are you coming in?"
She checked her watch. "My shift is starting soon. I gotta go." She worked at a diner nearby, Rocking Johnny's, every night. Her dad hardly made enough to get by and he was almost never home. The money she made was the only spare change they had.
Before she could leave, Francis took her hand, kissing it lightly. "Au revoir, belle dame."
Elizaveta laughed, pulling away. Francis was such a flirt. "Don't have too much fun without me."
.
"Menu for table six."
Elizaveta wiped the sweat off her forehead and took a menu off the stack, weaving through the booths and tables to the front. Rocking Johnny's was always busy- it was one of the most popular diners in that part of town. Elizaveta didn't mind. It meant she would get more tips, after all.
When Elizaveta reached table six, she broke into a grin. "Natalia!"
Natalia looked over to her and raised her hand in a wave. Her hair was white blonde and her eyes were icy blue, but the smile that ghosted over her lips was warm. "Hello, Elizaveta."
Elizaveta glanced around, looking for anyone else, and that smile immediately disappeared. "Katyusha isn't here."
"Oh, of course." Elizaveta dropped her gaze guiltily, taking out her notepad instead. She had admired Katyusha for three years- admired is all she would admit to herself- and even though it had faded it was still a habit to look for her. She took out her pen. "The usual, I'm guessing?"
Natalia nodded, perceptive gaze still fixed on Elizaveta. Her unblinking stare used to unnerve Elizaveta, but she had grown used to it. Natalia didn't try to be frightening. "You must really like Johnny's to come back here so often."
The tiny smile was back. "No. I just like to see you."
Elizaveta couldn't help grinning again. Natalia was very kind, even if she did appear cold. She was one of Elizaveta's closest friends; it didn't matter she was a part of Winter.
Natalia's back suddenly straightened and her face turned stoic. She clasped her hands neatly before her. Elizaveta was about to ask what was wrong when a voice cut in.
"Oh, Natalia! Here you are!"
Katyusha ran up to the table. She was similar in appearance to Natalia but with shorter hair and kinder features. Elizaveta felt nothing when she saw her. No thrill or anything anymore. "Ivan was wondering where you went."
Natalia lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "I have been going here for the past year."
Elizaveta backed away, trying to give them some privacy. She turned in the order and brought food out to another table, glancing over at Natalia every so often. When Natalia's order came Katyusha was gone.
"Did you have an argument?"
Natalia half-shrugged again. "You wanted to see her?" Her eyes were downcast and she kept clasping and unclasping her hands, something she always did when she was upset.
"That was a few years ago, Natalia. I don't care for her anymore." Elizaveta started serving her food.
Natalia sighed. "Yes, of course."
She put her hand on Natalia's shoulder. "I was just a kid then. I was stupid. And I met you through trying to be with her, right?"
That little smile slowly returned. "I suppose you are right." She put her hand over Elizaveta's, her smile widening. She was quite pretty when she smiled. "I am bad at these social things, so I am not sure how friends really work. But you are kind."
Elizaveta grinned again, withdrawing her hand and starting towards the back of the diner before turning around. "Oh, yeah. Is there a girl in Winter that's short, with braided blonde hair and green eyes?"
Natalia's eyes narrowed. "No," She said carefully after a long moment. "Why?"
"Oh, it doesn't matter." Elizaveta picked up her tray and turned around.
It shouldn't have mattered.
So why did it?
.
Elizaveta turned over another time in her bed, closed her eyes again, and tried to sleep again. The wind blew against her window. An owl hooted. The train nearby whistled.
She hated this feeling. She hated being so exhausted that she could hardly keep her eyes open but not being able to sleep. She was so tired after working and Blackbird's problems and school that she could hardly move, that she just wanted to sleep forever, but sleep never came.
She sat up, threw a blanket over her shoulders, and opened her window. The post-winter chill blew in immediately, but she didn't mind. Elizaveta popped off the screen and climbed outside onto the roof.
The roof was her special place. It was the place she could think, where she could breathe, where she could be alone.
Today, a different thought plagued her mind, persistent. A certain blonde-haired, green-eyed thought.
Just who was she?
Elizaveta didn't know why it mattered so much. She had seen the girl for only a few moments, and looking over her clothing now, she was obviously a rich kid. Rich kids were always attacking Greasers- they were sworn enemies. It made sense. Rich kids had nice cars and houses and clothing. Elizaveta didn't even know if she could get through her senior year of high school.
