The Kids Aren't All Right

[Cassia Rosatta]

'The rain from Spain should have stayed there.' Cassia thought as she made her way through the Paris streets. Her outfit was drenched, even her shoes. The weather seemed unseasonable, as she had studied it a bit in natural science. Being that France was a neighboring country, it was not uncommon for the petite woman to know of it's weather patterns - but that particular day they seemed so unpredictable. Her flats were soaked, the young woman wishing now more than ever that she had worn rain boots. Not that she currently owned any. Back home in Barcelona she had plenty of shoes that her late parents bought her. Se had a lot of things that her God-Parents were probably throwing out at this point. Sighing ever so slightly, Cassia finally arrived under the awning of a French restaurant. She couldn't read the writing quite, though knew that Petite - which was on the sign - meant little. She also felt that La, much like in her native tongue of Spanish, meant the. The last word, though, looked much like a jumble of letters. The fourteen year old couldn't stare at it much longer, as the foreign words gave her a headache. At least she knew she had arrived. Now she needed to find help. Cassia had heard of foreigners being unkind to their tourists, so she needed to pick carefully. People who passed by gave her looks, her beret making er stand out, though she thought it might make her fit in. After scanning the small crowd, Cassia let her over-sized brown eyes settle on a rather lanky boy. She smiled in his direction and approached carefully, forming thoughts in her mouth.

She hoped he spoke more than just french, as she only spoke English and Spanish. While Spanish was a romance language, it wasn't exactly the same as French, many words being different. She looked at the chair across from him, and took a seat, uttering first the only bout of French she knew. "Bonjour." She said, though the pronunciation sounded wrong on her tongue, her Spanish accent making the word twist a bit. After waiting to be acknowledged, she continued. "¿Hables Español?" She waited momentarily before continuing. "Or do you speak English?" She then asked, her words slightly rushed. Cassia brushed blonde locks back, though they stuck to her skin still soaked with rain. The vase in front of her, which held a lone flower reflected her appearances, and she mentally confirmed that she looked like a drowned rat. Her lashes stuck together slightly, and her sweater drooped over her shoulder to reveal a thin strap underneath. The young woman had no time to be concerned with that, as she only needed to get information and leave. She wasn't even aware at this point that whilst standing in the crowd a skilled hand had taken her wallet, and with it the things she needed to continue on her journey.

 

[Blaise Chevotet]

Staring at his phone, Blaise cursed as the water droplets slipped from the awning over the porch and onto his screen. Rolling his eyes, Blaise used the sleeves of his jumper to wipe the water away, only to accidentally close the app of the game he was playing. Shaking his head, Blaise pocketed his phone. He was not getting any further on that game today. Whatever the hassle though, it hardly mattered as he needed to be getting to the restaurant to meet up with his dad. His mother and father no longer got along very well, so when he wanted to say 'hey', he pretty much had to organise things on his own. Unfortunately for him though, it was rather a wet day. Looking up at the sky and regretting it the moment he suffered a droplet to the eye, Blaise shook his head and quickly rubbed his eye. He was mostly unlucky in that aspect. Everything that could happen to him, often did. So with that knowledge in mind he stayed well away from the curb as he flagged down a taxi and then jumped straight in when one stopped. "Pour Le Petit creux reste se il vous plaît." In a matter of moments, regardless of the fact that Blaise had yet to correctly use his seatbelt, the taxi had immediately jumped away from the curb and started on its way to the destination. Le Petit Creux Reste was a lovely little restaurant that he occasionally met his father in whenever they met up. Often, though, his father was either late, or just didn't show up at all. Blaise hoped that this was not one of those times.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Blaise smiled slightly when he noted that he had a text from his brother Felix. Blaise shook his head in wonder and quickly replied before sticking it back into the pocket of his skinny jeans. The ride to the restaurant took less time then he expected and after paying the driver, Blaise turned and looked at the restaurant, ducked under cover and then pulled out his phone again to text his father. Walking into the restaurant, Blaise could not see him yet, so that meant he was probably going to be late... again. Rolling his eyes, Blaise slunk over to one of the empty tables and slid down in the seat so that he could pretend he didn't exist. However, it wasn't long until he was disturbed. When someone dropped into the seat in front of him, Blaise started and immediately sat up, dropping his phone to the table. "Dieu! Une jeune fille!" (God! A girl!) He immediately dropped his head so as not to look at her. He was not very comfortable around strangers, least of all girls. He was even worse around pretty girls. However as she spoke, Blaise realised exactly what was happening. "English... tourist?" Her strange accent was definitely not french, but he also could not place it. He didn't get out often anyway, so it mattered little. If she could not speak french however, they may be in for a problem. "Vous ne parlez pas français?" (You don't speak french?) What was she saying to him? What did she want? "Je ne vous comprends pas."(I don't understand you.)
​

