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Message-ID: <49304asstr$1096449006@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt Ch 15 {Gina Marie Wylie} (teen, mf, cons)
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Date: Wed, 29 Sep 2004 05:10:06 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 15.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mf, cons.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, by Gina Marie Wylie. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http://www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 15 :: Sunday Dinner

	Sunday afternoon I went over to Mercedes' house about two.  I
had dinner with her family and I was formally introduced to
everyone.

	I'd met her mother, Camilla, and her father, Ruy.  Now I met her
older sister, Yolanda, then the oldest set of twins, Maria and
Elizabeth, the younger twins, Isabel and Rosalie, her brother
William, known as Memo, and Richard.  I'd seen them all at
Blade's briefing; I'd heard the names, but they hadn't been
pointed out to me.

	I'd brought a vase with flowers that my mom had told me I needed
as a hospitality gift.  My flower offering wasn't alone on the
dining room table, not by any means.

	I wasn't sure where I stood with Mercedes' parents.  I'd played
poker with her father the night before, but he'd made no sign one
way or another about what he thought about me.  Mercedes' mother
was a gracious hostess, putting me completely at ease.

	The food was more like what I'd have expected my mom to make:
pot roast and baked potatoes, green beans cooked with onions,
rolls and salad.  There was jello and pudding for dessert. 
Nothing really fancy, but all prepared with care and quite
yummy.

	"One thing I like to do, Davey," Ruy d'Silva told me after we'd
been sitting at the table for a while talking, the ruins of the
meal still on the table, "is get out of the way of my good ladies
as they deal with the aftermath."

	"He takes a walk," Camilla said.  "Good riddance!  Ten people in
the house and half the dropped dishes are his!"

	He stood up and beckoned, so I followed along.  In a few
minutes, we were outside, the two of us alone and walking.  He
set a nice pace, not really brisk but not leisurely either.

	"About now, both of us are trying to take the measure of each
other," he told me after a few minutes.

	"Sir, I'm not trying to do anything."

	He laughed.  "Sure you are!  You want to run off with my
daughter!"

	"I think Mercedes has her heart set on walking down the aisle
with you at her side," I told him.

	He snorted.  "I suppose.  Like I said the other day, you're nice
enough.  Assuming you don't get her killed."

	I sighed.  There was no reply to that.  None.

	We walked a little further, crossing the bridge over the
pathetic excuse for a river that was the Rio Concho.  We reached
the main street and he waved up and down it.  Small businesses, a
few fast food restaurants, lined it in both directions.

	"I don't blame Mercedes for wanting to leave this.  When I was
her age, it was all I thought about."  He turned to me.  "I went
off to college and it was there I realized I couldn't run away
from this.  You kids deserve so much better than what we have! 
I've spent the last twenty years working to get classes with meat
on them in the school.  Three times they've tried to make me the
principal but I felt I was more use in a classroom.  Ruiz is a
good man, but over his head.  He was a fine English teacher, but
it's starting to slip out of control.  Friday was just the latest
problem; too many kids are contemptuous of authority, of us,
their teachers.

	"In college I looked around and saw kids of privilege, kids
intent on changing the world.  Most of them were really clueless.
 They had no idea what it was like in a place like San Angelo. 
They had all these grand schemes and plans, none of which paid
any attention to what was possible, to what life was really like
in a town like this.  I would, I told myself, make a
difference."

	He stopped and looked at me.  "I couldn't even make it work with
my own kids.  Mercedes is the only one with the slightest hope of
doing something better."

	I contemplated his words and spoke carefully.  "It sounds like
you're giving up.  On San Angelo, on us."

	"I guess that's true.  It's a hard thing, Davey.  A hard thing
to realize that you've been standing with your finger in the
dike, while the water was rising all around you from the million
other leaks."

	He laughed, then.  "I can't imagine why I'm having this
discussion with you.  The thirteen year old who's chasing my
youngest daughter."

