Disclaimer: Alas, I still don't own Meet the Robinsons. Or Google. Or Pinocchio.

AN: Look who's still alive and approaching the end of college. If all goes well, I'll have my BA Spring 2018. Oh yeah! : DDD

Chapter 6

Franny frowned and pulled up her yellow rubber cleaning gloves. Mama had her scrubbing the bathroom. Which yes, definitely needed it before Gaston's graduation party, but…with two older brothers…ugh it was totally GROSS.

She poured some baking soda onto her sponge for the tough water stains in the corners. Her nose wrinkled; mold was creeping in behind her brothers' shampoo bottles.

No, what really had her rankled was that Mama never made Gaston or Art do this sort of stuff, even when they were the ones responsible for the mess! Whenever Franny questioned it, Mama would level a stern brown eyed look of disapproval and sniff that it wasn't their place.

Household work was woman's work. And it was Franny's duty to uphold tradition: which apparently was having a spotless, dust-free, no-grime bathroom.

How else would Franny land a good Italian husband?

Franny rolled her eyes as she squatted down to clean the faucet and drain, gagging a bit at all the dark hair clogging it.

Here she was, brilliant straight-A Franny, the Honor Roll student, reduced to a maid for her straight-C minus brothers. It wasn't fair.

She sighed and pulled the orange crate of cleaning supplies closer to the tub. She pulled out the roll of paper towels, trying to ignore her mother's voice in her head:

"Make each sheet count; we're not made of money, Franny."

On the bright side, Papa consented that Cornelius was welcome to join them at the party; great news, because she'd invited Cornelius before asking if it was okay.

Plus, Papa's agreement gave Franny the somewhat spiteful satisfaction of watching her mother blanch.

Since Franny was in kindergarten, Mama wanted to pair her up with Nicky, Isabelle's son.

Isabelle and Antonia had been friends since diapers. They went to school together. They'd worked together in summer jobs. They both got married the same year. Heck, they practically boasted how they were often pregnant at the same time—there were pictures of them both at Lamaze classes. Isabelle sometimes joked when they complained about broken vases and other various damages that Antonia was the lucky one: she only had two boys, while Isabelle had three.

"I swear la mia amica, I'm this close to replacing my glassware with plastic! This close!"

They were banking on Franny (as the only girl) to join their families officially.

Franny slammed down a bottle of Windex and glowered into a puddle of greenish liquid. Antonia had been (less than subtly) dropping hints all week.

"That Nicky is such a handsome boy."

Yeah, he was. But he had the IQ of a Furby.

"So obedient—always helping out at his Papa's restaurant."

"So close to your ag.e" Funny, how he was the same age as Cornelius, but Cornelius was deemed a bit too old.

"Fixed up his brother's old car, you remember the one. That Viata Fosco Marco left when he went to college. Very handy of Nicky, don't you think? So good to see young men that know how to repair things."

Franny had barely held in her contempt: if Cornelius had fixed it, its brakes wouldn't screech at every stop sign and the engine wouldn't sound like a dying walrus.

"You wear that yellow sundress Auntie bought you for your birthday last year. It's very nice. Tasteful."

Tasteful. Meaning the neckline went up past her collarbone. However, in a few hours' time Franny would be pleased to show her mom that the yellow dress was not an option.

A smug smile tugged the fourteen year old's pink lips. She'd tried it on that morning, her bust had literally defeated the fabric: the side seams had burst when she inhaled. She glanced down at her chest and gave a soft, victorious chuckle.

Mama: 0

Puberty: 1

"You WHAT!?"

Franny glanced up, startled by her father's angry tone. From the bathroom's open door (which she'd left open hoping to diminish some noxious cleaning fumes) she could see her dad's shadow—arms moving almost spastically in his outrage.

"I quit," was Gaston's eerily calm response.

"When? Why? NO, you go back tomorrow, after the party. I don't care what you have to do, you get that job back! You've already lost three this year!"

Something that sounded suspiciously like a 'pft whatever' was mumbled next and what seemed like footsteps walking away.

"Gaston! You come back here; I did not say we were finished. Gaston!"

