Ari DARK ON THE OUTSIDE (insert disclaimers here) =====CHAPTER 16: AN OLD BLUE FLAME===== ANDERSON HOUSE THE NEXT MORNING It was around 11:00 when Owen woke up and came down to break- fast. For being a heavy sleeper, the smell of pancakes and maple syrup woke him up surprisingly easy. He walked lazily into the kitchen. "Morning Amy, Mrs. Anderson," he said with a yawn. "Well you're up early," Mrs. Anderson said. He looked over right into Amy's eyes, and the two smiled at each other. "Hey," she said to Owen quietly. "Hi," came the reply. He looked at the table and the stack of mail sitting there. "Anything for me?" "Haven't got a chance to look at it," Dr. Anderson said. "You look." "Okay." Owen picked up the pile of mail - several books and a number of letters - and started to thumb through it. "Let's see..." the phone bill, "Bill..." credit card offers, "junk, junk, junk..." a letter addressed to Amy, "letter for Amy..." Then he got to the books. An issue of MIXX Zine, "Me..." another copy, "Amy..." volume 119 of Nintendo Power magazine, "Mine..." NEXT Generation magazine, "Me a- gain..." 100% independent PSM, "Me..." "Gee, you really get into video games don't you?" Amy asked. "Yep," Owen said as he flipped through the last few books, when he came across an abc Distributing catalog. "I guess this is yours," Owen said to Mrs. Anderson. After he handed it to her, he came across ...a Victoria's Secret catalog? He took a good look at both covers. "Who does this belong to?" he asked, embarassed. But then, Amy snatched it out of his hand, making his long, un- tamed hair fly up, and nearly *shouting* "GIMME that!" As the blue- haired girl folded up the catalog with the letter in it, Owen tried to grasp some kind of image of super-genius Amy Anderson dressed up in, say, the black, lace-trimmed teddy and matching thong lingerie outfit he caught a glimpse of on the back cover. he thought to himself.... "You alright?" Dr. Anderson asked with a smile ,which brought him out of his daze. He was at a loss for words. All Owen could say was "That was interesting." With all the superhero business that had gone one in the past seven months, he could only wonder if something like that would cause him to be a little...off.... After having breakfast and glancing through his new books, Owen headed back up to his room. His attention was focused on the Meet The PSM Staff section, when he heard some soft crying...heartbroken crying. Coming from Amy's room. He tossed his magazines onto the bed, and went back to the room. The door was cracked open, and he could see part of Amy sitting on her bed. "Amy?" But when he pushed the door open, he saw Amy sitting on her bed, curled up in a ball with her legs up to her chest, her head buried in her knees, and her hands on the backs of her knees. The letter she recieved lay right next to her. And a small, white card was right next to it. "Oh my god!" Owen said as he entered her. "Amy, what's wrong?" He sat down next to Amy, trying to comfort her the best he can. She leaned into him and cried in his shirt. "It's...it's..." Amy choked out. But she soon lost whatever control she had and cried more loudly. "Shhhhhhh..." Owen hushed as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. "It's alright." "What's so alright about it?!" she shouted, to Owen's look of surprise. "Please Amy," he started, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Calm down. You need to relax, I'm here, you can tell me what's wrong. I'll listen." Owen looked with his warm, gold eyes right into Amy's saddened, blue eyes, - now bloodshot and red due to her crying - wiped a stray tear off her streak-riddeled face, and listened intently as Amy emptied out her heart to her American houseguest. "Well..." she started, fighting back some new tears, "my boy- friend Greg wrote to me, that's who that letter was from." She hung her head. "And he said...he said..." "What did he say?" Owen asked, as he brushed a hair out of her eyes. "Well..." she started, "he travels alot with his dad and we don't get too much time to talk to one another in person so we write letters to each other..." she paused to take a breath, fighting back some more tears, "and he said that he doesn't wanna hear from me again and that he...he..." She couldn't hold it back anymore. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed more loudly. "That's okay Amy," he said as he comforted her again. "What else?" "Well, just read it!" Owen let go of Amy just long enough to reach over and pick up the letter. Tears formed some blotches on parts of the letter. He read it to himself... Dear Amy, I know I have not written to you in such a while. I have re- cieved all of your letters, and, like I said, haven't been able to re- ply to all of them. But this will be my last letter to you. Please stop writing to me. I have had enough of you. You are nothing more than a childish brainiac compared to the real beauty I've met. That's right, I've met someone. I am standing with her in the picture I enclosed with this letter. She's a real catch, isn't she? With that, I say goodbye, Amy Anderson. I hope you don't waste your life with whoever you may be with the same way I have wasted with you. Goodbye, Greg. (enclosure) Owen couldn't believe what he was reading. That scumbag! How could