	I couldn't resist a dig.  "Sir, she's been chasing me since the
first time we met.  She calls me Messerschmitt, the prey of
Spitfires like her."

	He laughed then.  "I can imagine her saying that!  I wondered."

	"Don't give up," I told him.  "At least not until after we take
chemistry."  I thought I was kidding; I realized I wasn't almost
as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

	He touched my shoulder.  "Tell me, if you asked your father,
would he pay for your vacation next summer?  The one Mercedes
wants to go on?"

	"Yes," I told him.  "I suspect he would.  We've been to Cancun,
to Baja California, to Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands.  I
think if I wanted Hawaii, it would happen.  But I won't ask. 
Mercedes wants to do it herself.  Maybe not this summer, but the
summer after."  I told him.

	His grip firmed on my shoulder.  "Ah!  A realist!  A young man
who understands!  I want a promise from you, Davey."

	"What?" I asked.  I wasn't sure why, but I found I liked him.  I
liked him a whole lot.  I respected my father, but I didn't like
him.  I both liked and respected Ruy d'Silva; I didn't have a
clue what the difference was or why.

	"What do you know about the science fair?"

	I shrugged.  "I've heard of it."

	"Mercedes wants to be a serious scientist.  She tells me you do
too."

	I met his eye.  "Until I met her, I had no idea what I wanted. 
I like the ocean, studying it appeals to me.  Being with Mercedes
appeals to me more."

	"Never lie to yourself, Davey," he admonished me.  "I want the
two of you to do a science fair project.  The two of you, working
together.  You will do the whole nine yards.  Decide on a topic,
make the applications, do the work.  Above all, do your best."

	I blinked.  More expense, when it came time!  I smiled at him
and quoted Hound Dog's line from Armageddon.  "I know I'm the
cynical weasel here, but what's in it for us?"

	He laughed, "I saw that movie!  Simple, Davey.  Win a
scholarship and I'll put matching dollars into a fund for
Mercedes to go to Hawaii, since I won't need that much to fund
her college education.  I will talk to your father and he'll do
the same thing, I suspect, for you."

	"Mercedes wants to do it on her own."

	He looked at me, one eyebrow arched.  Yeah, okay.  I knew in my
heart of hearts, we didn't have a prayer, not in a year.  Maybe
as juniors, where we could get decent summer jobs; or we could go
after we graduated.  I'd been thinking that I'd try my hardest,
Mercedes would try her hardest and we'd try to console ourselves
with the year after next.

	"If she does it on her own, I won't even insist on going with
you," he told me.  "Feel free to tell her that for me.  I will
too, in case she doesn't believe you.  But she won't.  And if
you're honest, you know how little chance you have of success."

	"So, we do a science fair project?"  I got back to the topic of
the moment.

	"Yes.  Like I said, you do the work.  If you do it right, your
team could be a finalist.  I know my daughter, Davey.  I'm coming
to know you.  You look like you don't care, but I think in your
heart of hearts, you really do.  Maybe more, in your own way,
than Mercedes.  Please."

	There was that.  Adults are always sneaky; they know the things
to say that push our buttons.

	Shortly thereafter we were back at their house.  Her brothers
and sisters were gone, Mercedes and I spent a while sitting in
her living room talking about all sorts of things, just getting
to know each other.  We talked, briefly, about a science fair
project.  Mercedes didn't want to talk about the money part of
it, but she did think the idea of doing some real research was
attractive.  She would, she told me, think about it.

	I hated to leave, but eventually I had to.

	Home, I read more about Wizenbeak, read about his first big
battle.  I'd already noticed that Wizenbeak and I had something
in common.  The first times he'd had to fight, he'd not bothered
with extensive thought about what he had to do; he just did it. 
I was fairly sure Wizenbeak would have punched Terry Toohey in
the stomach, too.

There were no late night visitors to my room.  I turned off my
light and sat down on the edge of my bed.  I reached out to the
bedpost and lifted Mercedes' bra and held it in my hand.  I
sighed, trailing the fabric through my fingers.  I wanted her.  I
really wanted to make love to her; I wanted to be with her.  I
put it back and then simply lay down on the bed.  I thought about
whacking off and then decided that I was going to save it up for
when Mercedes and I were together, whenever that was.