One word, one poisonous, nauseating word was the cause of it; divorce. Divorce was an evil, boiling word that burned going down. Hard to swallow. Elizaveta only had a few memories of her mother before the fighting began. Before she left altogether. Her father would always say it was for the better, that her mother had made a choice. Elizaveta didn't understand how a mother could choose to abandon her child.
Her house was always silent now. Her father was always at work to support them and was almost never home. She was used to it, though. The only things she could remember about her mother was her long, wavy brown hair, her scent, and an old Hungarian song she would sing. Elizaveta got her hair from her; her green eyes were from her father. It was the only thing they had in common, really.
Sometimes, the song would appear again in her dreams, muted strains and lyrics and hazy golden images of her mother sewing or cooking or singing. Elizaveta hated them. Her mother would never come back; she didn't need to be reminded of that.
She looked up to the stars and hoped they would tire her mind enough to sleep without dreams.
.
School was terrible and a blessing. It was terrible because of the constant tension between the Greasers and the rich kids. The rich kid gangs were ridiculous; they would jump Greasers and throw parties and still would be praised by society.
Greasers were the poorer kids. They weren't quite gangsters, but they weren't really middle class either. They would sometimes shoplift or get into rumbles, which were gang fights, but never anything terrible. They had old cars and wore t-shirts and leather jackets and sneakers. Most of them had little money, and if someone got in trouble with a rich kid, they would be the one to pay, even if the rich kid had started it. The name came from the way a lot of them slicked their hair back. The gangs in Elizaveta's town weren't anything big or organized, and the Blackbirds were just her and the people she had grown up with. Sure, there was tension between them and the other gangs, especially the Vikings, but there were never any gang wars or anything serious.
A few members of the Vikings were in her classes; a loud, obnoxious kid named Mathias, a silent and stoic kid named Lukas, and a cheerful and kind kid named Tino who seemed completely out of place. It seemed like the rule for the Vikings was being blond and light-eyed.
She almost liked Tino, but then again, he was a rich kid. Life was made for him. College was foreseeable and not a lofty dream, society loved him, and he wouldn't even have to work at a diner to put himself through high school. He probably hadn't worked a day in his life.
School was a blessing because she had enough money to be there. That was something she could lose any day, since her father might need her to work longer hours to pay the bills or buy groceries. Things were never simple.
Especially not how she couldn't stop thinking of the girl she had seen the day before. She didn't understand it- she shouldn't be interested in a rich kid. The girl had knocked out Gilbert; maybe Elizaveta simply wanted revenge. After all, if Elizaveta had touched one of the girl's friends she would probably be in jail. Rich kids got it easy since they had money and influence.
Elizaveta sighed and tried to concentrate on her math notes. The class never made any sense to her. It was almost impossible to pay attention to, nonetheless understand.
She still couldn't drive the image of the rich girl apologizing. She couldn't forget the way her punch was so strong even though she was so tiny.
Elizaveta cut off her thoughts and drove them away with the drone of the teacher's voice. It was worthless to think about the girl.
Some gaps just weren't meant to be bridged.
The rest of the day passed in a monotonous haze of school and work. Elizaveta went through it without thinking or feeling; doing her homework, walking to the diner, working, going home. She would always have to go back with Natalia. If a rich kid ever saw a Greaser walking around alone they would almost definitely get jumped.
Natalia lived nearby, so it wasn't too much of an inconvenience. Winter's neighborhood was even more run-down than Blackbirds. The streets were full of holes, some houses were boarded up, and someone was constantly yelling.
Elizaveta took a step back toward Blackbird's turf. "I'll see you tomorrow, Natalia."
Before she could step away, Natalia grabbed her wrist. "You can go anywhere on Winter's territory. You know that, yes? It is fine for you to come here with me."
This wasn't something that was common. All a gang had was it's turf. Elizaveta smiled; Natalia must really trust her. She glanced at the sky. The sun was setting, coloring it a deep yellow-orange. "Thank you, but I have to get home. It's getting late and I have to make dinner."
Natalia nodded, releasing her arm, her hand lingering longer than necessary. "I will see you tomorrow." She turned and began toward the houses without another word.
Elizaveta returned to Blackbird's turf. It was quieter here, safer. It was rare to hear anyone yelling and almost all of the houses were occupied.
Today, however, someone was yelling. Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. It wasn't a voice she recognized, and that meant someone who didn't belong was here. She hurried forward until a small girl and a boy came into view. The girl shrunk away from him as he laughed and pushed at her, speaking loudly and cockily. His unusual red hair was slicked back in the typical Greaser fashion, his leather jacket cheap, his jeans ripped. He must have been from a minor gang- definitely not from the Blackbirds.
