Of Fights and Letters: Chapter 4: Nico

AN: This chapter might not be so good because I wrote it a bit quickly. I tried lengthening the chapter a bit, too, but it's still a little short.

I woke up with my cheek pressed against something hard; it was vibrating underneath me. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked the sleep out of them, looking into beautiful blue gray-no, gray green-or were they blue green now?- eyes. I lifted my head and looked around, piecing together what had happened. I looked down; I was still in the chair next to Carter’s bed, keeping a tight grip on his hand. My eyes traveled up his arm to his face, where I saw him watching me. Oh, I thought, I fell asleep on his chest--so that was the hard thing against my cheek!--and it was vibrating because he was laughing at me for falling asleep on him.

“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry-did I hurt you?” I said, completely embarrassed. Carter smiled and shook his head at me. Still trying to hide my blush, I attempted to direct the subject away from myself.

“Are you alright? How’s your back?” And, being the curious person I am, I had to ask, “And… What happened to your chest? That couldn’t have been Aaron.” His face immediately darkened, and he slowly grit out a response from between his teeth.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, turning his face away from me.

I put my fingers under his chin and tilted it up so that he was looking me in the eyes. “Okay,” I said with a small smile, “Okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He smiled back at me, and just as he was opening his mouth to say something, Agatha, the nurse, came through the infirmary’s double doors.

She kindly said, “I’m sorry dear, but I have to change his bandages. You can wait out in the hall, if you like.”

I was about to protest, but Carter looked at me and said, “No, it’s okay, thank you for staying here as long as you did, but you should go home; school’s already over and it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I closed my mouth, and just as I was getting up, I grabbed a piece of loose paper out of my bag and wrote my phone number on it. I leaned over, and, being very careful of his wounds, I gave him a hug and a light kiss on his cheek.

“Get better, okay?” I said, handing him the paper. “And, call me when you get out, alright? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me, and I want to make sure that you are okay.”

Carter looked down at the paper in shock, and nodded his head, mouth still slightly open. Suddenly, he shoved it in my direction, saying, “You don’t want to give me your phone number; I’ll be fine. You probably won’t want to be seen around me either; I’ll just finish showing you around and then I’ll leave you alone, I promise.”

I smirked at him. “Yes, I do want to give my number to you, because not only am I worried if you are going to be okay, you are my only friend and I would like to get to know you better. So what if you’re not popular? I never was; and I don’t care about popularity. I care about genuine people, so keep it,” I said, and I wrapped his fingers around the paper.

Just before I turned, I saw him slightly smiling down at the paper, and I just barely caught him whisper, ”Thank you, Naomi. Thank you.”

I turned my head and whispered over my shoulder, “No, Carter, thank you.” I turned and walked outside, and as I entered my truck I couldn't help but let a little grin spread over my face.

*~*~*~*~*~*

My truck was my baby; it was shiny and sleek, and a beautiful dark bluish-purple color, with huge tires and plush black seats. When we arrived here, I got a few jobs to earn money so I could buy my own truck. My dad couldn’t get it for me, as we were tight on money, and the Step Monster-well, let’s just say I wasn’t getting any help from that direction. So, after months of working in disgusting fast-food restaurants (they’re not all bad, but the ones that I was working in-ew; I don’t even want to talk about it), I had saved up enough to buy my beloved truck.

The Step Monster didn’t approve of me driving a truck, but I really couldn’t care less. The second that I pulled in the driveway, I heard a shrill whining sound; it was like nails on a chalk board, but ten times worse.

“Where have you been, young lady! Your father and I have been so worried!” I looked up; speak of the devil. There she was, in all her glory; platinum-blonde hair (quite obviously dyed), pounds of makeup caked on her face, along with bubblegum pink-painted talons-I mean, nails. She was wearing a tight-fitted tan blouse and a black pencil skirt, along with mile-high stilettos. I hated her. She was everything that my mother wasn’t; add in some stupidity and vanity, and you have a slight idea of the she-devil.

“Why do you care? Oh, is dad watching? Oh yeah, he is! He’s in the window! Hey dad!” I said in a cheery voice, adding a wave when I spotted my father. She scowled and walked up to me, giving me a bone-crushing hug, but it was not out of affection; she was trying to cause me pain.

