A/N: Hah! You're back! I knew it, knew it, knew it…well, I was hoping
fervently…you say to-may-to, I say to-ma-toh, right? ( I was actually going
to skip and update this week, but I was checking my statistics and I really
one more person put me on their fav list! Hahaha oh yeah! Livin' large!
Newayz, I figure I must earn my place there, and I'm trying to prove that
I'm worthy of being on that coveted list, so here it is…thanx again to
whoever put me on that list-it won't tell me who. It got me off my lazy
butt (I think it's some kind of illness-perhaps lazy-I-tis?). Alright,
enjoy! Oh yeah, plz read the whole chapter even if you don't like a certain
– ahem – part.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I thought you said the park was local…"Rory panted as she urged her sore legs further.
"It is. In a one-mile-from-starting-point kind of way."
A gust of warm wind blew by, fluffing Rory's skirt out. She irritably pushed it down. It seemed that the girls at Latournelle's Academic Institution considered any weather not involving rain a sign from God that they should wear short skirts. Two blocks later, the girls finally came to a halt. Unprepared for the sudden stop, Rory ran into the trio.
"Voila! You like?" Tyra mused.
Rory replied in a hushed voice, "It's like the Secret Garden."
They pulled her into the fragrant landscape, chattering on amicably.
"Boo!"
"GAH!" Shrieking loudly, the girls flew in every direction.
As the quartet dispersed, Rory lost her balance, tipping precariously on the edge of the bridge-like path. A trickling brook was pouring down right under it. From the corner of her eyes, Rory caught sight of a gray blur streaking towards her. He caught her just as she lost her grip.
"I never knew you Americans loved the water so," he murmured.
Looking up into the stormy gray eyes of her savior, she lost capability to speak.
"Nicholas?" Tyra asked faintly from her place behind a rose bush. Catching sight of them, she hit him with her bag.
"Ow," he whined, rubbing his arm pitifully.
"You scared me half to death!" She boomed.
"Well then I'm half done with my major goal in life," he retorted.
She burned red angrily and he turned to Rory again. In a charismatic bow, he greeted her formally. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle. Mon nom est Nicholas. Et toi?"
Realizing he was speaking to her again, she shook herself into recalling the past four years of French she'd taken. "Je m'appelle Rory Gilmore."
"Enchanter, Rory Gilmore."
Suddenly it dawned on her. "How did you know I'm from America?"
"Oh, zat. Ze girls have been talking about the new exchange student for days!"
"Oh. I see."
By now the group had reformed and he was leading them through a maze of flowers. "Hurry. Everyone is waiting to meet you." Shooting her an appraising look, he added, "and I'm sure they won't be disappointed."
Rory flushed crimson and followed the rest mutely. They soon reached a clearing where a group of young men were huddled in a circle on an oversized picnic blanket. They all turned to greet the newcomers. Rory hesitated at the edge, but after an eager beckoning from the guys advanced forward and perched on the edge of the blanket. She tried to formulate a cordial greeting, but…
THUMP! Landing unceremoniously into a heap by her feet, the little boy grinned maniacally at her.
Forgetting her previous intentions, Rory changed her path of thinking. "Charlie? What are you doing here?"
Charlie looked up at her mischievously. "I'm hear with my dear cousin. You might happen to know him. He's a transfer student from America as well."
"I don't think that…" Then it hit her. Those electric blue eyes, that curiously bright hue. She'd only seen them on one other person. Cousins-but it couldn't be!
Oblivious to the rampant thoughts going on in Rory's head, Charlie pointed into the distance where they could make out a tall figure approaching them. "Look, he's coming this way now."
Tightly shutting her eyes, Rory willed the scene away. This was some twisted joke they were playing with her, and any moment they'd all break out laughing…any minute now.
"Salut! Comment vous appellez vous?" Lilted a familiar, musical voice.