 

[Cassia Rosatta]

Cassia hadn't even noticed the phone in his hands until it thudded to the table. She felt quite awful for making him drop it, but there was no sign of damage. Her dark orbs scanned up his arms to his face, and the teen girl felt her heart flutter slightly. Of course in her situation a crush was not something easily had. She often just took her time to admire those around her, and possibly have a small conversation. Generally Cassia didn't worry about much past that point regardless. After all, she really hadn't ever had a boyfriend for more than a week. she was still young though, and before passing away her parents made it very clear that she always had time to look for romance once she was done fulfilling her dream. Not that Cassia had much of an idea of what her dream was. She'd always wanted to be a vet, or perhaps a doctor. There was also the year she thought she'd be a dancer. There were so many dreams she wanted to fulfill, though she supposed everything - love, dreams, anything - would have to wait for her to be done with her travels. Well, her running away.

Finally words from the attractive man in front of her hit her ears. She had taken about a minute to realize that they were not in a language she knew. Her mouth dropped open slightly. They didn't speak the same language. So far - travelling across Spain - she hadn't run into something like that. For a moment she felt nausea. It then hit her, that her native tongue of Spanish was quite similar to french. If she could just get a translator or something this would be easier. Instead she got the best idea she had ever had. "Puedo tener tu teléphono?" She pointed at the cell phone, hoping that perhaps she could type something into it and translate it. It might be her luck that he was one of the few that didn't have any internet. If that was the case she had a backup plan. She would draw pictures on napkins. "Por lo menos no se puede entender si te llamo atractivo." (At least you can't understand if i call you attractive) She muttered to herself, cheering herself up the best she could. It was true, and truer yet she hadn't really see anyone quite like him. His large, brown eyes similar to hers. She couldn't help but think that the shape of his thin lips were oddly attractive, adding to a goofy charm. At least if he could help her it looked as if he may be nice.

 

[Blaise Chevotet]

Blaise was not at all used to having people randomly speak to him, least of all a girl, even more rarely was it a pretty girl. He had one best friend that he spoke to all the time, Remy, but other then for need, he rarely spoke to many other people. There wasn't any particular reason for it, though his crippling shyness around girls obviously had something to do with it. The girl sitting across from him was no exception and so regardless of her talking to him, he kept his head down. What was she saying? Telephono? Telephono? She was speaking Spanish right? She mentioned that earlier hadn't she? Blaise had never been particularly good with languages unfortunately. Probably why in all his two years of learning english, he couldn't remember any of it. Maybe one or two things, but that was it. His father had been pretty disappointed in him for that. "Oh , Telephono . Vous voulez dire que mon téléphone portable?" (Oh, teléphono. You mean my cell phone?) She was, after all, pointing at his phone. Biting his lip, Blaise picked up the phone and unlocked it before pushing it over to her. What did she want it for? Perhaps she wished to make a call? It was a good thing that the phone had symbols, because it was all written in french. She muttered something under her breath and Blaise creased his brow as he tried to figure out what she had said. He didn't really recognise any of those words. She had dropped off slightly at the end too, so he hadn't heard the last part of her sentence. He hoped it wasn't some sort of question, because he could not understand a word she was saying.