Her father's loud, angry steps were in pursuit, "There doesn't even have to BE a barbeque, young man. Heaven knows your grades hardly merit it, you-"

The front door opened then slammed shut.

Franny folded the paper towel in her hands, trying to get the last available clean spot on it to put to use.

That whole exchange was her fault. She knew it! There was no way, he could've just left his job and there'd be no repercussion. She shouldn't have called him from the tournament. He shouldn't have come.

She pulled the shower curtain closed, blocking the tub from view as she sat down—Knees pulled up under her chin.

If she told her parents what happened, Mama would use it as an excuse for why Franny shouldn't do Karate any more. Mama was convinced that Franny needed more femininity—that she never should've been involved in a male sport to begin with—that harassment like that was to be expected. She'd fill that time slot by having Franny babysit her cousins.

O yeah. That's how a teenage girl wants to spend her afterschool hours: cleaning up spit up, sewing rabbit ears back onto stuffed animals, coaxing Jr. to eat his supposedly "yummy" mashed up carrots. And for free. Because Antonia didn't believe girls should be paid for such services since it's really just training for the future. Tch. Pass.

Still, if she didn't tell, Gaston would remain in trouble. She'd ask him when he returned. If he wanted her to tell, she'd tell.

In the meantime, it was good to be here…in a bathtub/shower combo. Unnoticed. Scrubbing at grout lines. No one would pester her, or ask questions, or criticize. It was a good spot. Or at least it was until Art came home from work and desperately needed the toilet.

Cornelius straightened his grey tie for what felt like the hundredth time. He was going somewhat casual. Ironed black jeans with a dark blue button up shirt—this way, if he sweats (which under Alfonzo's imperious scrutiny, he doesn't doubt he will) no one will easily notice it.

He had to park his car several blocks away because every space closer was taken.

At first, he just thought it was a coincidence: lots of families held gatherings on the weekend. When he came up to the drive, he realized that no, there weren't other events going on. Franny had a BIG family. Huge. As in, there was no wondering why Gaston and Art would have to live with them in the future—where else would they fit?

He remembered asking Wilbur (who regularly referred to Tallulah and Lazlo as Lulu and Laz), if he had other cousins he was close to. Wilbur had gone strangely stiff and acknowledged that ….yes, he did have other cousins… from his Framagucci side. When he'd asked about what they were like, Wil just shrugged and mumbled, "We all look alike."

Everyone here sported dark hair and olive skin. Yeah, Wilbur would definitely blend right in, though…he might be a tad paler.

Cornelius was the only blond in sight—one lone kernel of corn amongst a sea of chocolate chips. He needed to hurry up and get to that barbecue—he was hungry.

When he walked up the driveway, he garnered quite a few curious stares. Two nicer adult women smiled motherly at him. As he approached, they asked him if he was lost.

It wasn't quite the same as being told he was unwelcome, so he tried to smile back and mentioned that Franny had invited him.

Both blinked, stared at each other for moment, and then chatted swiftly in Italian. He distinctly heard "Franny" now and then.

There! That word again! "Ragazzo" what did it mean? They said it rather incredulously. Was it an insult?

What? Was he too Swedish looking to be Franny's guest? Was it like "Gringo?" Yes, he knew Nancy had summed him up accurately last semester—that he was a Twinkie—he was white and then…whiter inside. But really? Were they such an unlikely pair?

His phone was in his pocket. It'd be rude if he took it out and Googled it, but gah! His fingers were itching to do so.

"Cornelius!"

Both women turned as Franny bounded up in a red and white checkered sundress. She linked arms with him and tugged him along "Come on, we're playing Bocce Ball in the backyard."

The rules were new to him and he needed them repeated several times because he kept getting distracted by…Franny being…wonderfully Franny.

He nodded and summed up, "So the objective is to get each ball as close to the small pallino ball. You're also allowed to hit your opponent's ball out of the way or even to move the pallino ball itself."

Franny smiled, "Yes, and it's two points if you get the ball to baci with the pallino ball at the end."

"Baci?" he wondered aloud.

Her cheeks pinked, "W-well, in Italian 'Baci' means…to…" She chewed at her lip for a moment before laughing embarrassedly. "Kiss. T-they'd be, ya know, touching at the end…l-like a kiss."

