Sisterhood of the Donne Italiane Arrabbiate {Sam}

[Tash]

It was a sunny day: the blue San Francisco sky glowed like polished blue porcelain. The breeze smelled ever so slightly of sea and summer. Tash had her Bambino, even if he needed to be taken in to get his suspension adjusted. And school was out for the weekend. Things were going beautifully….until the poco emme of a sophomore who’d just learned to drive backed his ridiculously peppy bright blue Yaris from a parking spot without looking and headed straight for Tash in her ’67 Fastback.

She swore, saying something in Italian that would make a sailor blush (provided, he would have to be an Italian sailor, but that was beside the point) and dragged the wheel hard right as she cranked Bambino into reverse, aiming for an empty parking spot behind her to the right. She was fast but that damn little Yaris still clipped her side view mirror as she swung around. Tash slammed on the breaks and Bambino snarled like an angry wild animal. Tash did too.

The kid who’d backed into her got out from behind the wheel and was fussing around the back of his pansy-ass little Yaris. He didn’t even notice that Tash had gotten out of her car and was descending upon him like a Louisiana hurricane.

”’Scuse me. License and insurance please, thanks.”

”What? No way. I’m not fucking giving you that! I just got my license, my parents will kill me!”

”They won’t have to, honey. I’m about to do it for them. And I don’t give a fuck about your merdoso little insurance policy either. Do you have any idea what it’s going to cost to get a new mirror? You backed into me, sugar. And it’s not as if you couldn’t hear me coming. 354 horsepower isn’t hard to hear: it doesn’t sneak up behind you. So don’t’ even. Look at that and guess what it’s going to cost me!”

She pointed furiously at the bent metal and broken glass that was now her right side view mirror. What complete and total shit. Two repairs she had to pay for. And parts like mirrors for classic cars cost more because they weren’t mass produced in some overseas factory by people who didn’t even get paid minimum wage.

The kid just stared stupidly for a minute, then shrugged and responded with:

”So? I don’t wanna pay for that. That’s stupid. It’s just a mirror. What’s the big deal? All you have to do is like, straighten it out.”

That was when Tash’s right fist smashed into his nose. It broke with a satisfying crunch. The sound reminded her pleasantly of a cooking mallet pounding steak. Tash’s eyes narrowed as he yelped and sat down hard on the pavement, holding his nose, which was now bleeding profusely.

"What's the big deal? It's just your nose. All you have to do is like, straighten it out."

Without hesitating, Tash reached down and snagged his wallet from his pants pocket, scribbling down the pertinent information from his license and insurance card on her left arm. As she replaced the wallet, he swung out at her, angry and not really thinking about what he was doing. She jerked back in surprise, and managed to miss the wayward flying hand fairly easily. Quick as an angry bayou gator, she struck out with one foot clad in knee high Doc Martens and pinned the little fucker by his shoulder to the ground. It didn’t take much effort, since he was already off balance to begin with.

” Ascolta me, voi il piccolo piscione! Non potete riconoscere la qualità da merda, può voi? Grande vangare sorpresa. Svuoti il piccolo monello ricco parte di merda. Siete fortunato io lo avete lasciato fuoriuscire così facilmente.”

Who cared if he didn’t understand her. Who cared if nobody did. Normally the fact that practically no one understood her bursts of Italian left her feeling vaguely like a lone island in the sea at Moral Crest. No one understood. Probably not that senior driving by slackjawed in his green shag wagon, his long haired girlfriend in the passenger seat next to him, or the slim brunette girl who had been walking through the parking lot and had stopped to stare bug eyed at the ruckus she was making. Let them stare and contemplate what the hell she was saying. Deep down it still ached, but she was beyond caring at the moment. No one hurt her Bambino.

[Sam Ballerino]

Sam was outright staring at the commotion in the parking lot with a kind of morbid fascination reserved mostly for violence. She watched the girl in the dreads punch some poor sucker in the nose, and shook her head in pity at his poor attempt at a counterattack. She pinned him down with one foot and started yelling at him - in Italian??

She hurried across the lot to the italiana arrabbiata, putting her hand lightly on the girl's shoulder. "Hey, there," she said, trying to calm the girl down a bit. "Lasci il bambino povero solo. Otterrà stasera abbastanza merda dai suoi genitori." She gently tugged on her shoulder, nudging her backward to get her to remove her foot from the boy's shoulder.

She hoped speaking in what seemed to be the girl's native language would distract her enough that she'd leave the poor kid alone. As long as she had his information she could deal with him later, but breaking his nose wasn't the way to do it. Better to give him a call at home and make things awful for him with his parents. At least, that's what Sam would do. If she had a car.

