Look I updated again! I'm getting very proud of my near-daily updating. We'll pretend it's not because I don't have anything else to do at night (sleeping is not an option, oh no). By the way, I don't know if y'all have noticed this, but the only time Matthew really talks is to make fun of Snitch. I have no idea why. Poor Snitch! I'll have to work on that. Casa Garcia is this great little Mexican restaurant by my house, and the song I got from this website of Irish songs: Irish songs are so great! Irish everything is great! Oh, (grins proudly) I dropped a clue from the movie as to who Matthew is. (Grin fades) OK, it's kind of not very obvious, but still...
WELL I'VE BEEN TRYING TO DRAW A LINE HERE BUT IT WON'T UPLOAD WITH THE TEXT SO I'M SEPARATING MY OPENING FROM THE FIC WITH TEXT
The next day was Monday, and, as excited as Snitch was about his date that night, we still had work to do. Fortunately for him, Tanner was gone, so Snitch was free to babble on and on, gushing about how wonderful Chance was and speculating on the date. Unfortunately for Matthew and I, Tanner was gone, so Snitch was free to babble on and on, gushing about how wonderful Chance was and speculating on the date. "...an' den, I asked 'er if she wanted to go out sometime, an' she kinda smiled a little bit an' said, 'sure,' an' she looked down, like she was maybe embarrassed or sumtin', den she looked back up at me real fast" – here Snitch offered his version of a bashful female, causing Mathew to go into silent convulsions – "an' den I said," – now he assumed a suave, masculine posture – "'How 'bout lunch today?', only she—"
Matthew finally let out a real laugh, causing Snitch to turn around. "Oh, is that how it went, Snitch?" Matthew rose, and the eager, excited look he gave was vastly different from Snitch's nonchalant pose (A/N: wow, I didn't think I could say "he acted like this" in so many different ways!) "Really? I mean, really? You wanna go out wit' me? I mean, not dat I didn't t'ink you would – well, I wasn't dat sure you would, but, well, um...really?"
Snitch glared at him. "Who's tellin' dis story, you or me? I gotta finish telling ole Spectacles over here what happened." Since I had already heard the story four times today – and it was only 9:40 – I was pretty sure that this interruption wasn't going to do me much harm, and said as much. Snitch switched his glare over to me for about two seconds before launching into the other much-abused topic of the morning. "I hope da date goes OK. What if she don't like where I take 'er? Or what if," he swallowed sharply, "what if she don't like me? Or she don't 'ave fun?"
I rolled my eyes. "Snitch, she agreed to go out with you – God knows why – " this earned me yet another patented Snitch glare, "so she must like you at least a little, right?"
"Yea, but dat don't mean dat she'll keep likin' me tonight."
"Snitch," I got up, still holding the red-hot tongs in my hand, "if you say one more thing about Chance or the date, I'll brand you with these tongs." I sat back down. "Don't worry about it. It'll be fine."
Two whole minutes passed by in silence before Snitch exploded, "Specs, how come you ain't nervous?" Now, this wasn't exactly true, but since I tended not to babble on and on like Snitch – and since I hadn't managed to say anything all morning except to reassure him – he couldn't tell. There was no way he could know that I had a little fluttering in my stomach, or that the same questions that I had fallen asleep to kept running through my mind. 'What is Chance's friend like? Is she pretty? Will she like me?'
"I dunno, Snitch, I'm just not. I guess I'm just used to having girls fawn all over me," I deadpanned. Snitch stared, but Matthew guffawed. After a while, Snitch joined in. I grinned reluctantly. "Hey, you didn't have to laugh quite so hard, you know. Look, would you please calm down? It'll be fine. I'll be right there with you, and if it turns out to be awful, we can just struggle through it, lie about it, and make jokes about it later."
We got through the rest of the day without mention of Chance. Haha, you believed it for a second didn't you? Nope, the only respite we got was when we would threaten Snitch with bodily harm, and even then the break wasn't long. "Even I can't wait till this date, jus' to stop Snitch talkin' 'bout it," Matthew groaned after he had gone so far as to tie and gag Snitch.
Unfortunately, he had to be released, because he kept rolling around on the floor, knocking things over and tripping us. And, the second he was up, he said, "What if I get on her nerves by talkin' too much?"
Finally, we finished work for the day, Tanner came back and grunted over our metal (A/N: I'm starting to feel really stupid when I write about blacksmith stuff. All I can think of for them to make is nails and horseshoes!), and we were free to go. Matthew lounged on his bed, watching in amusement as Snitch and I washed up and changed. "Snitch, you don't hafta look like yer goin' to a funeral, you know," he laughed.
"Yea, yea, jus' hand me da towel."
"I should start chargin' fer dis," he muttered as he reached above his bed for it. Finally, we were ready. "G'luck," Matthew called out as we left.