he leave someone as sweet as Amy for...he looked at the picture that was enclosed. It was face down, but when he turned it over and saw a short kid with a shaved head with his arm around a huge bodybuil- der chick, dressed in black leather head to toe...THIS?! "My god, she's bigger than ME!" Owen said. Then, he realized what he just said. "Oh...gee...I'm sorry Amy...for all of this." He walked out the door. "You want to be alone?" "Yes, please." Owen reluctantly left the room, and went back to his own. When he got in, he shut the door, and pulled out his pa- ger. The pager flipped open, and he pressed the crescent moon-shaped button. "Hello?" "Serena, are you there?" Owen asked. Serena had been at home in her room, looking over her homework. "Yeah. What's wrong, are you in trouble?" "No, but I gotta talk to you. It's about Amy." "Amy?" Serena sat up. "What's wrong?" "Well, she got a letter from some guy named Greg today. He said that it was over, he met someone and didn't wanna hear from her a- gain." "That's horrible!" "I know. You should see the dog he's with now!" "He sent a picture?" Owen nodded. "Amy must feel terrible. They go back a long way, you know." "That's what she told me. Hey are we still on for tonight?" "Yeah, Dave & Busters, tonight at eight." She paused. "Is Amy coming?" "Probably. Listen, can you try and talk to her tonight? She's really depressed and she needs someone to talk to." "Okay. I'll talk to her tonight." "Great." He was about to close the link, but he wanted to say one more thing. "Serena?" "Yeah?" A pause. "I'm worried about Amy." DAVE & BUSTERS TOKYO 8:OO THAT NIGHT As Serena, Darien, Chad, Owen, Amy, and the others wandered a- round the game section, playing pool, various video games, getting a drink or two, no one could help but notice Amy's...reluctance. It took Owen some coaxing for her to join him in a game of PuzzlePon, and even then - Owen could tell - she didn't have her heart into it. After what by Owen's regard would be a horrible loss, she went over to the bar. But then, she turned and saw a very familiar face.... "Hello Amy," he said. It was Greg. His head may have been shaved with just a little bit of fuzz left on top, but it was Greg. "Greg..." she started, holding back some tears. "What brings you here?" he said, waving his hand across his shaved head. "Like the new look?" Before Amy could answer, Owen called over to Amy. "Hey Amy!" He sat down next to her. "Hey listen, we need an eighth to play..." His eyes looked over at the guy sitting next to her. And recognized him from the photograph. "Who is this?" Greg asked of Owen. "Your new boyfriend?" "So you're Greg..." Owen said. "And who are you?" "My name's Owen." He looked right at him. "So you're the one who dumped this very lovely young lady for...who?" Greg looked out into the arcade. "Here she comes now." A big, muscular woman walked over, wearing a black halter top, which barely covered her breast implants. She also had on black short shorts, black boots, and she had black hair put up in a pony tail. Unlike Owen's, which hung down below his shoulders, hers was up sticking out the top of her head. She pushed some guys out of her way, walked up to Greg, and wrapped her arms around him. "I'd like you to meet Chyna." He looked at Amy and Owen. "Is- n't she beautiful?" "Sorry," Owen said, "but I've seen better. Amy's much better." Greg was pissed. "What is the matter with you?! Are you re- tarted or something?" He looked at him in shock, and looked at him all over. "Hey wait a minute...you're not from around here are you?" "No, why?" "Where are you from?" "I'm from Dove Grove, New Jersey." Nice job, Owen. Piss him off even more. "You...you're an A- merican!" "Something wrong with that?" "Yeah something's wrong with that! I remember what happend at the end of World War II! Your kind bombed our cities! Hundreds of thousands died because of you stinking Yankees!" Greg was making a big scene, and had drawn quite a crowd. "Dude, that was more than 50 years ago. My nation and yours are good friends and allies." "Friends? HAA! My grandparents died at Hiroshima! My great- uncle died defending Iwo Jima from you stinking Imperialist Yankees!" "My grandpa died at Iwo Jima too, and my other grandpa died at the Battle of the Bulge exterminating nazis - h-how did World War II get tied into this?!" He paused to shoo some of the onlookers away. "Look, just because your a friggin' giant doesn't mean you in- timidate me one bit!" "I'm not looking for a fight." Frustrated, Greg got up and left with Chyna. But he turned a- round once more to say to him "Don't let me catch either one of your faces around here again! Got it?!" ANDERSON HOUSE THAT NIGHT "I'm sorry about tonight, Owen," Amy said to Owen. "I forgot to tell him that he really hates Americans. And America in general," "It's not your fault," Owen said. "He's probably just blowing off steam. He obviously thinks that you found someone better than him, and he-" The phone rang. Amy reached over and picked it up. "Hello?" "Is Owen there?" the voice said, omniously. "It's for you," she said, handing him the phone. "Yeah?" "Did you even listen to a word I said?" "...Greg?" Amy looked at Owen in horror. "You're damn right! Don't think I'm not gonna back out on my word!" =====TO BE CONTINUED=====