Old
friends,
Memory brushes the same years.
Silently sharing the same fear....
- "Old Friends," Simon and Garfunkel
Strangely enough, though I should be panicking right about now, all I can think of is how absurdly funny Enrique's expression is.
"A girl," he repeats for the umpteenth time. Apparently, the message still hasn't sunk in. "You're a girl. Oliver, how can you be a girl?" He sounds so plaintive.
"Not Oliver," I correct him gently. "Olivia. My name is Olivia."
Really, of all the Majestics, he's the one who should have figured it out by now.
----------
The sun is shining, the birds are sing-- okay, the seagulls are squawking and attacking everything edible. The sea is calm and sparkling blue and I'm miserable as can be.
"Dude! What's with the funky swimsuit?"
What was I supposed to do, go in swimming trunks and send all my teammates (and myself) to an early grave? Go in a girl's swimsuit, with possibly the same result? Stay in McGregor Castle when they knew I was most definitely not sick?
"Since I dislike the beach in the first place, be glad I decided to come at all. Your taste in swimwear is far from exemplary, Giancarlo." True enough. Little dancing purple penguins are hardly to my taste, though they are quite amusing.
"No need to get your boxers in a wad…" His eyes rove over me, and I resist the urge to squirm. "In that surf suit you could almost pass for a girl!" And he laughs, blowing it all off as a big joke.
Inside, I'm about ready to have a heart attack. But before I can begin sputtering denial, he's thankfully distracted by his current horde of scantily-clad girlfriends.
"Enrique-poo, you promised you'd show us your new yacht today!" one squeals.
"Enrique-poo, let's get wet already!"
"Enrique-poo, wait for me!"
"Enrique-poo~!"
Eurgh. Pass me that bucket. I think I'll need it soon.
----------
"Aww, c'mon Olli! It's not gonna be that bad!"
I stand my ground, hands fisted at my hips like some angry angel of doom. Glaring for all I'm worth must be quite a sight, because my Italian friend hasn't looked this cowed since Johnny cornered him with a pike maybe seven, eight months back.
Before I can start chuckling at the memory and lose the mood, I snap, "What possessed you to volunteer sharing my room in the first place? There's! Only! One! Bed!"
"I told you, this place was packed!"
"Johnny and Robert could have shared!"
"Do you see Johnny willing to relinquish his room to anyone?"
"…I see you point. Fine."
"It's not like I kick in my sleep."
"You'd better hope not, or I'm planting you headfirst in the toilet."
"Now you're hurting my feelings! What happened to the nice polite guy I know?" And then he throws a comradely arm around my shoulders and pauses. "What's this? Olli, there's bandages on your shoulder. What happened?"
Oh, shit. Another slip.
It's probably a bad sign that I can lie with a perfect poker face. Used to be I was always caught. "Just a little accident in the kitchen last week. Nearly killed one of the other cooks, too. Nothing serious."
"If it nearly killed someone, how can it not be serious? Yeesh, you really should tell us when these things happen."
"Come off it. There's no reason to."
He still doesn't look too convinced. I make it a point to leave the room at the next opportunity. And later that night, though he does snore, all I can do is lie there and be grateful that he keeps to his side of the bed.
----------
"Another little wannabe trying to Beyblade? It never ends!" Johnny's raucous laughter fills the living room. I glance up at the screen from reading my novel.
"What's wrong with her? She's quite good." And the girl on the screen is – her launch is practically perfect and she's gotten up a decent initial offense. But Robert and Johnny don't quite seem to see this.
"Quite good? Just look at that preposterous performance! She is not fit to be in that stadium!"
It's me all over again, I realize with faint horror, as my teammates mock her. I watch the pixelated figure on the screen as it zooms in, the beaded sweat, the determined eyes, the mouth set in a hard grim line. If it was me on that screen, Olivia, not Oliver, I would be mocked as well, no matter how skilled I proved myself to be.
That's the way the world is, but I don't have to take it in my own living room.
"Look, just because she's female is no reason to be biased." Stay polite, Olivia. Stay calm.
The girl's Blade wobbles to a stop as I watch, her bulky opponent laughing in triumph.
"You see?" Robert presses his point home. "Females are not fit to handle Blades and Bitbeasts."
"Oh? And what about Mariah and Emily, hm? They made it all the way to the Championships."
"Backed by men, of course!"
The defeated girl on the screen's eyes fill with tears. I mutter something very rude, causing a blue gaze under a thoughtful frown to be directed my way. Enrique regards me over his own book, and I blush hotly. Of course he understood what I was saying.