She sped up, almost running, but before she could get there the boy's voice got harsh and he shoved the girl roughly. She fell hard on the pavement.
"Hey! Cool it!" That was it. The only thing Elizaveta hated more than intruders were intruders who harassed women. "You're cruisin' for a brusin', you know that?" She rolled up her sleeves, ready to pound him. "Let me clue you- This ain't no walk in the park. You're in Hell's Cauldron. You're on my turf." She crossed her arms, standing ready for whatever he would start. "So I suggest you turn around and walk right back out, because you won't last much longer here."
For a long moment, the boy just stood there, glaring at her. Sizing her up and down. Elizaveta cracked her neck, her gaze turning icy. Another tension-filled moment passed. Finally, with a huff of annoyance, he walked off. Elizaveta sighed, pulling her sleeves back down and relaxing. She heard Winter beat whoever went on their turf- maybe if the Blackbirds did that, they would be taken more seriously.
She turned to look at the girl. Her eyes widened. "You!"
It was the same girl from the rumble, looking even more scared that before. Her hair was in the same two braids, her eyes were just as green. This was the girl who attacked her. This was the girl who knocked out Gilbert. A hot slush of anger burned in her stomach, her hands tightening into fists. Maybe she shouldn't have helped her.
And then Elizaveta noticed the trickle of crimson down the girl's shin, and the slush cooled, melted. "You're bleeding."
The girl didn't meet her gaze. Her hand flew over her leg. "The rocks are sharp, and there's some broken glass." Her voice was soft, gentle.
Broken glass was not good. Not good at all. Suddenly, Elizaveta didn't care that this girl had hurt her friends or didn't belong here. All that mattered was that she was small and hurt and needed help. "Are you alright? Can you walk?" Elizaveta offered her hand to the girl. "Come inside. I have bandages and peroxide. What's your name?"
She stared at Elizaveta's hand for a moment before taking it cautiously, hoisting herself up and leaning on Elizaveta. "Lilli."
"Alright, Lilli, I'm Elizaveta. How's that leg doing?"
Lilli took an experimental step, then winced. "It's okay."
Elizaveta put her arm around Lilli's waist and Lilli's arm around her shoulders. "Lean into me. Put as little weight as you can onto it. Yes, there we go..."
It took a bit of struggling to get into the house and Lilli onto a chair, but after she was, Elizaveta grabbed her medical kit and got to work. The cut wasn't deep, but it was long and surrounded by smaller wounds. She put Lilli's leg over a tray, taking out the peroxide. She had an array of supplies. Whenever one of the Blackbirds got hurt, they always came to her. "Who was he?"
Lilli shook her head. "I'm not sure. I was just... On a walk when he started talking to me."
Elizaveta uncapped the peroxide, pouring it over the wound. Lilli flinched and sucked in her breath through her teeth. "You're strong, especially for your size. Where did you learn to fight?"
"My brother." Lilli watched with interest as Elizaveta cleaned the cut. "What does that do?"
She took the bandages from the kit. "The peroxide cleans it. Keeps it from getting infected." She finished the bandage. "There we are. It's not too bad; you shouldn't have too much trouble with it tomorrow."
Elizaveta checked her clock. Almost seven o'clock. She had to make dinner soon. "Hey, Lilli? Have you eaten yet?"
Lilli shook her head.
"Well, you sit tight, then, and I'll cook something up." Elizaveta started toward the kitchen. "You won't want to put too much pressure on your leg just yet walking home. Will your parents miss you?"
When there wasn't a response, Elizaveta looked back at Lilli. She had suddenly turned withdrawn, her brow furrowed and her eyes downcast. "No," she said softly.
Elizaveta wouldn't ask. She had seen all sorts of different situations; no one seemed to have a happy family. Lilli's was none of her business. "You can stay the night if you want, then. A lot of people in the gang crash here. My dad's not gonna care. He won't notice, either." Her dad didn't come home until late at night and usually went straight to sleep. She couldn't remember the last time they had a proper conversation, and she hadn't seen him in two weeks. It's what kept her in school, though, so she wouldn't complain.
The entire time she cooked, Lilli didn't say a thing. She just picked at her skirt or glanced nervously at the room around her. Elizaveta wondered what she thought of her house; it was small and shabbily decorated and nothing like the giant, beautiful houses she had seen in the rich kid neighborhoods. Her entire house could probably fit in one room in Lilli's.