"I'm gonna need it," Snitch moaned.
"You know, Matthew's right," I said, as cheerfully as I could with butterflies performing complicated aerobatics in my stomach, "you look like somebody's died. Chance is going to think you're not happy to see her."
"You can talk, you don't got nuttin' to worry 'bout"
"Well, at least you know that Chance is pretty, nice, and likes you enough to go on a date with you. I mean, her friend could be..." I trailed off as the girls approached. "We're meeting them here? Now? In front of the shop?" I whispered fiercely. Snitch didn't answer, but he didn't really have to as the answer was fairly obvious.
Chance was walking in front, so I didn't have a very good view of her friend, but, from what I could tell, she wasn't too bad. "Heya, Chance!" Snitch called out. She smiled in reply. "Ready to go?" he asked as they reached us.
"Sure," Chance said, just as nervously as Snitch, I noticed. Then, "Oh!" She turned to me, "You must be Thomas."
"Oh, it's Specs now," Snitch interjected, smirking at me. I scowled, but quickly rearranged it to a smile.
"Dis is my friend, Maria," Chance said, dragging her forward, and I was met with the warmest pair of chocolate-brown eyes I had ever seen. I stared at them for a short moment before greeting her, but I don't think she noticed, as she smiled a shy "hey" in response.
"Well, let's go," said Snitch, as he led the way to the restaurant. We stayed in a close group on the way there, not really comfortable enough to separate as couples. It was just easier that way; Snitch and I kept bouncing jokes off of each other, and Maria and Chance turned to each other for confirmation in stories. Eventually, Chance and Snitch took over the conversation, for which I was grateful. I'm much better at one-on-one then in groups, anyway, at least until I'm comfortable, and I think Maria was shy. I kept sneaking sideways glances at Maria, that is, until I caught her doing the same to me. We both blushed and stared straight ahead. Even from those few peeks, I was satisfied that I was walking next to the most beautiful girl in all of New York. She was dark-skinned – obviously Spanish – with soft, shiny black hair that swung to just the right length. She had curves in all the right places, and rosy lips that were just begging to be kissed. Especially when she smiled secretly to herself, like she was doing now. Now? Wait, I was staring at her again!
"Um," I cleared my throat, "where do you work, Maria?"
"In my family's restaurant," she replied in a strong Spanish accent.
"Oh. I work at the blacksmith's"
She smiled at me. "I know"
"Oh. Right." Of course she knew! She had met us in front of the shop. Stupid, stupid, stupid – oh, we're here.
I grabbed the door and held it open for Chance and Maria. Chance raised her eyebrows. "Well, Maria, it looks like you've got quite the gentleman." Maria smiled at me in thanks as she walked through the door.
I grabbed Snitch before he could walk through. "God, she's gorgeous."
Snitch smiled dreamily, "I know."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Not Chance. Maria."
Snitch looked over at the girls as we walked behind them to the table. "Yea, she's pretty, I guess. Still, she's got nothing on Chance." This time, I didn't even fight the eye roll. Really, that boy couldn't recognize beauty when he saw it.
Dinner was fairly uneventful, for me at least. Like I said, I don't do to well with new groups, so I didn't talk very much. I just smiled at Maria a lot over my food as Chance and Snitch chattered away happily, and I was glad to see that she smiled back just as much. After dinner, Chance suggested a stroll through Central Park, an idea to which Snitch quickly agreed. This time, as we walked, Chance and Snitch separated from Maria and I, eventually losing us completely. I didn't mind – I liked walking next to Maria in silence. She was close enough to occasionally brush against me, and I could feel the tempo of her walk mingled with my longer strides. I could have continued like that all night, but I felt pressure to say something, anything, just to let her know that I was still there.
She shivered, giving me an opening. "Cold?" I asked.
"A little," she replied, but before the words were even out of her mouth, I was handing her my jacket. She took it, looking startled, and said, "But won't you be cold?" I shrugged, then shook my head. She smiled suddenly – a real smile, dimples and all, instead of the sweet, shy ones that she had been giving me all night. I was so caught up in trying to decide which kind I liked better, I almost missed what she said next. "You really are a gentleman, aren't you?"
Surprised, I said "No. Not really. I mean, any other guy would have done the same."
"Maybe where you're from, but not here. Not in New York."
"Oh," I responded intelligently, at a loss for words.
"It's a nice change," she continued.
I started to say "Oh" again, then changed my mind, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. "North Carolina."
"What?" she asked, startled.
"That's where I'm from. A little town in North Carolina. Down South."
"Specs," she hesitated, "is it very different there? Where do you like better?"