Finally, Blaise looked up at her, wanting to see what she was actually doing with his phone, and he was floored. She was gorgeous. She had wavy blonde hair, that looked like it was the softest thing he would ever touch. He didn't even bother looking at anything else. Immediately he thrust his head back down and tried to quell the panic that was inching up and out of his body. He was in the middle of a restaurant, he couldn't afford to freak out about a girl. This was ridiculous, how was he supposed to help this poor girl, who was obviously lost, considering she couldn't even speak the language. How was he going to help her if he couldn't even look at her? He wished his father would show up already, he could speak english, he would know what to do. Daniel even! He had cousins in New Zealand didn't he? Surely he would be able to speak english. Maybe he could ring him and... oh yeah, the girl had his phone. What on Earth was he supposed to do now? Was there a translation charm? Well it would hardly matter, seeing as he'd left his wand at home. He couldn't just take it out in the middle of a muggle restaurant. Wow, that sounded weird. God, what was she doing over there anyway? Of all the tables, why'd she have to pick him? Keeping his head down, Blaise spoke to her, maybe he could try and communicate. "Uh... lost?" Was she lost? Maybe he could help her find her way? Not looking at her of course, because he would freak out... probably.
​

 

[Cassia Rosatta]

The boy spoke french back, and she recognized the word portable, and telephone. Besides that he shoved it over to her and she took hold of it in her petite hands. It was awkward to hold, and the remnants of her fake nails clicked the screen gently as she attempted to get to a translator. She was lucky enough to see that there were symbols for the internet, and clicked her way through. Her typing took the longest of everything. She had to choose words carefully when translating. She tried hard to find the best Spanish words, before clicking it over to French. She didn't bother proof reading, having head the boy's question about being lost. In her mind she saw on the screen, "Yes, I'm lost. I'm travelling alone to see family and i need to find a place to stay. Do you know of any hostels." True a hostel was less than safe in a place like this, especially for a fourteen year old girl. However, Cassia didn't have much of a choice in this matter. She needed somewhere inexpensive to make her money last. She was unaware at this point that the boy would be reading the slightly garbled mess. The slang she had used made the message a bit less that salvageable, reading 'Lost, I need to stay with a hostel, know you?'. If there was anything to redeem the challenged message, it was that translator that made all the difference.

Cassia glanced up at the brunette, biting her lower lip. The chapped skin came slightly loose, and she cursed herself for not packing any chapstick. She tried to take as few things as possible before leaving, and was slightly ashamed at herself for taking money from her God-Parents. She was sure that if she didn't get moving soon she would be in trouble. The site of a policeman made her heart skip a beat, and she felt clammy. There was no way they were looking for her. "Come here." She said in a hushed tone, grabbing his hand a tugging him out of his chair. Though her physique was small, she was able to pull him up and down the street to a rather secluded ally, under some apartment side balconies. She then turned to him, her eyes expecting an answer from him regarding her message. She hadn't yet dropped his large hand, for worry that she would have to move away again if followed by the police. she was sure she could find more help, but something drew her to this boy. Besides that, the less she interacted with other people, the better off she was. There wouldn't be as many witnesses to know where she was going, or where she had been. it was the same reason she didn't have her own phone with her. The tracker in that would give her away, as would any credit or debit cards. She was strictly cash and the clothing in her bag and on her back.

 

[Blaise Chevotet]

Blaise could hear the girl's nails as they tapped away at his phone. He kind of hoped that she didn't scratch the screen. Well, he hoped she didn't make it worse, considering it already had a couple of scratches for various reasons. One or two of them were because he dropped it whilst trying to find his glasses. He was so forgetful when it came to those. Well, he supposed he forgot them on purpose because he thought that they made him look like even more of a dork then he was already, still, he got headaches without them. She stopped typing and Blaise frowned. So she wasn't calling anyone then? He reached over and retrieved his phone, looking down at the app she had open. She'd googled a translator. Okay, that was actually smart. He hadn't thought to do that. Wow, two months back at school and he was already forgetting things like this. Blaise looked back down at the words and backspaced them, attempting to type his own message back to the girl. He was unable to do so however, because not three seconds later, the girl was grabbing his hand and tugging him out of his chair and away from the restaurant. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. He didn't know what he was supposed to do now.