Elizaveta paused. She had never been self-conscious before. Why did this suddenly matter so much? She shook her head and focused on the pot before her, dishing out the food. "C'mere. Food's ready."
Lilli was still silent as they ate, staring at her bowl with downcast eyes. For some reason, Elizaveta wanted to get her to talk. She wanted to get to know Lilli. It was strange; Lilli was a rich kid. Elizaveta would probably never see her again after this.
It wouldn't hurt to try while she was here, though. "How is it?"
It seemed to take Lilli a moment to realize Elizaveta was speaking to her. Her eyes darted up then for a moment before she nodded. Elizaveta tried again. "You mentioned your brother. Who is he?"
That got a little more of a reaction. "Vash. He's strong. Likes to hunt."
Vash Zwingli. Elizaveta knew him. He looked quite a bit like his sister, but with hair cropped to his shoulders and an air of cold authority around him. He followed Roderich around like his shadow. "You must know Roderich Edelstein, then."
Lilli nodded again. Elizaveta was about to ask something else when she continued. "Roderich is nice to me. He and Vash have a weird friendship."
"Weird?"
Lilli shrugged. "They always seem to be fighting about something, but he's Vash's best friend. It's... Weird."
This was the most she had said yet. This was good. "I have a friend like that. Gilbert."
Lilli stiffened. "The White Devil. That gangster. He's scary." Her eyes went wide all of a sudden, her hand over her mouth. "No, I didn't mean-"
Elizaveta couldn't help from laughing. Gilbert, scary. Gilbert, who denied he liked Roderich at all, even as a friend. Gilbert, who was obsessed with birds and his little brother. Absolutely terrifying.
Lilli simply looked confused now, her hand lowering. "I'm sorry?"
"No, no, you're fine." Lilli would have no idea just how Gilbert really was. How anyone in The Bad Touch Trio was. She only had rumors to go off of, after all. "Wanna know a secret?"
Lilli nodded uncertainly.
"Gilbert isn't scary at all, really." Elizaveta knew she probably shouldn't say anything at all, but Lilli wouldn't hurt anyone. She wasn't sure how she was so certain- she just was. "He loves birds. He has a little one he takes care of. You know what he named it?"
Lilli shook her head.
Elizaveta leaned forward, grinning. "Gilbird," She whispered.
For a moment, Lilli just stared at her blankly. Then, she laughed, a tiny, innocent giggle, and Elizaveta was captivated. She had such a charming smile, and Elizaveta was strangely proud to be the cause of it. She just wanted to keep her laughing. "He's a completely doting older brother. And he has a bookcase full of bird books- excuse me-" Elizaveta paused, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Encyclopedias."
Lilli was laughing harder now, her smile wider. "But they say he's so scary. I saw him take a switchblade out in class."
Elizaveta raised an eyebrow. "He's not scary, just an idiot. We don't ever use them unless we need to."
Lilli's eyes went wide again, but she was still smiling. She was impressed. "You have one, too?"
Elizaveta shrugged and took it out of her coat pocket, flipping out the blade. "Wanna hold it?"
Lilli reached tentatively toward her, and Elizaveta placed it in her hand. "Wow."
"Don't worry, I only used it once, and that was to cut a bird out of some wires. Gilbert was freaking out about it."
Lilli turned the blade in her hand, examining it. "My brother has an army knife, but it's not like this. This one is really sharp." She handed it back to Elizaveta.
"Well, sharp is how we need it. We never know when some rich kid might attack." She winced. "Shit. Sorry." She slid the knife back into her pocket and gathered up the dishes, standing from the table.
"I would never hurt anyone, you know." Lilli's voice was quiet again. "We're not all like that."
"You're nice. Roderich is nice. And I'm sure Vash is. But the other ones?" She sighed, dumping the dishes in the sink and turning on the water. "Not so much. Especially to us."
Lilli limped up to her and started drying off a dish, not saying anything else. Elizaveta swallowed an apology. It was the truth, no matter how much it hurt. The rich kids lived different lives than the Greasers. They were in different worlds.
She tried to change the subject. "How's your leg doing? Do you think you could make it home? It's a bit of a long walk."
Lilli didn't respond for a moment. Had she not heard her? But when Elizaveta looked over to her, Lilli seemed nervous; she was picking at her skirt again, her eyes fixed on the floor. "I... I don't know if it's safe for me to go back."
Oh. Poor girl. "You can stay here, if you would like. The school isn't too far from here. I have a shower upstairs; I could find something that'll fit you."