When I got up in the morning, Emily had already dosed the water,
then she had waited long enough and was already swimming.  The
sun was just starting to peek over the horizon.

	"How is it you shower so much faster than me?"  I asked,
thinking myself witty.

	"You spend time drying off.  I noticed that the other day."  She
splashed water in the pool.  "Why bother?"

	I stood stock still, thinking about just how stupid I was.  I
did dry myself after my shower.  I was obsessive about getting
dry.  Why?  I'd been going from being dry to being wet as soon as
I hit the water for nearly every day for six months.  What was
the point?

	The more I thought about that simple thing, the more I realized
that Emily had pointed out a profound truth.  I got out of the
shower and dried off.  I had never once contemplated that in the
context of putting on a pair of swimming trunks and jumping in
the swimming pool.  It was such a trivial thing, but it pointed
to a way of thinking I'd never explored.

	Lately, over and over, I'd run into the fact that my assumptions
about my life and myself in particular, people and life in
general, were all wrong.  How many other things were there in my
daily life that I assumed because I'd never really thought about
it?

	A few minutes later, Wanda appeared, headed for the pool, nude
again.  I saw her and pointed.  "Stop!"

	She stopped, startled.  "Emily," I asked, "come here please and
help me judge."  Emily was equally unsure what I wanted, but she
came and stood next to me.

	I pointed to Wanda.  "Did you shower?"

	"Of course I did, Davey!  Eew!  Gross!  Thinking about people
not showering first before getting into the pool!"

	"So," I turned to Emily.  "Is Wanda dry or wet?"

	Emily understood and laughed.  "Dry."

	"Of course I'm dry!  If I was still wet, Mom would have kittens
if she saw me traipsing through the living room dripping wet!"

	There was, of course, that.

	Emily glanced at me and we both laughed.  "Oops!"  Emily said.

	That brought a smile to my face as well, while Wanda stood on
the edge of the pool, frustrated because she didn't understand.

	Eventually I was swimming my laps, and they were sitting on the
edge of the pool.  Wanda was, I heard a couple of times, trying
to persuade Emily that she should swim nude, too.  Emily was
going to take a lot of convincing, I expected.  Saturday had
taken a lot of convincing, and I suspected Emily didn't see any
reason to do it again any time soon.

	We happened to get to school at the same time Mercedes was being
dropped off.  Wanda and I stopped to chat with her while Emily
went on to her first class.  Anyplace Mercedes was, was a place I
was sure to go...

	I was just sort of drifting, thinking of all things, about
Algebra class.  Wanda was talking about something and then said
something that got my attention.  "I heard we're going to get a
new German teacher today.  I haven't heard who, but whoever it
is, he or she is supposed to be on an indefinite contract, in
case Fraulein Kimmel returns."

	My jaw dropped, I shook my head in disbelief.  I'd forgotten
that Wanda was in her fourth year of German!

	"Did Fraulein Kimmel ever give you any shit because you are my
sister?" I asked Wanda.

	She shook her head.  "I never thought about it.  I felt pretty
bad about Frau Weiss last year..."  Her voice trailed away.  What
had Wanda said?  The teacher last year had been hit by a car
too...

	My mind raced again.  It was odd, I was getting bursts of
thoughts that would run through my mind.  It was weird; sometimes
afterwards all sorts of things made sense.  Other times, nothing
seemed to happen.  This was a happening thing.

	All those times Hannelore had called me Parker; I thought she
was just trying to do some stupid put down.  What if the
explanation was simpler?  She didn't know my last name?

	I smiled at the two of them and said I had to make a phone call.
 Mercedes laughed.  "Davey, one of these times when you say
you're off making a call, and I see some guy in a colorful
costume zipping around, fighting for truth, justice and the
American Way, you're going to be busted right from the first!"

