The New Girl

Chapter 3

Stevie

She was at a loss for words. How could he not know by now? The way her voice sounded should have gave it off.

From what her Aunt had told her, a majority of people frown and shy away from half people like her. What she couldn't understand was, how the sound of her voice hadn't chased him away yet.

"You haven't seen my face. And you don't want too. I can promise you that." she wanted to be left alone. At least she thought she did.

"From the half I can see, I'm sure it looks just as pretty."

"At least you're straight forward."

"That's me. Mr. Straight-Forward."

"And here I thought your last name was Rizzo? Like that one gang leader."

He looked at her in shock.

She raised her eyebrow, wondering when he was going to run for the hills.

"How would you figure he's a gang leader and not a mob boss?" he finally choked out.

"What's the difference these days?"

He opened his mouth and shut it again. After a moment, he responded.

"Mobs are more likely to get away with crimes and are far more organized?"

"True but unless Mr. Rizzo is an old school Mafioso Boss, these days they are all the same."

"What's that supposed to mean?" his voice gave off his slight offence.

"Meaning criminals are criminals. Mafia may just me money mongrels and offering quote on quote "protection" to outsiders, they just want the money. Nothing else. Extortion is still a crime. Even if minor."

"Look Stevie, I.... I'm not my dad and never will be."

"I don't know. Time will tell on that one. But I'm sure he said the same things to your mother before he got reeled in to the whole mess."

"How do you know so much?"

"You really don't want to know, Jimmy."

*******

Jimmy

He tried hiding the sting of her criticism, but her words came out harsh.

"I got to go."

He gathered his belongings and left the library. Taking the stairs to the top of the school, he sat in the school's rooftop garden. He never had a green thumb, every plant he's ever gotten died from lack of water or over watering them, yet somehow he felt peace in any garden or natural, outdoor setting.

In a way, he felt relieved, in another way, strange. Usually, the people who knew who he was related to, sweeped and swooned over the fact that, yes maybe illegally, he had money. Yet somehow, she frowned on it.

His father would have called her every name in the book for her disapproval of his covet of money. But something about the way she said what she said hit home.

'... Criminals are still criminals....'

He knew, way deep down, she was right.