Disclaimer: I still don't own Hey! Arnold. Isn't that tragic? I thought so. Hope you've been enjoying Apple Circus so far. By the way, sorry for my delay – I got back from glorious tri-fecta that is Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont a few days ago, and while the journey there and back was a little less than desired, the trip itself was wonderful. And I think it got my creative mojo back on track.
HA
Martin and Tobias were alone this time as the old truck rumbled down the path and into the Circus lot. The noon sun high in the sky robbed the performers and hands of the magic they wore the previous night, turning them into average everyday people. Tobias parked by the other cars and trucks that belonged to the workers, and he and his younger brother made their way through the throngs of people.
They felt lost in the daylight.
Nothing was the same.
Someone bumped into Martin, and as he apologized, two voices told him it was alright. Spinning on their heels, the Gammelthorpe boys at first thought that the women were twins – that wasn't unusual, they were younger brothers to a set of twins after all. But as the eyes traveled down, the women stood closer and closer until they literally joined at the hip, sharing the same pair of shapely legs. Martin's jaw dropped while Tobias's eyes grew as large as dinner plates.
"HOLY SHI-!" the older brother started before his sibling slapped a hand over his mouth. The sisters – for even if they weren't conjoined it would be obvious to tell – smiled with amusement while wrapping delicate arms around one another.
"Yeah, we get -"
"- that a lot. I'm Abigail and this is -"
"- Evelyn. We're sisters, in case you -"
"- couldn't tell." At the blank stares of the men before them, the pair laughed fashionably, and Abigail – or was it Evelyn? – waved over her sister's shoulder at another performer neither boy noticed. The spell was only broken when soft hands took a gentle hold of them, the sisters smirking with impish joy.
"Hey Evelyn, Abigail, you two better head over to the Mess Tent before Lottie and Dinah eat everything." Meilin's firm voice came from between the brothers, and the pair looked at her in amazement. Where had she come from? The sisters laughed again, before waving absentmindedly as they began walking away with a skill only attained after years of practice.
"Alright, see you-"
"- later Meilin. It was nice -"
"- meeting you Tobias -"
"- Martin. See you -"
"- around."
Meilin allowed the pair to stare blatantly at the swaying hips of the sisters, before pinching Tobias on the shoulder harshly. He whined as Martin laughed, but Meilin ignored the younger brother.
"Tobias, Dinah is waiting for you at the Mess Tent; it's the orange one with the red flag. Just follow Evie and Abby – trust me, they're a hard pair to lose." Tobias sent her an odd look, before nodding and following after the conjoined twins with dazed attention. Martin turned to Meilin with a goofy smile, completely forgetting that she was dating the resident asshole. What he found was the impish grin of a Chinese acrobat with a secret. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not.
"Have you eaten yet?" she asked casually, and he gave her a hard look, still trying to decipher that look.
"No, why?" that little sneak allowed her grin to morph into a smirk before she leaned back slightly and crossed her arms. The motion was so smooth, he only barely caught it and so had to chalk it up to her career training.
"That's good, 'cause one of the pee-ons in the menagerie found himself in some hot water last night, and I said I'd muck out the Giraffe stall. And you just volunteered to help."
Her laugh was odd. In no way delicate, or lady like; although it wasn't boisterous and grating like his Aunt Kathy – she was a sensitive topic for his Grandma, being as masculine as she was. It was still feminine, and held this cackle sound that was almost foreign. A bullhorn rather than a bell, his mother would have said.
But it was definitely good-natured – mostly.
And it was definitely directed at the forlorn look on his face.
Meilin only cackled once more and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him towards that same tent they visited last night; and while the sun had bleached out most of the awe, it was still magnificent to behold. Not ten minutes later, Martin found himself almost sick to his stomach and understanding why Meilin had said it was good he hadn't eaten. Wave after wave of Odure` de la Crappe` practically raped his nose as he shoveled and wheeled the mud pies into an outside area Meilin had showed him.
He had to admit, it was smart of D.W. Holmes to sell the waste to the local farmers of wherever the Circus happened to stop. Although growing up on a farm, Martin had never actually had to muck out stalls of crap – his family technically owned an apple orchard, and there were no defecating noise makers he had to care for. Granted, his Aunt Kathy – the same one with too much testosterone in her system – ran a cattle farm up by the American-Canadian border which they often visited, he had so many older brothers that by the time he came around Kathy had learned not to let her nephews do anything even remotely related to the cows. And then when Tess showed up, oh God . . .
It's a wonder the Gammelthorpe children are even allowed within Toole County.
"OW!" the pain-filled cry cut through his thoughts as Martin quickly grabbed for the back of his head, dropping the pitchfork and half a load of a giraffe's load with it. He whipped his eyes to Meilin, who was grinning but to her credit had the decency to look a little bit guilty.