----------
"Please promise me you won't tell."
His brows are lowered in that same thoughtful frown again, which means he's probably recalling those same incidents. Or at least a number of smaller related ones, but those three are the most glaring. Thinking about it now, it seems most of my slipups were made with him present. Wonderful.
At least now I'll know how he does react to this sort of thing. No rants and raves like Johnny, no cold silent fury like Robert. This is actually…not so bad. He's taken it surprisingly well, considering I'd probably be screaming obscenities were the roles reversed.
"Of course!" He smiles, disarming. "Though this is actually kind of funny. I mean, what would everyone say if you told them?"
I flash him a cold look. "Doubtless I would be thrown out of the team and disgraced, to say the least."
His smile blooms into a full-fledged toothy grin. "You know, you're more like Johnny and Rob than you think…Olivia." He pronounces the name like he's trying it out for the first time and liking what he hears. "You worry too much about what others think, in the wrong ways."
Just what is he implying?
"But I swear I won't tell if it means this much." He makes a curious – and familiar – sign with the fingers of both hands. "Swear on the Legendaries."
It's the sign we used to make when we were younger, for the keeping of important promises. I'm surprised to find he still remembers it. The bubble of anxiety in my stomach turns into one of sheer exhilarated relief, and I find myself hugging him hard. "Thank you, Enrique. Thank you so much."
His arms encircle me, lightly, a little awkwardly. "Anytime."
Maybe I will survive after all.
----------
"Oh, man, this is classic!"
It turned out that Kai and Emily's relationship wasn't the only thing discussed on the tape. So was Max and Mariah's, involving skimpy bathing suits and much abuse of the camera, bringing in a "Max steals Rei's girl" issue, and all three involved teens denying it hotly on screen. Too painful to keep your eyes on for long, in other words.
One other – particularly entertaining – video involved Tyson Kinomiya singing karaoke atop a table in a bar, obviously drunk. Hillary and Kenny had ended up dragging him out, at which point Gretta's polite slight sneer was once more on the screen.
Johnny had seen it all the night before, so he turned away from the discussion of Japan's drinking age limits (If you can reach the counter, you can get sake) to study his teammates' reactions. Robert was stony as ever, Enrique was…laughing his head off as Tyson's off-key voice continued to warble from the screen.
But why did Oliver look so worried? He made a mental note to ask sometime later, and promptly forgot about it.
Behind him, the laughter ceased as Enrique met Olivia's apprehensive stare.
"Bets on us being his next target," she sighed.
~-~-~-~-~
Bad Boy Blader: well, now I'd like to tell you guys a little about myself, the newest muse of... *hears munching* Hunh, what was that--? Nevermind, well first thing is that I really love Beyblade and... *munching sound again*
What is that noise!? As I said, I really love Beyblade fics, and I am glad to work with such good muses and a good writer. I hope we can bring many fics to come- *munching sound gets really loud*
THAT'S IT! Where is that sound coming from? *walks off soapbox, behind the stage* What is that noise... *sees other muses eating his Pocky*
Jorntil: *waves a paw* Hey! BBB! Look at all this Pocky we found!
*BBB faints*
Jiaan: BBB well what do you think of-- Hey! Are you all right? Someone call an ambulance!
Maroku: *looks over lazily* Nah. I think he just needs some Pocky.
Drac's notes: This was a bit of a filler chappie, yanno. BBB provided the info about Japan's drinking age limits. I hope it's true for the fic's sake, and false for Japan's sake—SAKE, not sa-ke. Fourth chapter is being worked on as you read this, don't worry! ^_^v And it was long! LONG! *works the kinks out of her fingers* I really need to cut down on the flashbacks!
bimbo-blonde – Well, here's Enrique's reaction for ya! XD Kkornelia - *Snicker* No it's not hard to believe…glad you like the fic so far! flaming pineapple – Well, here ya go. I'll try not to be so lazy with the next one. The-Dark-Fire-Elf – Sankuu for the compliments, nei! zerikyo –Our pleasure! Hex – Because I, Drac, am a lazy writer who BBB has to constantly kick in the arse (meaning: motivate), it's better to check back every once a week or so. ^^; But I'll update! I will! Riyao Machrine – I know, cliffhangers are absolutely evil, but I try to keep them to a minimum, yanno? BBB and I just couldn't help ourselves that time around. kurokioku - *grabshake* No! Don't die! You must keep reading! YOU MUST! *blasts away all the reviewers* …Whoopsie.