Feeling enlightened in numerous ways and eager to try in both contexts, Cornelius straightened his glasses, "I see."

They played a few rounds, their team losing by smaller amounts as Cornelius's skills improved. He was about to volunteer them for another frame when Franny groaned.

Concerned, he turned to look at her. Was she sick of losing? Darn his lack of athleticism.

"That's Nikki."

He gauged her expression carefully as she motioned toward the other boy. He was slender, a tad shorter than Cornelius with curly dark hair. Nancy would probably say he had points in the dark poet look—with deep brooding eyes and a downturned mouth…but Neil felt that nose was a bit too long for anyone to take him as a serious suitor.

In fact, he was rather pleased to say that this guy wasn't a threat. It wasn't often he trounced someone in the looks department. So…Cornelius felt pretty proud.

"Mama keeps trying to pair us," Franny grumbled.

And now alarm bells went off in his head. Threat level increased because Mrs. Framagucci was actively trying to thwart him and pair them.

"Thankfully, I think he has his sights set elsewhere," Franny gestured with a hand.

Sure enough, he kept leaning in to talk to a girl around Franny's age. She had short hair and an even shorter skirt. She was pretty, in a chic trendy way, but there was something (maybe it was her long nails) that made her seem catty.

There was just something classy about Franny's brand of lovely. Her long dark hair was in a ponytail and bow and he liked how it gleamed in the sunshine. And then there were her pretty brown eyes with their long dark lashes that were watching him and-

"Cornelius? Be.."

"Uh, er. Yeah?" So suave.

"I said, beware, they're coming over."

The girl sized Franny up and smirked, "You look like a picnic table."

Cornelius frowned at the girl before reassuring Franny, "That's not true. You look great."

"Well yeah, compared to you Broomstick."

Cornelius rolled his eyes. Ooooh, original...like he'd never heard that one before.

Neil raised an eyebrow, "May we help you find the exit? It's that way."

The girl's mouth clamped shut and she blinked at him rather furiously. It was almost as if she'd never been shut down before…or at least not by someone like him. Maybe she'd never had a broomstick recognize her as trash and try to sweep her away.

She tried to deflect his barb by ignoring it, "I'm Felicia. Franny's cousin."

The girls eyed each other distastefully and both murmured, "Unfortunately."

Felicia studied her manicured nails. "So you're the Nerd Franny keeps talking about."

"Nerd-king," he corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"As her brothers may have informed you, I am the King of the Nerds." He caught Franny's eye who blushed—her mouth twitching like she's not sure if she's allowed to laugh or not. Cornelius thought she may as well—because as things were she was a Princess Nerd herself and he had every intention of making her his Queen.

The other girl blinked again, as if unsure of how to take that.

"Anyway," Felicia continued, clicking her nails against each other before pulling them through her hair. "We've been thinking. Why don't you," she gestured to Franny "And Nikki just go out?"

Franny tripped into Cornelius and he barely managed to steady her. Whoa, they couldn't have heard that right.

"I mean what's the big deal? You two," She pointed at both of them. "You like each other, right? And we," She gestured to herself and Nikki. "Like each other, right? And it's not like any of our mamas are down with it so..."

Cornelius frowned; his mom was fine with it, thank you very much, and he was about to say so when-

"It's like this, Franny," Nikki replied smoothly, putting an arm around her shoulder. "We meet up somewhere, make sure others see us and then just go on separate dates. My mama's happy, your mama's happy, and all four of us are happy. And then I'll pick you up and drive you home."

Franny bit her lip and looked at Cornelius unsurely. It was the bewildered sort of look that said: Do you believe them? If you say yes, then I'll believe them too.

O yeah, he's "down" with that plan. Let him just donate himself to science while he's at it.

"And what about events like this, huh?" Incredulity colored Neil's voice. "Would you actually put on an act for everyone?"

Franny visibly shuddered at the thought and immediately rebuffed the arm draped around her.

