#ons is to me what the firstborn son who was talented in school then drops out and becomes a druggie is to an asian family

[rosevanhelsing]

FANFIC. LORD OF CHRISTMASLAND

Chapter 2

By the time Charlie turned seventeen, he was already a tall, handsome young man and he told Abe.

- Abe,  my friend, I want to get out of the Parnassus. I need to see a little of the world.

- All right. Do what you want. I've heard of a driver's school not far from here. You could sign up, they are looking for young people to learn to drive cars and act as drivers for rich people. It's a good job and I've heard it's booming.

Charlie thought  about it and said:

- I'll try it.

Charlie went to school, hoping he didn't have to pay a lot to sign up. The director of this said:

- Let's see if you have what it takes to be a driver. I know right away if someone is good or bad for this. If you are not worth it, I recommend that you do not waste your time.

He took Charlie to a battered Ford T, teach  him the basics to drive a car and watched to see what happened. Most of the students would lock or add a new dent to the car, but the principal dropped his cigarette from his mouth when he saw young Manx drive the car as if he had driven it all his life.

- Jesus Christ!  Boy, you have a natural talent for this. I have no doubt that you will be our best student.

Charlie smiled, at last some talent was recognized and he had found his calling. Charlie spent a few months in the driver’s school and he became the best student.

However, during the months that Charlie spent there, he was only cordial with his companions but did not establish a true friendship with any of them, despite the fact that some like Fabrizio Renaldo tried. His companions invited him from time to time to have a drink and he went with them with great pleasure but he always refused to go to whorehouses  even though others saw him as strange

One day the school principal gathered his students together and said:

- Guys, tomorrow may be a great opportunity for you. A lot of rich men will come looking for young meat to drive their luxury cars. Prove our worth and they will hire you. So tomorrow I want you clean and firm first thing in the morning.

When most of them left, Charlie stayed and said:

- Mr…

- What's wrong, Manx?

- I only have two changes of clothes and none decent for tomorrow.

The school principal looked at him briefly and smiled:

- Come. I will find something for you. I will not allow my best student not to get a job because he has no clothes.

The director took him to his office and gave him a chauffeur's uniform. It was a long black double-breasted jacket, white shirt, dark pants, and a cap. Charlie came back in the suit and the director smiled:

- You looks good. Keep the suit. I had bought this uniform for my son but he was not fit  for this job and dedicated himself to something else.

- But sir ...

- I insist.

Charlie nodded and thanked her profusely for the gift. The next day, several businessmen showed up. Two of them went to the school principal asking for the best students. The director asked them to accompany them and said:

- All the boys of the last class are excellent drivers, if they want I will tell them to accompany them somewhere to check it out. But these two, he said, placing his hands on Charlie and Fabrizio's shoulders are the best.

One of the visitors, who was Italian and rumors indicated that he was part of the Italian Camorra, addressed Fabrizio and said:

- Son, how about your Italian?

-Il mio italiano è perfetto signore *

- And how about your discretion?

- Your affairs do not concern me and will not leave my mouth.

The man smiled and said:

- I'll take this boy for a ride.

- You won't be disappointed.

Fabrizio went with the man to a white vehicle, Charlie did not recognize the Brand of the car but he assumed it was a European model, probably Italian, while Mr. Haber gazed directly at Charlie, he lowered his  look although Haber was shorter than him .

The director said:

- Meanwhile Mr. Haber, who had watched Charlie for a while, looked directly at him and Charlie lowered his gaze shyly even though Mr. Haber was shorter than him.

 - Will he be able to drive my new model car?

- Charlie has a natural gift for driving, you'll see.

Charlie followed Mr. Haber to his vehicle, a beautiful maroon-colored Packard. Next to the car were two girls and a boy a little older than Charlie.

- These are my daughters. Beatrice, my firstborn, and my little Cassandra. This is Robert, Beatrice's fiancé.

Cassandra smiled at Charlie, he blushed and looked down , causing Cassie to laugh softly.

"He's handsome," Cassie whispered to her sister.

[thetwojamies]

Seven is the Lucky Charm

A birthday present for our friend Victoria, actually based on her own family.

Jamie sat as comfortable as he could on the hard chairs of the waiting room. The old school nuns who ruled the hispital still had a rule against fathers going into the labour rooms but, as much as he’d love been beside Claire on that magical moment, he’ll comply with the rules. After all it was the same team who had basically saved the lifes of his wife and firstborn daughter after a complcated birth, he would never argue with them after that.

There were only other father-to-be with him on the room, a young lad pacing nervously the length of the room.

‘Ye are goin’ to drill a hole through the floor.’ Jamie said, trying to calm the man.

'Aye, I ken, but I canna keep still.’ The man answered, 'Why they dinna let us in, 'tis bloody 2018.’