[Tash]

The tug on her shoulder registered before the Italian and Tash whipped around, taking her foot of the sophomore's shoulder and stepping back to avoid any further attempts at counter attack as she simultaneously swung out with her elbow at whoever was coming at her next. Halfway into her swing, she registered that it was the brunette girl who had been watching and that she was speaking in Tash's own language. This girl wasn't trying to cause her any more trouble. Merda! She tried to pull her swinging elbow, not sure how successful she would be since she'd been moving pretty fast, but it would at least slow the attack down enough for the girl to - hopefully- dodge it. Throwing up her hands and taking another step back, Tash replies with, "Oh dio, sono spiacente! Non ho avuto idea che foste. 'My bad! Did I miss?!"

It is at that point that she notices that the culprit behind this whole mess is trying to sneak unobtrusively away. Her hand snakes out and she grabs him by the collar, hauling him back by the scruff of his neck like some disobedient kitten.

"This one won't catch any shit from his parents if he goes home and lies his sweet ass off to them. Piscione backed right into me and is trying to get away with making me pay for damages. I'm already working overtime to pay for my cellphone bill. I can't afford this, and he's trying to get away with keeping his license and insurance from me? Realmente lo pensate direste ai suoi genitori la verità? Uh-uh. I don't."

By now the kid's eyes are watering up, even though he's making a valiant effort not to cry. Not that anyone could blame him, his nose is a bloody mess. Tash huffs irritably and tugs one of the old scarves shes wearing off her neck and shoves it into his hands.

"Here, merdoso. For the bloody nose. You can keep it, I don't mind. I'd hate for you to drown or something."

By now, it's beginning to sink in that this girl, she didn't even know her name, had responded to her in the madrelingua. Impossibly, beautifully native Italian. Sure Nick spoke some but there was never any getting around that British accent that flavored it. But this - this was the real deal. She looked at the girl, who was a few inches taller than her. Olive skinned, brown haired, brown eyed. Definitely harbored some blood from good old Italia. For a moment, nothing comes out, then she extends her hand and says simply.

"Tash. Short for Natasha. Natasha LaVeau."

[Sam Ballerino]

Uh-oh.

There was an elbow flying at Sam's face. A freaking elbow. She threw her free hand up, hoping to block it from breaking her nose as well, but there was no need. The girl seemed to come to her senses mid-swing, and slowed her attack as best she could, so her arm came fairly lightly into Sam's hand, and she brushed it away gently.

The girl, however, was still in a temper. She grabbed the kid, who'd been trying to sneak away, and handed him a scarf to help clean up his bloody nose. Sam thought for a moment.

"You just gotta beat him to the punch," she said with a shrug. "Get his number and call his parents now, prima del pollone può ottenere la casa." She grinned slyly. She didn't usually slip in and out of her languages so easily, but she didn't usually come across an obviously native Italian very often, either. "He'll have to cover damages, volente o nolente. I'll even let you use my phone if you want; my parents cover the bill." She pulled it out of her pocket, just in case, and took the girl's offered hand. "Samantha Ballerino. Sam, preferably."

[Tash]

Tash nodded; Sam had a good point. But she still didn't let go of the sniveling kid. He wasn't looking too good and she wanted to make sure he wasn't going to pass out or anything before he got back into the car. Weren't kids at this school supposed to be tough?

"Feel like giving the nice lady your number, sweetheart, so she can call your parents?"

The kid didn't argue this time, reciting his number obediently lest he incur the wrath of the green eyed amazon who currently held him captive by the back of his Abercrombie polo.

"I appreciate the phone call, Sam." She says with a little smile. "Would you mind taking care of our little porco here while I call his parents and tell them how he backed into me, tragically breaking his nose on his steering wheel as a result of whiplash, but like a responsible boy has offered to reimburse me with cash installments to pay for repairs on my car. So it won't go on his record." She gives the sophomore a good hard look. Her story covered both their asses and she knew it: her look daring him to argue, knowing he wouldn't. There was no way she was obligated to help him out in any way and yet here she was, giving him a way to make up for the damages and stay out of too much hot water with his parents. Tash was no saint, but she wasn't heartless either. Never mind the fact that doing him a favor like this put him in her debt. She'd have some leverage on him the next time their paths crossed and they both knew it.

She winked at Sam and gave a little grin, her flashing canines giving the expression a panther-like quality somehow.