Blaise had no idea why they were running, nor where they were running too, but he was very conscious of both keeping his phone safe and the fact that his hand was being held, rather tightly, by a strange girl. Finally they came to a stop, in an alley way no less, and Blaise stared at the hand in his. She obviously wanted something. Was it just help she was after? He could tell she was looking at him, despite not actually returning the favour and so he looked back at his phone again. What had it said? A Hostel? She wanted to find a Hostel? Like a sex house? Blaise carefully looked up at her. She looked a little young for... but then what would he know? For that matter, wasn't she too pretty to be anywhere near him? Perhaps she was a daughter of one of the workers? Well, he didn't know where any were... maybe he could ask his cousin? Would Daniel even know? Surely his boyfriend would never approve? He began to type a message, one handed, into his phone. He really wished she would let him go. He was beginning to misspell the words now and it was getting more annoying. He looked at his phone, handing it back to her when he was finished. The only problem with these apps was the fact that their translation systems were a little... eschew. They never seemed to get it quite right. He hoped that what he had written came across correctly for her. He had attempted to say something along the lines of, I've never been to a hostel, I wouldn't even know where to look. But for all he knew, it probably said, I'm never wouldn't look, been a hostel. In fact, it probably definitely said that. He stared back down at his hand. "Ce est si doux." (It's so soft)
​

 

[Cassia Rosatta]

The sound of a vespa speeding by them made Cassia jump slightly more. Something about seeing the cop had put the poor teen on high alert. 'No one is looking for you, you are fine.' She reminded herself over and over, trying to convince herself that she wasn't about to get arrested and shipped back to Spain. She watched from the alley with the boy clicking away, one handed on his phone. The police man walked by the small path and didn't even glance their way. Cassia held her breath for the time it took the policeman to pass, and then counted to five before letting all of the air drain from her mouth. Now that they were safe for now, she turned back to the boy - though she still didn't release his hand. There was something so comforting about human contact, especially hand holding, that told her she would want to do it for longer than she was probably allowed. After all, as soon as he realized that she was still gently gripping his large hand, he'd probably yank away. So for that moment, as they stood under the balcony that shielded them from the rain, she just watched him, hand locked in place.

She took his phone when it was once more offered to her and sighed. it made no sense. She had long forgotten that translators weren't always the best. She released his hand in that moment, reaching into her small book back and rummaging past clothing to find an old Spanish to French dictionary. She looked through and found what she needed to ask him about. Slowly she spoke attempting to pronounce the words right, "Un hôtel ou une auberge." Her Spanish accent was out of place with the pronunciation, but she was sure she got the point across. Stray winds blew some rain at them, and she closed her book and offered it to him. She then reached back into her pocket, remembering that she had some spare receipts to write on so she wouldn't need to embarrass herself attempting to speak the language. With hand in her pocket she made a horrified gasping noise, and turned the pockets inside out. she then dropped her backpack to the wet ground quickly, pulling out her clothing, uncaring that they too landed on the wet ground. She was sure at this point, drenched to the bone and pulling clothing out of a bag, that she looked insane. However, her sanity level didn't matter to her when she realized her wallet was missing. This day couldn't have gotten an worse, and she couldn't help but think this was the end of her journey. Perhaps for the best, as she wasn't sure where she was going to go after Paris. She hadn't originally intended on crying in front of anyone on this trip, but now realizing that she had only 90 euros to her name she couldn't help it. She was days away from her home, she had no one to go back to but the God Parents that were breaking her perfet family apart. And now, she was standing there with some strange man who didn't speak her language, and probably wasn't going to help her anyways. She began shoving clothing back into her bag, cursing in Spanish. "Mi cartera se ha ido, estoy solo , esta fue la peor idea que he tenido . Y no tienes idea de lo que estoy diciendo y probablemente piense que estoy loco. Yo sólo debería estar alcanzado por un rayo ." (My wallet 's gone, I'm alone, it was the worst idea I've ever had. And you have no idea what I say and you probably think I'm crazy. I should be struck by lightning). She finished ranting and looked up at him with red eyes, close to just curling up in a ball and mustered the best she could in English. "I really need your help."

