AN: Wow! The response for the last two chapters has been amazing! Thank you very much for your comments and reviews. This one was bugging me and I was just having an unproductive morning, so I thought I'd get it out.
As for something someone said, I thought it might be a good point to state it and perhaps to explain my thoughts briefly. Sophia is very much a kid in some ways…and she's wise beyond her years in others. She's a sixteen year old girl that has learned a lot about people in her life…and a lot about life, but what she's learned she's learned by observation of experiences. She's lacked nurturing and she's lacked anyone actually explaining things to her. In some ways that means she's grown up quickly and in others it means she's never even begun to grow. Also, if you remember back to how you reasoned through things when you were young, you probably will remember that you lacked a lot of information that later years provided you. So yes, Sophia is caught in that cusp. She's more grown up than she should be in some ways, but still very much a kid in others.
Anyway, just thought I'd give a little insight into Sophia there. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Let me know what you think!
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It was piss pouring rain the next day when Sophia came marching through the shop door, looking like a drowned rat and shivering. There had been a significant drop in temperature the night before and the stall doors were closed, the shop heated by two small, glowing kerosene floor heaters that Wren had drug in earlier that day.
Daryl was working on one of the cars they needed to move out fairly quickly because the old woman that brought it in was without transportation besides calling her youngest daughter, who lived two towns away and was a bitch to boot.
Sophia shucked off the poor fitting jacket she had and hung it on a nail near the water fountain before crossing across the shop, her sneakers squeaking on the floor.
"Where is everybody?" Sophia asked.
Daryl looked up from what he was doing, trying to get a door off that was being none too cooperative.
"Merle went out with Tootie to tow in a car," Daryl said. "Mac's got court today an' he's prob'ly off bein' a sorry son of a bitch if he's done with that, and Wren went for some parts over in Jefferson."
"Figured you mighta pulled your heap in here to work on it, seeing as there ain't nobody here," Sophia drawled. Daryl looked at her. Sophia liked to tease them all. She liked to pretend that she talked more properly than the rest of them, and sometimes she did and sometimes she didn't, but imitating their speaking was one of her most common efforts at a jab.
"Shut up," Daryl barked at her. He caught a smile flash across her face before she started cleaning up the workbench, dropping everything into the trash bin that hadn't made it there throughout the day since most of them just dropped what they were using where they stood. "Didn't drag it in 'cause I gotta make a paycheck, an' this here car's what's gonna make up most of it."
Sophia walked over, standing just behind Daryl and leaning over him.
"When you paint your car," Sophia started, "what color are you going to paint it? Have you decided yet?"
Daryl snickered. The discussion of the color fate of the coupe was one of Sophia's favorite topics and she knew damn good and well that he hadn't made up his mind. Every time he picked out a color, he changed his mind. He'd been good and settled on orange for a bit, until he saw the bright lemon color that he thought might look better…might even detail the thing. He'd thought about figuring out something unique with both colors, until Sophia had started the little shop trend of calling it the Citrus Mobile and it had caught on with a fury in the shop…as did anything even semi witty that the girl came up with.
"Fuck no I ain't got no damn color picked out," Daryl growled. "Ya kinda fucked up my plan with ya big damn mouth."
Sophia chuckled.
"Sorry," she said.
Daryl chuckled in response. He knew she wasn't sorry and she knew it too.
Sophia walked around the car he was working on, her little fingers messing with one part and then another.
"You should paint it purple," Sophia said. "Like that color that I picked out that Wren's gonna help me spray my toolbox."
"Wren's just lettin' ya do that shit ta get some practice sprayin'," Daryl said. "Just like paintin' them trashcans the other day. Just somethin' ta let'cha get the gun in ya hands without fuckin' up somethin' somebody's payin' out money on."
"I didn't fuck up the trash cans," Sophia said. "They're nice looking trash cans. Better than they were before."
Daryl sighed and shook his head.
"Purple?" He asked after a minute, scooting the roll away back and stretching his back. Sophia stopped her circle around the car and nodded at him.
"It's a nice purple," Sophia said. "Metallic and everything. Shines nice in the light and you can bet it'd turn some heads."
"Car's gon' turn some damn heads don't matter what color it is," Daryl growled.
Sophia shrugged.
"Maybe so…" Sophia said. "But a purple coupe…that'd be nice to look at."
Daryl chuckled a little to himself.
"An' when I say I like it? Ya gon' start callin' it the fuckin' Grape Mobile? The mighty fuckin' grape?" Daryl asked.
Sophia smiled and shook her head.
"No, I wouldn't do that," she replied. "Purple's my favorite color."