	Peter Parker, I thought.  Spiderman.  Wonderful, my new alter
ego.  Then I could confuse everyone, as well as Hannelore
Kimmel.

	I walked away from the biology lab, found an untenanted spot and
called Blade.

	"You know," Blade said, speaking without preamble, "I got my
butt chewed for giving you my secret agent phone number.  You're
batting a thousand, Davey.  Once again I'm sitting right across
from Willy who is glaring at me, giving me the evil eye, when we
are supposed to be comparing notes in a meeting that wasn't
supposed to be interrupted."

	"I thought of some things.  Important things," I told him.  "The
German teacher last year, a Mrs. Weiss, was run down in a
crosswalk in a hit and run last Christmas or thereabouts."

	I hate cell phones; there is no sound if the other person is
being still.  Nothing.  "I knew that," Blade said, his voice
flat.  "Imagine that.  I knew about that."

	There was another pause and he was back.  "Imagine that.  Willy
knew about it, too.  We seem to have flunked the connect-the-dots
class.  Sorry, Davey."

	"A couple of times Hannelore called me 'Parker' not Harper.  I
didn't think anything of it; I thought she was just trying to
jerk my chain.  Except, Wanda just reminded me that she's in the
Fourth Year German class.  Maybe Hannelore really does think my
last name is Parker.  Because, according to Wanda, Hannelore
never bothered her or said anything to her."

	"Interesting," he said.  "Is that all?  We have to get back to
connecting the dots.  It's what they pay us to do, and we're not
making much progress."

	"That's all," I told him.

	There was another brief pause and this time it was Willy Coy. 
"Hello, Davey.  Are you okay?"

	"Yes, sir."

	"I know sometimes Blade makes noises like he's not happy to hear
from you.  He is, really.  So am I.  That said, Davey, how many
people know you have his number?  That you are calling him?"

	I thought carefully.  "Wanda, my dad and my friend, Mercedes."

	"Try to keep it to that if you can.  Take care."

	At lunch I had barely sat down next to Mercedes in the cafeteria
when my phone vibrated.  My mom wanted me to send Emily and Karen
to the school office.  They were, she told me, going to have new
schedules.

	Of course, that left Mercedes and me alone, which was just fine
with me.  Gosh, it even lasted almost two minutes before someone
else asked if he could join us.  It was Rob Oliver, from the
baseball team.  He was a sophomore, the guy who'd made comments
at practice on Saturday about my putdown of Terry and his
friends.  The guy who'd stepped in during my fight.

	He sat down across from us, a sparkle of humor in his eyes. 
"Friday you had a bevy of girls at this table, now I just watched
you send two of them away."

	"They had to go to the office," I told him.

	"You mean they're coming back?  Cool!"

	"I'm Davey Harper, this is Mercedes d'Silva," I told him.

	He laughed.  "Davey, there isn't a person at this school who
doesn't know who you are!  Tearing into three guys at once!  That
was some righteous whupass!"

	I swallowed.  Sure Davey, tell him you freaked when you saw
three guys wearing coats in summer time.  "I have some history
with them," I said carefully.  "I'm not very proud of what I
did."

	"Administration didn't bust your chops over it, I hear," Rob
said.

	"Self-defense," Mercedes piped up.  "A gun, knives, ninja
stars...  You won't be seeing those three around any time soon!"

	I wished Mercedes hadn't said anything.  Wanda had said that
today I'd be a big hero; so far, I wasn't anything -- which was
fine by me.

	"Well," Rob said, nodding, "there you go.  We don't need that
kind of shit here at school!"

	"Like I said," uncomfortable from the praise, "I'm not really
proud of what happened.  I'd just as soon put it behind me."

	Emily and Karen returned to the table, both looking pleased. 
"Davey, thanks!" Emily said, "I don't know what to say!"

	I chuckled, "Well, let me tell you, if you have Ms. Churchwood
for algebra third period, along about tomorrow evening you are
going to be cussing me up one side and down the other when you
find out what you've missed."
	