 

[Blaise Chevotet]

This was most definitely not a typical day for Blaise. He was supposed to be waiting in that restaurant for his father. Now he was in the middle of a rather shifty looking alley with some girl he just met, swapping sentences on a phone that translated like it was from the stone age. he could barely understand the translated phrases and it was only because he had a friend that was so bad at grammar that he was able to forgive this annoyance. It wasn't like it was the girl's fault. The girl. He would need to figure out how to ask her for a name, or something. Referring to her as "the girl" just felt demeaning in so many ways. He had hardly even spoken to a girl before though, let alone asked one for their name. Then of course there was the problem of translation issues. He wasn't sure how this was going to work, but he was determined to see it through. He wasn't doing anything but waiting on his father anyway, and God only knew how long that was going to take. God, Merlin, whoever. Once he'd handed back the phone, it was obvious that the translation wasn't quite right. Sighing, Blaise shrugged, "Sorry, je ne sais pas quoi d'autre à essayer." (Sorry, I don't know what else to try.) If his phone wasn't working, that was all he could think of to try. Not that she could understand what he was trying to tell her anyway. Whose idea was it to make languages different anyway? Everyone should just learn to speak French and be done with it. "Langues. Il suce." (Languages. It sucks.) Suddenly though, the girl started to riffle through her bag and tugged out a book. Was that a translation dictionary? Why hadn't she thought of that before? A hotel or hostel. Oh! Not a sex hostel. That was a little embarrassing. A blush rode up Blaise's cheeks as he realised his mistake. She'd let go of his hand though. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

She handed her book to him and as he was about to flick through the pages, to try and figure out how to say that there were no cheap ones around here, she suddenly made a horrified noise and Blaise was forced to step back as she threw things out of her bag unceremoniously. What was she doing? Clothes were dumped onto the wet ground as the girl immediately dropped to the ground. She was looking for something, and it appeared that she could not find it. Blaise didn't know what to do, how to handle this situation, so he just watched her. She looked like she was about to cry. She was talking to him, muttering really but he had no idea what she was saying. He picked up the word, loco, which he was pretty sure meant crazy. Apart from that she was basically speaking gibberish as far as he was concerned. Well, she certainly did seem a little crazy. Considering he'd only met her like five minutes ago and they'd gone from casual conversation to alley dwelling tears. What a day it had been and it wasn't even night yet. Looking down at the mess she had created. Blaise listened carefully as she spoke to him in what he was sure was English. Help. He knew that word. Whether it was French, Spanish or Vulcan, Help was universal. Pitying her, Blaise leaned down and opened the book in front of him, searching for the right phrase. When he had found it, he pointed it out to her. Cualquier cosa que necesite, sólo hay que preguntar. (Anything you need, just ask.) He would help her, not because she was pretty or a girl, but because she was soaked, sitting in the middle of an alleyway with her clothes everywhere and she had asked him. It was the least he could do.

​

 

[Cassia Rosatta]

Cassia felt beyond pathetic at this point. She wanted to be an adult, and be seen as an adult. Adults didn't loose their wallets, or cry in the rain. They didn't need help from strangers, and probably didn't talk to strangers. Cassia can remember a time in which she was consistently yelled at by her parents for talking to strangers, wanting to know everything bout them. She was always so hyper active and she had a want for the knowledge of others. For her age she was mature in the way that she communicated. This situation was very different though. She felt like she was seven inches tall and couldn't grow any. She couldn't bring herself to stand, listening to the french words that rolled expertly off his tongue. Maybe if she wasn't in such distress she would realize just how beautiful the words sounded coming off his lips. Perhaps at a later date she would consider the way his baritone voice sounded. She laughed slightly at his words. "I understood that." She spoke about his comment on languages sucking. It sounded close enough to the term in Spanish and English for her to know. She felt hopeless and began to grab her things out of the rain. Her jeans from her bag were soaked now, and she shoved them back in the book bag with a squish. Gathering her clothing from around her she sniffled back some tears.

Finally she was able to gather up all of her clothing. The bag was heavier now, and she wouldn't be able to put her book in there since it was so wet. Looking up with tear stained cheeks she glanced at the paper. She then took the book from him to look at the sentence. Her brown eyes slowly upturned to him and she set the book on the patch of dry bag there was. She then jumped up, and wrapped her thin arms around his waist. Her head pressed into his chest, and she repeated thank you in the two languages she knew. Her wet form pressed against him as she cried, relieved that she would have help. She knew his shirt was probably soaked where her head was, and it probably looked strange the way she hugged him in the alley. She didn't care though, she didn't know how else to say thanks. Finally, feeling her gratitude had passed, she pulled back and grabbed the book, flipping through it. She found the words she needed and showed him the words in order to make the sentence. Someone took my wallet, where can I stay for 90 Euros? Se hoped he had an answer, looking at him to try and make as much eye contact as she could. "Me llamo Cassia." She then said, figuring after what just happened the least she could do was introduce herself.