"I don't want to impose..."
Elizaveta smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's nice not being all alone here, after all. Come here, I'll show you to the shower."
Elizaveta had almost nothing that could fit Lilli. She was like a little fairy while Elizaveta was taller and anything but. She dug around in her drawer, finally finding a T-shirt and pajama pants. It would do. She hung them up on the bathroom door before zipping up her jacket and going onto the roof. The train whistled in the background, the stars twinkled above, the shower sounded like rain. The air was cold, easier to breathe, in and out, thin and dry. It was calm. She could hear faint flute music from the house across the street, and, focusing in on it, piano chords. She smiled to herself. Gilbert and Roderich were playing together. Ever since Roderich was assigned to accompany him in the school band class they were inseparable "friends". Gilbert insisted that was all they were, but Elizaveta could see there was more.
The very end of the street used to have two vacant houses, but someone had moved in lately. Elizaveta didn't know who it was; they didn't bother the Blackbirds and the Blackbirds wouldn't bother them. After the last two houses, there was a thin strip of trees before the train tracks. The train would rush by once in the morning and once at night; it would serve as her alarm every day.
The shower turned off. The music stopped. The train's whistle faded off into the distance. Elizaveta opened her eyes. This was strange. This was too quiet.
And then there was a gunshot. A scream. Another.
Silence.
In seconds Elizaveta's switchblade was out and she was putting the screen back in the window, closing it and pulling down the blinds. She ran downstairs, locking the door.
"Is this normal?"
Lilli's voice was tiny, her arms around herself, backing into the wall. She was scared. She was scared a lot, but then again, she wasn't used to this.
"No." Elizaveta put as much conviction as she could into her voice. She didn't need to tell Lilli how often it really was. She didn't need to mention how close the gunshot sounded. When Lilli still was afraid, Elizaveta went over to her and took her hand. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you."
Lilli just nodded and squeezed Elizaveta's hand.
They stood in silence for a while, Elizaveta's ears trained on any sound she could hear outside. It was unnaturally quiet outside. She didn't think that whoever fired the gun would come around again, but she wouldn't take any chances.
Lilli broke the silence. "Why are you so nice to me?" She wouldn't look up from the ground, and her free hand was clenching the hem of her shirt.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Lilli shrugged. "I'm a rich kid."
What Lilli was saying made perfect sense. That's how Elizaveta should be thinking. Natalia would have never helped a rich kid. "But before being rich, you're a person. And you're an injured person."
Elizaveta didn't know if it was right. But when Lilli looked up to her and smiled, it didn't matter. Lilli was a kind person, and damn the rest. She deserved kindness just as much as anyone else.
"I'll keep watch down here if you want to sleep. There's a sofa in my room. If you need anything, just yell and I'll be up."
Lilli nodded again and withdrew upstairs. Elizaveta sighed, falling into a chair. She put her switchblade back into her pocket and buried her face in her hands. What was she doing? She liked Lilli. That wasn't good. Lilli was a rich kid, the enemy.
This was only for a night. Lilli would have her house and her family to return to after this and they would never meet again. Elizaveta was stuck here.
Time passed slowly. Elizaveta stared at the wall, checked the clock, flipped out her switchblade and back. Ten o'clock. Ten-thirty. At twelve, she would go to sleep.
The unnerving silence outside was abruptly ended by footsteps running up to her house, onto her porch. Someone pounded on the door. "Elizaveta! Elizaveta!"
She flipped out her switchblade and opened the door a crack, peering out. Lovino and Antonio. It was strange to see them together; she never had before. Lovino tended to avoid anyone from the Bad Touch Trio like the plague. She opened the door further, noticing Lovino's ashen complexion and heaving chest. "What happened?"
Lovino couldn't speak. He was almost hyperventilating, looking as if he would fall over any second. Antonio put his hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Breathe. It's alright."
Cold fear started creeping up her throat. Inhale, exhale. Air like knives. Doorknobs like ice. "What happened?" She could only repeat herself, forcing out the words past the iceberg in her throat. She couldn't be afraid. She had to be strong.
"A body-" Lovino inhaled sharply. "Shot. To death. On the train tracks.
Notes-
The Greaser/Rich Kid conflict was something that really went on in the 50s. There was a large divide between the rich and the poor during this time.
Queen- Rich/Popular girl- slang
Señor Wences was a Spanish ventriloquist. He was very popular through the fifties and into the sixties, often appearing on the Ed Sullivan show. /watch?v=AJiYZ6QIAtY