	"She is really, really hard," Mercedes agreed, "but she is
really very good."

	The two of them had seated themselves on the same side of the
table as Rob, although I could tell that Emily wasn't happy to be
sitting next to him.  There was room for only three people on a
side and neither of them had joined Mercedes and me.

	I saw Rob smile at Emily and then check her out.  On one hand, I
wanted to go into big brother mode and deck him.  On the other
hand, that would see me sitting at home for a month or so. 
Besides which, Emily was going to have to deal with guys checking
her out.

	"Emily," I said, keeping my voice low.  "Four people at this
table know why Rob is making you uncomfortable.  Like I told you
the other day, guys are guys.  Just tell him."

	Emily looked at me, her face suddenly pale.

	"Hey!" Rob exclaimed.  "You don't have to tell me anything!  I
can go sit next to Davey!  Not a problem!"

	"I was raped," Emily said, her voice soft.

	Rob recoiled.  "God!  I don't imagine me telling you I'm sorry
does much for you, but I am!"

	Mercedes shook her head.  "Not to mention Emily has an
appointment to get expelled along about November."

	Like me, Rob shook his head, not understanding.

	"I'm pregnant," Emily sounded really depressed.

	"God!  That's a tough decision to have to make!"

	Karen sniffed, "Her mother is like my parents.  They kicked her
out, like mine did me.  Oh, I'm just 'visiting'," she made air
quotes.  "Right!"

	Rob sat still, looking distressed.  "You're pregnant, too?"

	Karen frowned and shook her head.  "My parents are Southern
Baptists -- I like to dance."

"That thing Friday..."  Rob looked at me, obviously wondering if
it had anything to do with current events.

	"My history," I told him.  "Nothing to do with anything."

	"I have a cousin who went to work in Hollywood," Rob said.  "She
tells me all these stories about the people there.  I never
thought I'd hear stories like those, here in San Angelo."

	He looked at Emily.  "I know this is short acquaintance, but I
really, truly want to make movies.  I need, my cousin says, good
material.  The human condition, she says, is the key to
everything.  Make people laugh, make people cry, get their pulse
pounding, the adrenalin flowing... any of it and all of it.

	"If you like, I'd like to talk to you.  It would be like an
interview."

	"He's talking about a documentary," Mercedes told Emily.

	Emily shook her head and Rob started to speak again.

	"Rob," I said, and he looked at me.  "You made Emily
uncomfortable when you sat next to her.  There was no way you
could know that was going to happen.  Now she's said no.  Rob,
back off."

	I was surprised, because he turned to face Emily.  "Filmmaking
sucks rocks, Emily.  People who want to be in a documentary
usually don't belong in one.  The people who should, usually
don't want to be there.  Today, tomorrow, next month or next year
-- if you ever want to have a sounding board for how you feel,
come see me."

	He lifted a small case on his waist; I'd seen it and thought it
was a CD player.  "My digital camera.  I never leave home without
it!  I won't push, Emily.  Never.  But if you want to tell me
about yourself, if you want tell others about your story, I'll be
here."

	Rob seemed to realize at that point he faced three hostile women
and me, who was simply unsure what was best.

It was a deep chill on the conversation, relieved only when the
bell rang and we stood up to go to afternoon classes.

Mercedes and I walked a ways together, and she stopped.  "I made
twenty-five dollars this weekend."

I looked at her.  "I figure we need to make $35-40 a week to get
enough."

"How did you do?" she asked, ignoring me.

"I lost a buck and a half."

She smiled but I could see her mind was working.  "I don't need a
white knight at the end of the day," she told me.

"You said that once and I agreed," I told her, a little miffed.

	"I can't compete with you in the money department, Davey, I
don't want to try.  Don't try to buy me."

	We were walking inside the main hallway towards the classrooms.
I lost it.  I simply lost it.

	I put my finger on her solar plexus, hard.  "Then don't compete
with me in my game!  It's not competition, anyway!"