'I ken, right?’ Jamie said, gesturing for the man to sit on the next chair. 'Mother Hildegard still thinks birth is a women’s only affair. First bairn?’

'Aye, we didna plan it so soon.’ Said the man 'We were fool on our honeymoon.’

'Mine is the seventh.’ Jamie said proudly, the eyes of the lad growing three sizes bigger.

'Seventh? I still canna imagine myself being father of one bairn, let alone seven. Ally would probably kill me if I told her about have more than three.’

'Well, Claire and I didna plan it either.’ Jamie said, taking his phone put of his jacket and looking for his family photos. 'We just decided to let God give us all the bairns he felt convenient. Here you have my bairns.’

'All of them are lasses?’ The man asked at seeing the photo of six girls, three brown haired, three red haired, expanding from teen to toddlerhood.

'Och, aye. We’re good at making them for what it looks.’ Jamie proudly answered him.

Faith was fifteen, in the photo, clutching Adso, the family’s cat. The spit of her mother in both looks and temperament. She already had expressed her desires of follow Claire’s steps on the medical field and dotted on her sisters with a sense of responsability and nurture Jamie wished he had had at her age, even when it could look a bit bossy sometimes with her sisters, or that is what they thought.

Brianna, Bree, was next, at barely thirteen she was almost as tall as her elder sister and the living image of her late grandmother, also inheriting her artistic skills. She was stubborn as only a Fraser could be but also fiercely loyal to her family and friends. As it showed the photo of her, supporting her best friend Roger, on his first day as the captain of the school’s football team.

Number three was Morag, 10 years old at the moment and another stubborn ginger Scot since the day she was born, crying louder than any of their sister ever had done. She was the tomboy of the family, prefering short hair and sport clothes to her sisters’ dresses. The photo showed her after one of competitions, gold medal hanging on her neck, she had a talent for Athletics and her trainer was even sure she could make into profesionalism one day.

After the boisterous Faith, Bree and Morag, Julia, almost eight-years-old, was the shyest and more quiet, always nose deep a book, as the photo showed, embracing her favourite Harry Potter book while dressed as Hermione for a Halloween party past year, her mother’s brown curls on full swing.

Elizabeth’s special talent and love seemed to be music. Barely six-years-old, her birthday had been just the week before, was already receiving piano classes. Claire suspected the talent came from her mother, who had passed away when she was barely Lizzie’s, the family nickname, age but of whom she got a photo of her playing the piano just like the girl was doing on Jamie’s picture of her.

The youngest, up to this day, was Iona, just two and half years old. The ginger apple on her godfather’s eye, being born even on the same day Murtagh had been, was all giggles and smiles and loving nothing else as get tickles, her stuffed animals and being read by her parents, sisters or Murtagh. Jamie loved specially the photo he had of her smearing cake all over Murtagh’s face on their shared birthday.

'They look lovely, mate, ye’re a lucky man.’ The man said to him.

'Aye, thank ye.’

'I dinna ken how yon wife and ye still have energy to try for more. People must make ye a lot of 'go for the boy’ jokes.’

'Ye canna imagine the amount of jokes, aye.’ Jamie said with a laugh. 'Ten years worth of them.’

Of course Jamie would’ve loved to have a son, he thought on that sometimes, above all watching his brother-in-law with his sons, but at the same time, he would never change his lasses for all the riches in the World. They, and Claire, were his life, and the new lass would provide even more love to the family.

'Jamie!’ Sister Marta, a young nun from a sister convent on Nicaragua who was living and studying at the Glasgow hospital. The man thought it weird she had used his first name, before remember he had done this six times already and he must be known in the place. 'Claire sends me for you.’

'The bairn has finally been born.’ Jamie said standing up and going to join the sister. 'The lass took her time this time. Morag and Lizzie basically dropped down after less than an hour.

'Yes, Claire wants to see you now.’ Sister Marta answered him with a cheeky smile.

'Congratulations are in order then man.’ The man said to him, shaking his hand.

'To ye too, I hope yon bairn is born soon.’

Jamie followed Sister Marta to one of the rooms where Claire and the bairn had been installed after the birth.

'A Dhia’ Jamie gasped after see Claire with not one but two small bundles at her arms, each one of them with a tuft of red hair showing through their baby caps.

'We were commenting now about our little surprise here.’ Sister Hildegard said to him.

'One of the boys decided to play hide and seek using his brother.’ Claire said, smiling widely at the babies on her arms.

The information seemed to be sinking slowly into Jamie’s mind 'Did ye just say…?

'Yes, Jamie, we finally did it.’ Claire said to him 'Come here to meet your sons.’

Second part tomorrow

[official-nahl-blog]

The Making of Sophie Fournier: 1

A Snapshot of Sophie’s Childhood

Growing up in Montreal, hockey was a way of life. Trading cards served as currency in grade school, trick shots were a way to move up the popularity ladder, and being able to recite the Mammoths’ roster was a necessity.