Her eyes snapped open of their own will, but she didn't turn around. Sooner or later she'd have to accept the inevitable. Carpe diem, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
A/N: I've laced up my running shoes and I'm all warmed up for a nice five- mile run from fanfic readers intent on my death. Aha! Think of it this way. If you kill me now, you'll never get another installment to this story. Muhahah So, I'm thinking of posting some time next weekend. BUT (this is an indication of me trying pitifully to offer you guys a bargain) if ten reviews happen to land in my review box, the next chapter might magically appear a couple of days early. Evil, you say? I know of no evil…What is this evil you speak of? ^_^ Au revoir!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I thought you said the park was local…"Rory panted as she urged her sore legs further.
"It is. In a one-mile-from-starting-point kind of way."
A gust of warm wind blew by, fluffing Rory's skirt out. She irritably pushed it down. It seemed that the girls at Latournelle's Academic Institution considered any weather not involving rain a sign from God that they should wear short skirts. Two blocks later, the girls finally came to a halt. Unprepared for the sudden stop, Rory ran into the trio.
"Voila! You like?" Tyra mused.
Rory replied in a hushed voice, "It's like the Secret Garden."
They pulled her into the fragrant landscape, chattering on amicably.
"Boo!"
"GAH!" Shrieking loudly, the girls flew in every direction.
As the quartet dispersed, Rory lost her balance, tipping precariously on the edge of the bridge-like path. A trickling brook was pouring down right under it. From the corner of her eyes, Rory caught sight of a gray blur streaking towards her. He caught her just as she lost her grip.
"I never knew you Americans loved the water so," he murmured.
Looking up into the stormy gray eyes of her savior, she lost capability to speak.
"Nicholas?" Tyra asked faintly from her place behind a rose bush. Catching sight of them, she hit him with her bag.
"Ow," he whined, rubbing his arm pitifully.
"You scared me half to death!" She boomed.
"Well then I'm half done with my major goal in life," he retorted.
She burned red angrily and he turned to Rory again. In a charismatic bow, he greeted her formally. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle. Mon nom est Nicholas. Et toi?"
Realizing he was speaking to her again, she shook herself into recalling the past four years of French she'd taken. "Je m'appelle Rory Gilmore."
"Enchanter, Rory Gilmore."
Suddenly it dawned on her. "How did you know I'm from America?"
"Oh, zat. Ze girls have been talking about the new exchange student for days!"
"Oh. I see."
By now the group had reformed and he was leading them through a maze of flowers. "Hurry. Everyone is waiting to meet you." Shooting her an appraising look, he added, "and I'm sure they won't be disappointed."
Rory flushed crimson and followed the rest mutely. They soon reached a clearing where a group of young men were huddled in a circle on an oversized picnic blanket. They all turned to greet the newcomers. Rory hesitated at the edge, but after an eager beckoning from the guys advanced forward and perched on the edge of the blanket. She tried to formulate a cordial greeting, but…
THUMP! Landing unceremoniously into a heap by her feet, the little boy grinned maniacally at her.
Forgetting her previous intentions, Rory changed her path of thinking. "Charlie? What are you doing here?"
Charlie looked up at her mischievously. "I'm hear with my dear cousin. You might happen to know him. He's a transfer student from America as well."
"I don't think that…" Then it hit her. Those electric blue eyes, that curiously bright hue. She'd only seen them on one other person. Cousins-but it couldn't be!
Oblivious to the rampant thoughts going on in Rory's head, Charlie pointed into the distance where they could make out a tall figure approaching them. "Look, he's coming this way now."
Tightly shutting her eyes, Rory willed the scene away. This was some twisted joke they were playing with her, and any moment they'd all break out laughing…any minute now.
"Salut! Comment vous appellez vous?" Lilted a familiar, musical voice.
Her eyes snapped open of their own will, but she didn't turn around. Sooner or later she'd have to accept the inevitable. Carpe diem, right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
A/N: I've laced up my running shoes and I'm all warmed up for a nice five- mile run from fanfic readers intent on my death. Aha! Think of it this way. If you kill me now, you'll never get another installment to this story. Muhahah So, I'm thinking of posting some time next weekend. BUT (this is an indication of me trying pitifully to offer you guys a bargain) if ten reviews happen to land in my review box, the next chapter might magically appear a couple of days early. Evil, you say? I know of no evil…What is this evil you speak of? ^_^ Au revoir!