"Grazie per l'aiuto, sorella."

[Sam Ballerino]

Sam gave the kid a small smile as she typed his phone number into her phone, holding it out to Tash. She listened to the story that Tash was going to tell, and nodded with approval. The girl was smart, and obviously good at thinking on her feet. The story both covered her ass for punching the kid in the nose and got him into the least possible amount of trouble with his parents. Very nice.

Sam grinned back."Qualche cosa per un italiana. Dobbiamo attaccare insieme." She said, handing her the phone. "Just push the green button."

While Tash made the call, Sam would keep a careful eye on the little porco, as Tash put it, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at him if he tried to do so much as move. Eventually, though, pity took over, and she caved, kneeling down and taking the scarf from him, making an attempt to stop the blood flow, as he was having no success with it.

"Ciò dovrebbe insegnargli una certa responsabilità," she muttered softly. He couldn't understand, and just stared at her like she'd threatened to rip his balls off and feed them to his grandmother.

[Tash]

The call didn't take too long: the parents weren't home and so Tash had left a message. She wasn't really too worried. This kid might not be too tough, but he'd survived freshman year at this school, so he wasn't stupid. He'd be able to recognize what a deal he was getting. When she was done, she handed the phone back to Sam.

"Mille grazie, sorella." She says with a little smile, her green crocodile eyes glimmering peaceably now that the unpleasant business was settled. Tash offers the kid a hand up and helps him back to his car, shaking her head as he drove away. Sam was still standing there, she realized, and automatically felt an unexpected sense of kinship bloom for this girl she'd only just met. Ah, well...homesickness can do that to ya. But all quips and prickliness aside, they did have something in common, and Sam had been helpful. She turned back to her fellow Italiana. "So do you want a ride to wherever you're headed?"

[Sam Ballerino]

Sam grinned at her second use of the word sister. "Lei è molto benvenuto."

She didn't know many native Italians beyond her father's family, and she didn't see them too often, so the only time she was really ever able to converse in her second-first language was with her parents. It was nice to hear it out of the mouth of someone her age, especially at school.

Besides Nick, of course. Her face darkened for a quick moment, but she distracted herself, watching the bloodied sophomore drive off. She nodded at Tash's question. "That'd be great, actually. I'm going to my dance studio, it's not too far from here." She smirked a little bit. "So... Lei è dall'Italia, presumo. Lei era nato lì?" Slipping into bilinguality with this girl seemed not only easy, but natural. Sam could sense the connection already, and she wanted to continue that way.


((OOC: i am now shakespeare. i make up words ))

[Tash]

"I'm pretty sure I've seen it before. Don't think I'll have too much trouble finding it and it's not too out of my way."

Tash opens the passenger door for her new-found 'sister' as she checks the damage to the mirror. Her expression is pained as she assesses the damage. Her Bambino is near the top of the very very short list of things she'll pick a fight over. She pats the car, as if she's comforting a beloved horse. "Sarete indennità, il mio gioiello. Ora siete sicuro." She murmurs to it, then makes her way to the driver's side and glances back at Sam with a shrug. "My parents pay insurance and gas, but everything else: the car itself, the air conditioning, the engine. That all comes out of my pocket. It's kind of my baby. I'm saving up for paint next. This is just primer."

This isn't stuff she usually tells someone she just met. But she feels comfortable around this girl. Whatever does or doesn't come out of this meeting, it's nice to know she has someone who gets that part of her life. She opens the door to the driver's side and slips behind the wheel, puts the key in the ignition and pulls it out of park. Bambino's engine growls to life, the sound rumbling low clear down to bone, and they roll out of the parking lot.

"No. Ho famiglia là. È dove passare le mie estati. Ogni estate, poiché sono stato un bambino, realmente. E voi stessi?"

[Sam Ballerino]

Sam's eyebrows jumped up in surprise, listening to the girl talk. She'd never had that kind of connection to a car, but she could see the bond she'd formed with it. "Well, if I had to pay for it all myself, I'm sure it would be my baby, too." She said, grinning. It was sweet, how much she cared for the vehicle, like a small child.

Sam got in the car, somewhat gingerly, like she didn't want to step on anything that might hurt it. Just watching the way Tash treated it made it seem like a living thing.

"Siete così fortunato!" She cried. "I've only been a couple times; ho la famiglia là, ma nascevo qui. Ma il papà dice che è venuto qui ad essere qui, non andare indietro ogni anno. Lo manca segreto, sebbene, possa dire." It seemed more fitting to be speaking about their commonality in their common language.