On Sundays, if there was an early afternoon game, Pierre was allowed to wear his jersey to church, and his maman would fill a crock pot and bring it with them to plug in while Pierre had to sit on an uncomfortable pew. But after the sermon, everyone piled into the basement to eat and watch the game.

It was the only time anyone was allowed to swear in church.

Pierre played hockey, because everyone played. He wasn’t particularly talented, though. His maman told him elite athletes need two things; talent and drive. He had plenty of the latter but not enough of the former.

Colby, his firstborn, shows promise as a goalie, but he doesn’t have the drive to take his talent to the next level. Pierre blames himself for it, and he’s determined not to make the same mistake with Sophie. While Colby shows flashes of greatness, Sophie’s a natural from the first time she puts skates on. But her path is going to be a tough one, and she’ll need thick skin and an indomitable will to make it.

Sophie’s grows up watching the Montreal Mammoths’ dominant Cup run on the thick rug of her grandparents’ living room. Her first word was, “Cup” spoken as the Maple Cup was lifted high, lights from the arena flashing off the metal.

Pierre knew then his daughter was going to be a great hockey player.

Sophie still doesn’t understand what it would mean for her to play in the NAHL, but she knows she wants to lift the Cup the way Bobby Brindle did, year after year. Pierre knows how difficult it will be for Sophie to play in the NAHL which isn’t co-ed yet like many of its European counterparts. He knows there’s a possibility she could be the first girl to play in the NAHL, and he knows it’s up to him to prepare her.

Given the choice, Sophie wouldn’t do anything besides skate and sleep, and he can use that.

Pierre stands on the front step, hands tucked into his pockets as Colby and Sophie play in the driveway.  Colby’s in partial gear as he guards the net, and Sophie’s focused as she attacks, drawing Colby away from his goal then going around him and tapping the ball in, easy as anything.

She’s even better on the ice, but this is good practice.

“Score on the next one,” Pierre says.

Colby tosses Sophie the bright orange ball and Sophie carries it back to the end of their driveway. She comes at the net from the side, but when she gets close, the ball rolls off the curve of her stick. She gathers it back, but her shot’s shaky, and Colby stops it with ease.

“Time to come in,” Pierre says.

Sophie turns her head, mouth falling open in outrage. “But we just got outside!”

“You should’ve scored.”

Sophie’s eyes, big and blue like her mother’s, fill with tears. It’s something they’re going to have to work on, the way she cries so easily. “But hockey,” she says, longing.

Pierre drops down to one knee and beckons Sophie to him. She drags her feet on the ground and her stick behind her, but she stops in front of her dad, cheeks flushed from the sun. “If you’re not the best then you don’t get to play. Do you understand?”

Sophie nods, serious, but Pierre knows she doesn’t understand yet. She will though, he’ll make sure of it.

Pierre pats her head, and says, “You can do stick drills inside or you can work with the reflex ball, but no more street hockey until tomorrow.”

“But--”

“What did I just tell you?”

“If I’m not the best then I don’t get to play,” she dutifully repeats back. “If I work hard in the basement, maybe I’ll score that one tomorrow?”

“I want you to be the best you can be.”

“Okay.”

Sophie waves to her brother then goes inside the house.

“Who am I going to play with now?” Colby asks.

“Let me get my stick,” Pierre answers.

They only play for half an hour, Colby’s eyebrows pulling together with each shot Pierre takes until there’s a permanent frown on his face. He gets sloppy with his glove, but Colby’s always been harder to motivate than Sophie.

When Pierre says, “Alright, pack it in,” Colby goes without complaint. He looks relieved be be sent inside.

Inside, Ellen clasps her son’s head between her hands and drops a kiss to his forehead before she tells him, “Dinner’s on the table. I was about to get you.”

“Yes, Mom.” Colby wriggles out of her hands and slips into the kitchen.

And then Ellen turns to her husband, hands planted on her hips. “You want to tell me why our daughter said she couldn’t come up to dinner until she was ‘the best’?”

“She’s practicing,” Pierre says.

“You sent her inside for missing a goal?” Ellen keeps her voice down, but she’s angry all the same. “She was playing with her brother. The game is about fun.”

“She needs to learn now if she’s not good enough she won’t get to play.”

“She’s six!”

“Do you want her to learn when she’s thirteen and it’s too late? When she’s fifteen? When she’s pinned her dreams on the NAHL, and they don’t invite her to the draft? She has to be the best, Ellen, and I think she can be.”

Ellen’s eyes narrow. “Her dreams, Pierre? Or yours?”

Ellen overcooks his chicken, but the extra chewiness is worth it when, tomorrow, Sophie scores on all three of her make it or come inside shots.