Rating: PG-13 now for language, alcohol use, will lean more to R (or possibly NC-17) in later chapters
POV: Matt’s mostly and occasionally the 3rd person
Pairing: implied Derek x Travis (might be others as the story progresses)
Summary: Matt is 18 and his brother Evan (http://community.livejournal.com/fftlo
Disclaimer: NOT true. Happened in my head, obviously…
Chapter 1: http://mcr-blue-canary.livejournal.c
When I explained my situation to Derek and Trav, I had their sympathy. They also agreed to help me get rid of the little dago. We spent several days drinking in Derek’s basement plotting ideas. Oddly, enough, I was starting to look forward to his coming, just so we could implement our ideas…This is gonna be fun.
Sonny had all his bags packed. He was anxious about going to America. He had always wanted to visit the US, but he was still worried. He would be an ocean away from his family and friends. He’d been practicing his English and was told many times how good it was, but he still worried it wouldn’t be good enough. He also worried about his host family.
He sat quietly on the living room couch, staring out the window. His mother sat down beside him. She put an arm around him and pulled him into an embrace.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said soothingly, “Americans are nice people; I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends.”
“You might not even want to come home!” His mother joked. She paused, “You better get something to eat before we head to the airport.
Sonny nodded again. He hugged her and headed off to the kitchen for a sandwich. He knew he would miss her.
It’s the morning of the day that Dago’s supposed to come. I see Evan in the hall.
“Hey buttmunch,” I call at him; he looks my direction, “What do you think about Dago?” He shrugged, “Ass clown." I continue, "Why do you think mom decided to host an exchange student?”
“D’uh. ‘Cause the Freedmans down the street did. They got all sorts of praise and attention. Gotta keep up with the Joneses, you know ”
“What a dumb bitch,” I mumble. That is so typical of mom, too. Monkey see, monkey do.
I go downstairs and mom glares at me; I glare back. I don’t know what her problem is, but I have a feeling I’m gonna find out.
“What the hell, Matt?!” she yells. I have no idea what I did now.
“What?” I say curtly.
“You came home late…you were drunk!” she informs me, emphasizing the word ‘drunk.’
“And your point is…?”
“Your drunk ass broke my lamp!!” she screams.
“I did not.” I say, rolling my eyes. Everything’s always my fault.
“Well, it didn’t break itself.”
“Maybe the couch broke it, then,” I announce mockingly.
“You're so clever, Matt. Nobody else was stumbling around the living room drunk last night…”
“Except maybe your pimp,” I mutter with a smile. Her face turns red in anger.
“You little fucking bastard!” she shrieks as she picks up the little table that the lamp used to sit on. She throws the table at me. It hits my chest and I stumble backwards.
“Y’know,” I retort, “This is why we don’t have nice stuff.”
“Get out!” she screams, “Get out of my house!”
“You want your table back?” I say calmly. She grabs the fire poker and chases me out of the house. The door slams behind me.
I scratch my head. I don’t remember breaking that lamp. If I did I probably sat in the living room and cried like a fat girl who missed buffet night. Why doesn’t she ever blame fucking Evan? Why always me? ‘Cause he’s the baby. Stupid Evan; just for that I’m not returning his twenty bucks—not like he’ll notice anyway. I walk to Trav’s house. I knock on the door and his mom opens it.
“Oh, hi, Matt!” she hugs me. “How are you?”
“Then praise the Lord!” she smiles triumphantly. If I had said I was doing bad, we would’ve prayed about it in the doorway.
“Yeah…Um, Where’s Trav?”
“Oh, he’s in his room doing devotions.”
“K, I think I’ll join him, then,” I smile and she lets me inside. I head to Trav’s room and knock on the door.He answers it.
“Oh, hey, man, what’s up?” he asks as we walk in his room. He closes and locks the door behind us.
“So how are devotions coming?” I taunt.
“Fuck you, dude. Not my fault my parents are delusional.”
I nod, “Speaking of delusional…” I tell him about mom’s weird rant today.
“Your mom’s just a nutjob,” Trav announces.
“Yeah, I know, thanks.” I paused briefly, “I think Dago’s coming today.”
“Excited?” he taunted. I punched his shoulder.
“We gotta be prepared for this. I want him outta here by Thanksgiving.” I say.
“It’s good to set goals for oneself,” I respond.
We called Derek and he came over. The three of us spend several hours planning just how to deal with Sonny. I don’t know how much time had passed before I heard Trav’s mother calling my name.
I looked at Trav, “That ain’t the first time your mom’s screamed my name.”
Derek started cracking up and Trav called me a douchebag. I went downstairs to see what she wanted.
“Matt, your mom’s here to pick you up,” she said when I came down.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I hollered up to them. I went outside to see my mom and Evan sitting in the car. They’re probably on their way to pick up Dago. I open the backseat door and climb in. I open my mouth to speak, but Evan cuts me off.
“Shotgun on the way back.” He announces.
“Fucker!” I scream.
“Shut up, Matt,” mom says solemnly.
“So…uh…why’d you guys bother picking me up?” I ask.
“So that Sonny can meet everyone.” Mom informs me. I sigh. I guess I’m not gonna get out of this.
We arrive at the airport after a mostly silent car ride. Mother made a really gay looking sign that said ‘Sonny;’ it also had crappy drawings of the Italian flag on it, as well as other little stupid things she drew. I want a sign too. So I make one out of the back of a flier. Mine reads ‘Dago.’ Mom bitches at me, but I keep my sign. Evan doesn’t seem to care, ‘cause he’s a cum-dunt. I tell him that, and he flicks me off. Little shit. He’s probably gonna suck up to this kid, too.
We hear over the intercom that the flight from Palermo, Sicily has just arrived
“That’s the plane he’s on!” Mother says excitedly. She turns towards me, “Be good; be nice to him.”
I smile, “I’m always nice.”
We wait by the terminal for him. I watch the people file out. I see a fat kid: if that’s Sonny I’ll roll his lard-ass down the steps. It wasn’t him. I then spot a beautiful full-figured woman. I hope that’s Sonny, and they accidentally wrote down ‘male’ instead of ‘female.’ That wasn’t him either. I then spy a short kid trying unsuccessfully to get past a bunch of fat people. I laugh at him; he probably lost his mommy. Eventually, the kid gets through. He looks around and starts heading in our direction.
He comes up to us and says to my mom, “Signora Good?”
She smiles, “You must be Sonny!” He nods and she hugs him. I can’t get a good look at him through my mother’s fat ass. I wait for her to move.
She puts an arm around him, turns, and introduces us.
My mouth drops open. He is gorgeous. I couldn’t see his face from afar, but up close I can see just how delicate his little body looks. I forget that I still have the ‘dago’ sign in my hands.
He looks at the sign and then at me and says, “Hello, Merkin.”
“Huh?” I say stupidly.
“Mat Salleh,” he responds with a smile.
“Uh, yeah, I’m Matt,” I inform him again. I have no idea what he’s talking about. All I know is my plans have now been thrown out of proportion.
When I said that, he started to laugh. His smile is beautiful.
Both “Merkin” and “Mat Salleh” are derogatory names for Americans.