Daryl grunted and turned back to what he was doing, finally winning the war over the door and getting it off for better inspection.
"Purple is Carol's favorite color too," Sophia said. "We have that in common…"
Daryl stopped for a minute, his stomach doing a somersault at the mention of Carol's name. He swallowed, hoping the girl hadn't picked up on it and went back to focusing his attention on the door. He was going insane with random thoughts of the woman and he didn't like it one damn bit. The only thing he could do was try to keep occupied enough that nothing made him think about her…and nothing made him wonder what she thought of him, if she even thought of him at all.
Sophia didn't get the memo from Daryl's brain, though, because she crossed around the back of the car where her view would have been better of Daryl even though he was nearly on the floor.
"She took care of everything at the school," Sophia said.
Daryl grunted.
"Sprung ya outta kiddie jail?" Daryl asked, not looking up.
"I went today…I'm not suspended anymore. Hailey Jackson didn't even get near me in the hall…not even when it was crowded. Her face is almost green now," Sophia said.
Daryl chuckled.
"Ole ass bruises change some pretty fucked up colors 'fore they go away," Daryl said.
"Yeah…" Sophia said. She paused for a moment and watched Daryl as he worked.
"Get me a screwdriver?" He asked. Sophia leaned over him to study what he was doing a moment and then crossed the shop, returning with the appropriate screwdriver and handing it to him. He grunted his thanks.
"Carol must have scared her parents enough they told her to leave me alone," Sophia said.
"Or she don't got a hankerin' ta get her face broke again…" Daryl said.
He wanted to steer the conversation away from the woman…talk about the car he might never finish at the rate he was going…talk about the car he was taking apart at the moment…talk about some kid's ugly ass bruise…he'd have rather talked about anything if Sophia was going to push him to talk, rather than Carol.
"Daryl…" Sophia started again. Daryl sighed audibly to hope to send her trotting off to do one of the half million odd jobs he could think of, but she didn't go anywhere. "Did you like Carol?"
Daryl glanced at the girl and cleared his throat before slowly returning to what he was doing. She could be more annoying than the men around the shop if she had a mind to be, and it was because she didn't so much as give him hell as she asked him shit and then stood there staring at him…eyes wide…until he answered. She didn't forget half as damn fast as the others did either.
"She's alright," Daryl said, not knowing what else to say.
Sophia leaned against the car.
"Do you think she's pretty?" Sophia asked.
"She's alright," Daryl responded.
"She is pretty," Sophia said. "I think she's pretty…I think we kind of look alike…she's got a lot of freckles like me and her hair's about the same color as mine."
Daryl chuckled.
"If that's all the hell it takes ta look like someone, reckon I could damn near look like Wren," Daryl said. He glanced at Sophia, but she didn't look amused. She was frowning at him. He was sorry he said it now. "Ya do kinda look alike…OK? An'…she's pretty enough, I reckon. Just don't say that shit 'round here when they all here."
Sophia dropped to her knees on the concrete floor on the other side of the door that Daryl was taking apart and inspecting.
"You should call her sometime," Sophia said. "Come back to dinner…when I'm not in trouble for slamming some bitch into the lockers."
"What'd ya slam her face in the lockers for any damn way?" Daryl asked.
"She was talking shit," Sophia said. "She didn't know when to shut her mouth…so I shut it for her."
Daryl snickered.
"Reckon enough people 'round here talk shit," he said. "Ya gon' go ape an' slam Wren's head into some wall some day…might pay ta see it."
Sophia shook her head.
"Wren doesn't mean what he says," Sophia said. "Hailey Jackson knew what she was doing, and she got what the hell she deserved."
Daryl grunted.
"Reckon she did," he said. "Look at this door."
Sophia leaned over it.
"Scrap it or save it?" Daryl asked.
Sophia looked at him curiously.
"I thought y'all already wrote an estimate on this one…" she said.
"We did…but we been up in the air 'bout this door. 'Sides…don't'cha know nothin' 'bout pretend? Now Mac, see…he wants ta scrap it. I'm wonderin' if we can't save it, though…so if you was writin' the estimate on it, scrap it or save it?" Daryl responded.
Sophia studied the door, shifting around on her knees on the floor. She sat back after a minute on her heels and looked at Daryl hard, the way she looked when she was being as serious as she could muster.
"If I was Mac," she said, "I'd scrap it. Because he makes more money off it that way…the shop makes more money if you gotta buy a whole new door. Besides…he isn't good enough to save it."