“Listen here, brat,” she spat, her mouth close to my ear so that my father wouldn’t hear her, “I am your mother now, and you will treat me with respect.” She pushed me away from her, as if I were a disgusting thing she found under her heel.

I narrowed my eyes, brought myself up to my full height (which isn’t very tall) and glared at her, before hissing out, “You, my mother? You will never be my mother. You are just a stranger that lives in my family’s house.” I hoisted my backpack up onto my shoulder and pushed past her, eager to get inside and see Lucia and Nico.

The second I entered through the front door, I was tackled by two small bodies. I laughed, and picked them both up on the floor, kicking my bag into the corner as I stood up.

“Hey guys! How was your day?” I asked, giving each of my younger siblings a kiss on the cheek.

“Nomi! Nomi! I lost a toof! Wook, wook, it’s gone!” I love that he calls me 'Nomi,' I thought, looking at my younger brother; I loved him so much. He looked so different, and I had just seen him this morning. Or maybe I was just noticing the changes in his appearance now. His chocolate-brown hair was longer; his bangs hung in his eyes and his wild curls stuck out in every direction, unable to be tamed.

When I turned to Lucia, I noticed changes in her, too; her normally light brown hair had gotten even lighter, borderline dirty-blonde, and it had definitely grown a few inches. She'd grown a bit, too, but not much. The thing about Lucia that most surprised me, however, was her eyes. She had the most beautiful greenish-blue eyes of the most vibrant shade, but now they looked a bit washed-out.

I couldn't believe it; We had all been in America for quite a while now, and I was just noticing their differences? Or was I just so caught up in feeling sorry for myself that I had had to leave Italy behind that I'd forgotten to check up on them, too?

I suddenly felt a tug on my sleeve; Nico's soft, cocoa-brown eyes looked up at me with so much adoration, my heart swelled and I immediately felt better, the stress of my day and my guilt melting off my shoulders with one look from my baby brother.

I had a better relationship with Nico than I did with Lucia, but Beni and Lucia were as inseparable as Nico and I were, so we balanced out. Lucia wiggled out of my arms and set out to find Beni, but Nico and I (unfortunately, the backpack had to come too) went upstairs to my room.

I definitely think that my room was awesome; I got to decorate it myself when we moved in. The walls were dark blue-black, and I had taken bright neon colors and just splattered the walls. Instead of picture frames, I had pictures hanging from strings above my bed. My bed had a black background with a design of sea-green skulls. I’m not emo or anything, the bedspread just went perfectly with the rest of my room.

I set Nico down on my bed, and then I began to tickle him until he had tears in his eyes, and he was crying, “ZIO! ZIO! Mi arrendo! Smettere, Nomi!” (“UNCLE! UNCLE! I surrender! Stop, Nomi!”) When I finally decided to stop torturing him, we both lay on my bed, and we just talked to each other about how our day was, and then when dinner was ready, we skipped and bounced our way to the dining room. See, I loved to skip and bounce and dance and sing with Nico, not only because it made him happy, but also because it drove the Step Monster insane.

"Naomi! Nico! Stop fooling around and eat your dinner!"

Nico just giggled and skipped the rest of the way to the dinner table, dragging me with him. When the Step Monster--yes, yes, I call her that a lot, sue me-sent me a glare, I rolled my eyes and smirked at her. I then proceeded to make as many loud, obnoxious, and stupid jokes as I could with Nico. He knew exactly what I was doing, and he did it with me every night. The only other person who hated the she-devil as much as I did was Nico. And I loved him even more for it.

After dinner, it was Nico’s bedtime; I carried the sleepy boy in my arms, and up to his room. I brushed his teeth and changed him into his pajamas, like I do every night. When he was under the covers, I read him a quick bedtime story and then kissed his forehead when it was over.

“Ti amo, mio prezioso Nico.” (“I love you, my precious Nico.”)

“Ti amo troppo, Nomi,” (“I love you too, Nomi,”) he said, cutting himself off with a yawn. I smiled down at my baby brother, then turned out the light, closed the door, and made my way to my room, where my dreaded homework was awaiting me.