	She looked at me, looked at my thumb digging into the space
between her breasts.  She looked back at me.  "What game,
Davey?"

	"My parents have money.  I have money.  I'm going to use my
poker can savings towards this summer.  That gives me about a
hundred and fifty dollars to the good right now.  Mercedes, you
can baby sit.  I can't do squat.  I will do what I have to do to
earn the money for this summer, okay?

"Do me a favor, right now!  I'm not going to let a couple of
hundred dollars stop either you or me.  It's not going to happen!
 If we don't have the majority of the money, I'll let it go, but
if it's just a few dollars, Mercedes, I'm not going to give up on
my dreams!  I won't let you give up on yours!"

For a second, she said nothing, then replied like I'd said
nothing at all.

	"So, what do you want to do after school today?"

	Today!  I remembered that!  Today Mercedes was safe!  Unless she
was starting her period.  I wasn't sure.  "Come to my house," I
told her.  "We can study or something.  No one else is likely to
be home."

	She smiled at me, and then we had to rush to get to our
classes.

	Colonel Terrell was in a fine mood, at least from his point of
view.  He assigned us a theme paper, due in three weeks.  The
topic was something only Colonel Terrell could think up: "Define
Moat.  How Wide Does a Moat Have To Be?"

	As I was leaving, Shellie Gerrold stopped me.  "Davey, please, a
second."

	I stopped, curious.  We'd known each other for years and years.
We had almost never spoken.  Actually, except for something
having to do with school, once maybe, we'd never spoken at all.

	"I wanted to thank you the other day.  For what you did."

	It took a second, but I remembered turning my desk upside down.
I shrugged.  "The Colonel was being hard on you; I didn't like
it.  You didn't know what to expect."

	She nodded.  "And you got him off my case.  Thanks, Davey."

	I shrugged again.  "Anytime, Shellie."

	"I talked to Mercedes the other day.  She's nice."  With that,
Shellie turned and walked away.

	It was a good thing PE was next; I stood there with my mouth on
the floor for a few seconds.  What had Mercedes said?  In her
dreams she and I were making love to another girl.  One she'd
talked to Friday.  Mercedes had gone to a different middle
school; it was possible she already knew Shellie... more likely
Shellie was the person Mercedes had talked about.

	Shy Shellie?  Who'd just said more words to me than she'd said
in 8 years of school up until today?  On the flip side, I'd stood
up for her in class.  Sure, I'd told the Colonel I was doing it
for myself; I don't think anyone believed that at all.  And
today?  Today I'd talked to Shellie too.  Shy Davey Harper, who
had not had any experience talking to girls until his older
sister had taken him in hand and...

	I arrived at PE erect.  Late, but hard as a rock.  I had to
hustle to dress out, as everyone was gone; I don't think anyone
noticed.

When the last bell rang, I made my way directly to Mercedes'
locker.  She grinned at me when I got there.  "You're drooling,
Messerschmitt!"

I laughed.  "Can't help myself, Spitfire, when I look at you!"

Wanda showed up.  "Come along, Davey."

"Can Mercedes have a ride?" I asked.

Wanda grinned.  "We have a sewing lesson this afternoon, Davey."

I grimaced.  Four girls and my mother; that wasn't going to be a
good combination.  Particularly not when the girls went off to
'work' on the 'outside projects.'  Of course, Mercedes seemed
like she'd understand about such things.  And there was the
alternative: go to Mercedes' house.

Emily sat in front; Mercedes and I got in the back.  Mercedes and
I held hands and spent the few minutes staring at each other.

When we got home, Mom was right there.  "Freshen up, Wanda,
Emily.  I talked to Pammie a bit ago; today we'll go shopping for
patterns and fabrics."

She turned to me.  "You'll be all right alone, Davey?  I don't
expect us back until close to six."

"We're just going to study, Mom," I told her.

She surprised me by leaning close and planting a kiss on my
forehead.  "Enjoy your studies!"

Pammie and Karen arrived, and a few seconds later they were
gone.

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