Daryl didn't interrupt her. If they were going to train the girl at a trade…if she was serious about wanting to go on from here to work somewhere…or work here…or whatever it was that she thought she might do when she grew into her knees and her elbows, he figured she had to learn just as much shit as they'd all learned along the way. And working in a shop required a good deal of knowledge…knowledge beyond your skill set even…knowledge of people, whether you cared for them or not, was certainly a plus.
"If I was you," Sophia continued, "I'd save it. You know you could put in the extra hours if it was worth it and it'd be good as new. It isn't that far gone. An' if I was Wren…I'd split the difference."
"Split the difference?" Daryl asked.
Sophia smiled.
"I'd make a couple of calls to see if I couldn't get a cheap replacement off some old car Tootie's got," Sophia responded. "Then, if I couldn't find anything that was cheaper than the hours would be, I'd pass it to you…because I'd know you could fix it, even if I'd give up on it."
Daryl chuckled lightly.
"Fuck it," he growled. "Ain't gon' be too damn many hours no way…an' Wren done called Tootie. Can't find nothin' 'less we go all new on it…"
"So you fix it," Sophia said.
She pulled herself to her feet and dusted off her knees, crossing the shop. Daryl gained his feet too, giving his back a rest from being down on the floor and stretched everything that he could, sighing to himself at the cracking and popping that issued forth from his body.
"I fix it," he said. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket to mirror the action of the girl and they both lit them. Sophia drug a step stool near the kerosene heater, much in the same position Wren had been occupying for most of the day, and Daryl grabbed himself the metal stool that Mac held down in the corner most of the time.
They both sat around the kerosene heater, far enough away so they didn't catch fire from the blazing heat the thing put out, and sucked in the heat while they smoked.
"You should call Carol…" Sophia offered after a minute. "She would like it. She's going back to work soon…but we eat dinner every night."
Sophia tipped her head toward Daryl and he almost laughed at the way she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye like that.
Daryl shook his head.
"Ya Ma ain't my girlfriend," he said finally, feeling like he might know what the little twit was up to.
"And she ain't my Ma," Sophia responded.
"She's kinda ya Ma…" Daryl said.
"Well…" Sophia said, cocking her eyebrow before taking a drag off her cigarette and flicking the ashes to the floor to the join the other piles of dust and dirt that would have to be swept out.
Daryl rolled his eyes at her. He glanced at the clock and figured that if the assholes he worked with weren't back by now, they weren't coming back. They were probably scattered about drinking coffee and shooting the shit in some diner somewhere…burning the last little bit of time before they could swing in here long enough to clock their so called hours and go skipping off until the next morning.
He was just stuck here with the kid…though he didn't mind her all that much. As far as people went, actually, he was fonder of Sophia than he'd been of most people he'd known in his life. She wasn't shy to give him hell…but there was something different in the way she did it. She always seemed to know when to stop…how far to push it…before he really sincerely just wanted to get the fuck away from her and stay that way. Also, there was something about the kid that made Daryl think that maybe…if he'd been a knobby kneed, freckle faced girl…he'd have been a little like her if he could go back and meet who the hell he was before time had marched its sorry ass across his back and across his face.
"Ya just as well a' not come in today," Daryl said, changing the subject for the mere reason that he didn't want to further pursue anything about the woman he considered Sophia's mother, whether or not biology had shit to do with anything. "Ain't got too damn much for ya ta do…an' I don't reckon ain't no damn body else gonna show they ugly ass mug."
Sophia shrugged.
"I'd have come in anyway," she said.
Daryl sighed and finished his cigarette, dropping it on the floor and snubbing it out with the side of his shoe so that it lie there, furthering the mess.
"Well if ya wanta earn ya hours…" Daryl said, glancing around, "then get'cha scrawny ass ta work."
Sophia snubbed her own cigarette out and stood up.
"What's on the agenda?" She asked.
Daryl nipped at his thumb and looked around.
"Untape that car that's in the booth first off," Daryl said. "Sweep the damn floor…"
He paused. Sophia was standing there, taking everything he said very seriously, her hands shoved down in the pockets of her pants now. He snickered at her and shook his head.
"An' get me that damn purple paint sample ya was talkin' 'bout," Daryl said. "Wanta see what if that shit's Hot Rod worthy."
Sophia smiled broadly at him, the kind of smile where you could see every damn tooth that someone had in their head and half their gums.
"I'm on it!" She said, trotting off toward the paint booth without so much as another word. Daryl sighed and went back to working on the door.
It looked like one damn way or another the kid was going to shoulder him into being the proud…although probably temporary…owner of a shiny purple coupe. And if she had her way…she may very well shoulder him into giving up the ghost and maybe calling on Carol to see what the hell she thought about him…if she thought any damn thing at all.