"I don't know," I responded thoughtfully. "Yea, I guess. It's...slower there. And quieter. Less exciting, that's for sure, but still, there's something about it. Peaceful, I guess that's it. Boring, sometimes, but peaceful." I looked over at her. "What about you? What's it like where you're from?"
"Well," she said, dragging the word out. Then she gave me another one of her million-dollar smiles, "boring, but peaceful."
"Hey, that's cheating," I said, pretending to be stern.
"I know," she laughed, "but you really nailed it. I come from a small village in Spain, and there's just less going on than there is here."
I nodded, "So, why did you leave?"
Maria paused, and, too late I remembered what Snitch had said about the hard lives of street kids, remembered Matthew's history. Then she continued easily, and I sighed in relief. "We just...there was nothing left for us there. We lived well, but not so well. My father was a farmer, and we got by, but there was never more than enough, and that worried him. So, he took a boat over here when I was seven, and by the time I was nine, we were here. In America. It was hard to learn the language, but when you are so young, you adapt well. So, now you see me, six years later, speaking English like a native. If only not for this accent."
"I like your accent," I said. "It's like a sunset on rolling hills." I was talking nonsense now, and I knew it, but this girl just brought that out in me. I was worried that she would think I was ridiculous, but, to my surprise, she laughed softly.
"If my accent is a sunset on rolling hills, yours is a still forest with the sun shining through."
I laughed, too. "Now we're both talking nonsense," I said out loud.
She made a face. "Yes, I suppose we are. Oh, well, it was bound to happen eventually. Something about the moonlight, I suppose."
"Yes, well, speaking of moonlight, that means it nighttime, which, sadly, also means good night," I said. "I have work tomorrow, and I'm sure your family doesn't want you out too late. Come on, I'll walk you home."
Our conversation on the walk to Maria's house was slightly more rational than the one we had just had. Actually, there was nothing remarkable about it, but I felt like I was floating the whole time. Especially when our hands caught, and, although we both blushed a little – she looked so pretty when she blushed – we didn't let go. When we reached her apartment, which was built above her family's restaurant, six blocks over and three down from the blacksmith's, we stopped to say goodnight. I looked at her, and I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her soft, wavy hair and hold her close. I was pretty sure that she wouldn't mind. Instead, I dropped her hand and said, "Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight, Specs," she replied. She smiled that small, secret smile of hers and, standing on tiptoe, kissed me on the cheek. Then she hurried inside without looking back at me.
I stood there for a few moments longer, under the sign that announced "Casa Garcia's authentic Spanish cuisine." As I walked away, I began to whistle, then to sing. "I'll give you a daisy a day dear/I'll give you a daisy a day/I'll love you until the rivers run still/And the four winds we know blow away.
When I got back to the blacksmith's, Snitch was still out. I undressed for bed, trying not to wake Matthew, but, as I slid under the covers, he asked, "How was it?"
I grinned into the dark. "Perfect."
OH DEAR IT'S ANOTHER LINE OF TEXT. HAHA WATCH THIS NOT WORK AT ALL AND JUST LOOK STUPID ON THE SITE OH WELL I'M NOT CHANGING IT.
(singing) Five reviews, five reviews, five reviews! I just love reviews/and I thank all of you/just for making me smile/I'll update in a little while (there's a reason I'm not a songwriter, OK)
Artist: Thanks for the review...and the compliment (I love those as much as reviews!) I haven't read Holes in a while (and I never saw the movie, although I love Shia) but if Zero is the quiet one who escapes with, um, the main character, then I guess he is like Matthew.
Daydream: The only part of NC that I really visit, like, more than once, is the Asheville area. I got to camp in Brevard...Camp Kahdalea. It's just the best place in the world!! OK, I'm calm now. But, otherwise, I don't know my NC geography that well. Of course, I'm limited on the LA geography, too, so... And "cardboard cut-out newsies" is a funny thought...and yet, a wonderful one. I wonder where you can get those?
Smartass: Glad you like Matthew. I'm becoming more and more attached to him myself. I have a friend who lives near the Atlantic in NC, and she goes surfing all the time. Tres jealous I am. I need to stop pretending I can speak French. Anyway, that is so cool that you live in New York. Between you and Daydream, I'm gonna go mad with envy. And I can't wait to play on the rainbow. I'm making up a rainbow song and dance number right now.
Koodles: Hey, I just emailed you! Haha! So I already answered your review. Oh well, there's always room for another shout-out. Here's a hug (hands you a hug). Enjoy!
Mydela: Thanks for the review. You will be finding out about Matthew soon. Or not. I have no idea how much longer this is going to go on. I wouldn't have even guessed this long at first. But I do already have Micheal's nicknaming ceremony typed up (OK, so it's not a ceremony...it should be. Can you imagine Jack or someone with a sword: "I hereby dub thee "?