"What was that for?" he whined, and she allowed a small chuckle to escape her lips before composing herself once more.
"Sorry Martin, but you had a big ol' black fly about ready to make love to your head."
It was then he realized just how many flies were swarming around his hair. Swatting them peevishly and only half blindly, he growled at not landing a single hit.
"Why the hell don't they land?" he asked more himself than her, but Meilin felt her answer deserved to be heard – whether the question was directed at her or not.
"Because they know you'll try to kill them. They're dive bombers, not Kamikazes, you moron." She joked, and the statement was just odd enough to make sense – and enough to momentarily still Martin's swats. She laughed again, this time at his frozen posture, then muttered something in Chinese. Having no idea what she said but breaking free from his absurd pause, Martin smiled and went back to shoveling, when another cry echoed through the tent. This one, though, wasn't his.
"Tippy! AI-YA!"
And then his world went black.
~O~
Blurry, grey, and misshapen.
That was the world Martin woke up to; his eyes were out of focus badly, and his head hurt like a mother. Groaning without realizing it, he reached for the back of his head while sitting up, and all at once felt woozy and pained again. Someone had slapped his hand.
Hissing with the sting and another groan, he blinked rapidly until his vision cleared, and found Meilin's worried and embarrassed gaze.
"Martin, are you ok? Shit, I hope Tippy didn't give you a concussion. Here, how many fingers am I holding up?" a voice, Meilin's without a doubt, accompanied the three fingers that waved slowly in front of his nose. He groaned them away with a weak slap, before taking her hand and sitting up with a wince.
"Three." She laughed, holding his grip firmly and easing him onto his feet.
"Well, I guess you get the toaster then."
He looked at her in confusion, but she only smiled again and led him out of the tent carefully, through the lot and toward that old beat up truck.
"Never mind, let's get you home."
"Wha-what happened?" she laughed again while reaching into his back pocket to fish out the keys. The ring held only two objects: an old ford key and a keychain. That was funny, she liked lighthouses too.
"Tippy; sweet ol' elephant really, although a bit hard of hearing lately. She heard me speak Chinese, and thought it was a command from part of her act. Stuck her hind leg out and THAWACK! Down you went. So you see, I better get you home before you start showing signs of a concussion – damn Circus rules and all, and – ah ah ah! I'm driving. Don't worry, I'll try to keep it under ninety, and all four wheels on the road." Commentary punctuated by a forceful shove into the passenger seat, Martin was amazed at how that small Chinese woman could get his field hand muscle up the eight inches and into the cab. But she did, and just as easily without even panting, hauled her own weight into the driver's seat, turning the ignition and smiling in delight as it roared. Well, roared about as much as a hoarse-throated lion.
Hauling ass was nowhere near the accurate term for how that old '52 ford pickup thundered out of the lot. Bat Out of Hell, would also fall short. Speed Demon too. Abducted by aliens was close, as was Vanished.
It's Evaporated, though, that seemed best.
Meilin cackled with delight as she shifted up three gears in order achieve maximum speed, and Martin suddenly made the connection between her drive statements, and the utter, horrid truth of them. Tires squealed as she ripped down the highway, no doubt leaving burn marks behind.
"RAMMING SPEED!" she shouted from the driver's window that was permanently fix in the down position, and then quickly turned her cornered eyes on him with what appeared to be a sudden thought.
"So where exactly do you live?" she asked casually, and Martin actually laughed before holding his head.
"Just stick on Owls Head Highway about ten miles or so. We're on a private road that's really more like our driveway, but it's hidden – don't worry, I'll guide you." He smiled, and then blindly reached for one of the door handles while his other hand gripped his stomach. In view of Meilin's nauseating driving, his mild concussion was forgotten.
~O~
"Cào…" the Chinese woman beside him muttered as she killed the engine, and he couldn't fight the smirk that slipped across his lips as he slid from the truck. "You live here?" her words were dripping with amazement at the sprawling apple trees sweeping across the acres. Martin simply nodded, glad to notice that he didn't feel nauseous – Tobias had seen more than his fair share of concussions, so the young Gammelthorpe knew the signs.
"Martin Julius Gammelthorpe! What have I told you about leaving your brother stranded!" a woman's voice erupted from the front door of the quaint little white farm house adjacent to the large red barn. Before he could even respond, the owner of the voice pushed her way onto the porch, hands fisted onto her hips and a smirk on her lips.
"But trading him in for a newer model? That I can forgive. What a bunch of boys I raised, bringing home pretty young girls and not even introducing them to your mother! Hello sweetie, I'm Rose Gammelthorpe, this one's birth-er." She introduced enthusiastically, rushing off the steps to grab Meilin's hand and shake it warmly.
"Good to meet you Mrs. Gammelthorpe, I'm Meilin, this one's assailant." Both women laughed, and Martin had a deep feeling it was at his expense. His head trauma was apparently forgotten.