 

[Blaise Chevotet]

There were many things that Blaise considered to be normal, the sun, the wind rushing through the trees, the ground soaking up water, rivers running into oceans and people communicating. However, a young girl wrapping her arms around his torso was not an experience he was prepared for. Anyone wrapping their arms around him as kind of a foreign concept if he was honest. Still, he supposed he couldn't just leave her hanging and so carefully he stood up awkwardly, as she was still clinging to him, and wrapped his arms around her very tentatively. He was barely touching her really. Who knew how young she was. They were standing in a suspicious alleyway hugging. He could get arrested! She was also very wet, but rain would do that. He looked up and noticed that they were mostly under a cover now, which he guess explained the lack of droplets falling upon them at the moment. Well, he supposed it could have been worse. Rain wasn't so bad when you remembered that it was just water. Falling water, but water all the same. The girl was crying now, he noticed. How long had she been doing that? Still he could not bring himself to touch her however. He didn't know her and what if she didn't want him to touch her? He didn't have her permission to do so.

Soon, thankfully, Blaise had control of his body again and raised an eyebrow when the girl took the book. What more could she possibly need to know? He looked down at the passage she was pointing to and frowned. Some-one stole her wallet and she now only had ninety euros to her name. That was horrible. He shook his head. Even if there was somewhere around here where she could stay, he didn't know about it. There was nothing he could tell her. She then mentioned that her name was Cassia. He quite liked that name. Well, he assumed that was what Me llamo, Cassia, meant. He could have been wrong of course. He pointed to himself. "Blaise." Then he frowned again and shrugged. "Je sues désolé, il n'y a nulle part ici vous pourriez aller." Then he slapped his forehead. She still couldn't speak french, what was he even saying. He looked down at her book and read to the words. "Lo siento, no hay ningún lugar por aquí se puede ir." (I'm sorry, there is nowhere around here for you to stay) He then pointed to himself. "Buscar Alojamiento?" (Spare room?) He hoped he didn't sound creepy.
​

 

[Cassia Rosatta]

Cassia's emotional state could only be described as a hot mess. Now feeling that the rain was letting up, the pounding on the balcony above them slowly quieting, she decided to ring out her hair. She brought it to the side of her and squeezed a little, the sound of all the water dropping to the ground a strange sound of comfort for her. As if she was home and had just finished a shower. "Blaise, me gusta." She commented with a faint smile on her lips. Though the occasional tear still slipped over the brim of her eye, she felt much better knowing that he was going to help her find a place to stay. Perhaps the hotel would have a way for her to try or clean her clothing. After all, it was all that she had with her. It wasn't until the boy in front of her spoke his broken Spanish, that she once again felt helpless. She covered her face for a moment, resisting the urge to scream out in frustration. However, as he spoke one more time, a ray of hope in the form of sunlight shined down on the two of them. Cassia looked up at the boy, and searched his face for something - though she didn't know what. Maybe she was looking for a reason to say no. He was a stranger, she knew only his name. He could be with the drug cartel, or be a member of a gang. There were a hundred options about what kind of person he could be, and none of them seemed good to her.

In the window behind the two of them she caught sight of herself. Though the reflection was slightly blurred, she knew that she looked like the definition of desperation. She was soaked, and shivering. She didn't know what else she could do other than say yes. She had no choice at this point. "You are so kind." She said with tears in her large, brown eyes. She then held her arms out for a hug, giving him fair warning before once again hugging the man in front of her. "I'll pay you back somehow." She whispered against his shirt, which was wet with her tears and from the rain. Cassia didn't know how, but she knew that she would pay this man back if it cost her her life. So long as she was not shipped back to Spain.

---

FIN

In the end Blaise somehow managed to convince his dad to take the very scared and emotional Cassia back to their house, though how the future would play out was a mystery. All that Cassia knew was that she owed this boy her life now.​