Elise Ch. 05

"I guess so. They both got into restoring those cars. Maybe about 10 years ago, Dad bought a 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS, pretty cheap is what I was told. He helped restore it, had some guys he knew help him with what he couldn't do. I bet it took all his spare time on weekends at home for a good six months to a year. When Brett, he's my brother, when he started driving, he got that car to drive. I understand that car was always the talk of the high school parking lot when he was there.

"Well, when Brett was ready to go away to college, he wanted to take the car with him. But Dad didn't trust him with it, up in Seattle in all that traffic with all his college friends. So he bought Brett another car for his high school graduation, and guess who got the Chevelle?"

I laughed. "It's quite obvious who got it handed down to her. The question is, why doesn't that girl drive it to school?"

Elise had a tiny look of disgust on her face as she explained. "I always thought that thing was ugly. Still do. It was painted a bright lime green, and has two thick black stripes up the hood. And it doesn't have anything but an AM radio. What would I want with that? I wouldn't be seen dead in that thing around school, and I told Dad as much. He was like, 'Well, that's your car. I'm not painting it another color, and you're not getting another one, at least until high school graduation.' So I drive it to the store, to the mall, out to eat, wherever I won't be noticed, anywhere but school. Doesn't bother me much. Walking's good exercise. Only time I drive it to school is when it's raining, which is pretty rare here. Then I'll go early and leave late. That way, no one's around when I arrive or leave, so no one sees me with it."

"Frankly, Elise, I'm surprised you care what anyone would think about the car. You don't seem too concerned about what others think about you otherwise."

"That's true, in general. But that doesn't mean I'm not trying to cultivate an image. And that ugly-ass car doesn't fit that image. About the farthest from it."

With a big smile so she knew I was teasing, I responded, "Who would have ever known that the one chink in tough, mature-beyond-her-years Elise's armor would be her car?"

She smiled back. "True enough, I suppose. But it's because of who I'd have to deal with at school, and their LACK of maturity. I am already considered enough of a nonconformist at school, a really strange sort of bird, it's easier on me if I don't give them any more ammunition, you get that?"

"Sure." But that led to another question I just had to ask. "Sweetie, please tell me you don't get bullied at school because you're different."

"Oh, no sir, I don't have that problem. For one thing, I'm very good at pretty much ignoring it if someone starts something. I have this look I give them. Here, I'll show you." She gave me a really incredulous look, as if to say 'really?', along with a slow, sad shake of the head.

I shook my head at that. "Can't say I'd start anything with you. That's a look I wouldn't want to see if I was a kid. It'd make me feel like a moron."

With a snicker she said "I've had a lot of practice on it, and it's designed to do just that. And it has worked, every time but one."

"And what happened then?"

"It was back in middle school. I gave this boy the look, and I guess he didn't like it -- took it personally or something. He made the mistake of pushing me, actually getting physical, crossing the line. Well, before he knew it, he was on the ground with his nose bleeding. Don't know if I broke it or not, but I sure meant to. It went so fast, he never knew what hit him. There were witnesses who told the principal what happened, and I was talked to, but not penalized, for what was seen as an act of self-defense by a girl against a male attacker.

"You see, I might have always been ignored at home, but one thing my father and brother, both of them, drilled into me was not to take shit off anyone, pardon my language." I waved that off, and she continued. "What that boy, who by the way was not as tall as I was at the time, didn't know is that my dad had enrolled me in martial arts before I even got to middle school. The course included not only self-defense techniques, but also centering exercises like yoga. My brother had gone, too, when he was the same age. I think Dad realized we'd both be on our own more than some other kids, and he wanted us prepared to take care of ourselves, physically and mentally."

In my mind, I ticked off yet another reason to admire this unique young lady, at the same time giving a few silent kudos to her father for at least insisting on that valuable training for both his children. "Well, I stand warned. Please be assured that I'll never try anything like that with you."

"Not that I think you ever will. I think I know you well enough already, Sandy."

"Well, I'm honored you trust me. To be honest, I'm as gentle as a little fluffy kitten."

She giggled. "I'll just bet you are."

With a smile, I gave Elise my best 'faux offended' face. "By the way, before I forget, the schedule says that your school's hosting a tournament Saturday."

"Yeah, we'll have three other schools in, play a round-robin with them, shorter matches, best of three sets. It starts at 10am and runs all afternoon. Our team won't play in two matches in a row, so there should be time to talk between matches if you want."

"I'd like that a lot. So I guess I'll see you Saturday. Oh, by the way, will your mom or dad be there, by any chance?"

Elise reached out and gave my arm a playful punch. "Oh boy, aren't you just the joker? The next time one of them shows up at anything I'm involved in, it'll be the first time. And it'd all be for nothing. I'm sure I'd faint dead away, out of complete shock, and so they wouldn't see me do whatever it was I was supposed to be doing anyway."

Laughing at that scenario, I touched Elise on the shoulder, then I quickly turned serious. "You can't imagine how sorry I am that you've had to grow up with this lack of support from people you should be able to look up to and depend upon."

"That's OK. I'm so used to it, I never even think about it anymore." Before I could step away, she timidly asked, "Sandy, can I ask a favor?"

"Anything."

"Can I have another hug, please?"

Nothing needed to be said. I stepped into her space and embraced her. She squeezed me a bit harder than I expected; held it longer, too. She felt good, and I felt some stirrings below, the first time since we'd met that, to me, we didn't feel completely platonic.

She had one more surprise. As we came out of the embrace, she lightly, chastely, kissed me on the cheek. She said, "Thank you, Sandy, for the hugs and support, and for being such a good listener. You don't know how much it means to me. No matter how long I've felt all alone, not being able to talk to someone never gets any easier. I don't think I've ever shared so much of myself with anyone so soon before, but it just feels safe with you, you know?"

"Your instincts are right on, sweetie. You ARE safe with me. And how could I not listen to you with interest? You are a very unique young woman, one of a kind I'd say. You and your story are fascinating. I hope we can be good friends."

"Me too, Sandy. And so far, it's like everything's been about me. Next time, I want you to tell me all about yourself. I have a feeling I'll be interested in that as well."

"It's a date then, babygirl." It was my first use of a term of endearment, normally used toward a female sub, that I hoped I'd be using toward her a lot in the upcoming days and weeks. "See you Saturday."

Elise gave me her brightest smile. "See you then."

***************

The rest of the way home, I was jubilant at how well it was going between this extraordinarily bright, mature, barely legal high school girl and me, a guy old enough to be her grandfather. And I was already plotting how I could gently and subtly push this friendship further by sharing some of myself and my past with my new friend, using her innate curiosity to help things along.