"That's great; tell me Meilin, would you like something to drink?" Rose was always one to play host. Always.
"Cold milk in a mug if you don't mind." Both Martin and his mother looked at her oddly, before the performer shrugged with a smile.
"Family tradition. Water's fine too."
"Cold milk in a mug it is!" Rose announced, before turning her back on the pair, not catching the way her youngest son took hold of the girl's hand. Or maybe she just didn't want to catch it.
"I'm gonna show Meilin around, starting with the barn." He told his mother softly, not quite hearing his mother snort with anything but ladylike grace.
"Yes, I'll bet you are. I've seen my fair share of barns too, and have five children to show for it." She snorted again, and this time Martin did hear her as she moved up the steps of the porch.
"What was that Ma?" his curiosity was too innocent, and Rose didn't have the heart to embarrass her son in front of this pretty little Chinese girl.
Yet.
"Milk in the kitchen when you're ready!" Inertia slamming shut the screen door was her punctuation, and Martin could only shrug while Meilin blushed. Taking his hand, she was content to let her young escort lead her into the barn, awe in her voice as she asked about all the equipment stored within.
"Why does every barn have to have hay in it?" fingering the itchy produce, she caught his uneducated shrug from the corner of her eye.
"Unwritten rule, I think." She turned to him then, and laughed so hard she thought snot was going to come out her nose. He started laughing too, and soon neither of them could control it; laughing just for the sake and sound of it. Martin held his sides with both arms while Meilin had to lean against a wooden support beam, lest she fall over. And just as suddenly, he had taken her face and kissed her.
She shouldn't have, she really shouldn't. Not with Erik being the way he is, who she was and who Martin was. She knew this was probably the worst thing to do. But it just felt so damn good. He didn't kiss like Erik, always trying to get something from her, usually sex. It wasn't rough, or harsh, and he didn't bite.
He kissed her like he wanted to.
Without realizing what was happening, his hand found its way up her shirt and fondled her back. He didn't try to take her bra off, and didn't grope her breasts either – it was almost as if he just wanted to feel her skin. Her hands wound up around his neck and in his hair, his scalp hot and sweaty. A moan ripped from someone's mouth, although neither could tell which.
Maybe they had realized what was happening.
"Martin, Martin Martin Martin." Pulling her lips away from his almost by force, Meilin held his face in her hands and tried to steady her breathing. He looked at her, eyes hazy, but let her continue.
"We can't. I still belong to Erik. I'm sorry, but we can't. I'm sorry." She whispered, and he nodded, even though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him. Muttering that a few more times, she leaned forward and kissed him, slow and deep, before pulling away again.
This time Martin stepped away, straightening his close as he watched her do the same, before taking her hand and slowly leading her from the barn and down one of the main paths into the apple trees. From the kitchen window, Rose watched them, confused.
That was fast – too fast for what she knows happens in that barn. She had three other sons before Martin, all of which had shown a pretty young gal the barn. None of them had been that quick, so either Martin had something to be embarrassed about, or there was something else going on.
Judging from the way the pair moved, there was definitely something else going on. And she'd be damned if she didn't find out what.
~O~
Tobias knew his brother and Meilin had ditched him. He knew the sound of the old Ford, and knew that once if faded into the distance, he was stranded at the Circus lot until someone came to get him. But as he watched Dinah from his spot at the picnic table, the way she moved in the mess line gathering food, he realized it didn't bother him as much as it usually did. She was pretty, and from the way she bent in her act last night, flexible too.
Bonus points.
The old man looked at him again, and Tobias was getting a little freaked out. Shooting a glance at Dinah, he saw her smile and mouth something like talk to him before turning around to talk to Evelyn – or was it Abigail?
He looked at the old man – he was still watching him – and shuddered when he saw him break out in a relatively toothless grin.
"Careful watchya touch, boyo. While we Circus lot is like a family, we wouldn't hesatat ta steal the gold fillins from ya mouth." That accent of yours is a mouthful, he wanted to say, but Dinah joined them at that moment, smiling and handing over the tray to the old man.
"There you go Sanders." The old man said something that sounded like thank you, before digging into the sad excuse for pancakes. A small hand appeared on Tobias's thigh, and he turned to look at Dinah, who had this pleasantly coy smile on her mouth.
"Would you like to see my tent, Tobias?" she asked casually, squeezing his leg so there would be no misinterpretation. Nodding dumbly, he let her take his hand and pull him towards the exit. Before he lost all reasonable thought, he sent one last glance at Sanders, who was watching them with a strange look in his eye. The old man simply opened his mouth and tapped one of his last remaining teeth.
Tobias had only a moment to recognize the strange feeling of foreboding settle in his stomach before Dinah hauled him into the sun and towards a small group of tents on the outskirts of the main circle. Then he thought no more, only felt.
And all he felt was Dinah.
HA