Cornelius couldn't tell if she moved closer to him deliberately or subconsciously, but she was now standing half a step behind him. While part of him was infinitely glad that she preferred his proximity, the part of him that was angry got even more fired up. There was just something about her and Wilbur being in trouble that pitched him off the deep end (regardless of whether it got him into a fist fight with a troll or hanging from a shovel in the jaws of a T-Rex).

Cornelius L. Robinson knew he had a temper. Most of the time, people didn't know that about him—because he had a long fuse…but when that fuse ran out—take shelter—because that bomb was going off and there was going to be shrapnel.

Nikki sighed through his nose impatiently, "A quick peck now and then would do, it's not like we have to make out or anything."

"Back it up, Pinocchio!" Cornelius hissed. "There is no way we're subjecting ourselves to-to this! Stupid, convoluted-It's like a nasty mixture of a Shakespearian comedy, a soap opera drama, and a weird episode of Dateline. Are you an idiot? "

"Wh-what do you mean, Pin-pinocc-" Nikki self-consciously touched his nose.

"I don't do sneaking," Neil continued loudly. "I don't do deception. I'm not a guy that-that does that. It'd be like, like, like me saying I'm ashamed of us! I'm not ashamed of us. Franny deserves better than that. I deserve better than that. The-the answer's NO!" He abruptly took Franny's hand and led her away.

Her big brown eyes were opened wide—watching him.

And then the reality of what he'd just done, in front of…quite a few people began to sink in.

"Look, I-I'm sorry I yelled. I didn't mean to…well, yeah I did mean to… I don't do. It's just NO."

"I…didn't know that there was an us," she murmured.

"Uh, well, I-I uh…if you…" Wow, he really jumped the gun on that, didn't he? Stupid, presumptuous, egotistical—

"I…I think I'd like there to be…if you..." she went rather red and smiled shyly at his shoes.

Yes! And there can be! Will be! Shall be!

She squeezed his hand.

Right. Right, they were still holding hands!

Alright Neil, easy does it, he gently reeled her closer to himself.

His other hand found hers. Her parents were busy talking with guests. Art was somewhere not within twenty feet of them. Gaston was still curiously absent. The rest of the yard seemed preoccupied with consoling Pinocchio.

She smiled up at him.

Baci. O yeah, they were making it happen.

"Time to gather up for cake!" an overly cheerful voice informed him by his shoulder.

Mrs. Framagucci!

Son of the square root of 2!

She'd been by the barbecue, how'd she teleport over here?!

Though her mouth was smiling, her eyes were fierce. Clearly, she'd been watching them from the get-go. He must've given some overt sign of romantic intent.

Option A: He was going to have to get quicker (because Mrs. Framagucci couldn't stop what was abrupt and spontaneous). Option B: He needed to flat-out defy her (regardless of consequences—though that risked a Romeo and Juliet plotline). Or Option C…he gave a sidelong glance to Franny. He'd need to maneuver them into a situation/location without familial, ceremonial, or social interruptions.

He had accepted that he was not going to get any real support from the Framaguccis (which was understandable, because his ultimate goal was to smuggle her into the Robinson Family). The staff that had worked at the InventCo event (the ones who Nancy spilled his crush to) were still emailing an ocean of advice—and they wanted every detail…and he couldn't decide if the lack of privacy or his lack of progress was more embarrassing. The informal meeting between Franny, Nancy and Kyle had been surprisingly confrontational (though it was Nancy's fault).

It all seemed to confirm that they needed to be away…from others…

Yes… Option C: Go on a date seemed vital.

Franny tried not to glare—trust Mama to try and ruin everything. Cornelius had been about to ask her out or kiss her or both and—UGH!

She made a point to link arms with him as they walked over to the picnic tables. She could feel her mother's disapproval as they sashayed by but she didn't care. Who Franny dated or didn't date was her choice, not her mother's. Society had evolved past the whole arranged marriage thing...Mama needed to catch up.

Everyone had gathered around the sheet cake that Gertie's mom had baked for them no-cost. Only, Franny felt a little embarrassed. There were so many guests that the cake had been cut up like a grid. No one would get a piece larger than a cubic inch from the look of it.

Franny looked around for Gaston. Where was that weirdo? This was supposed to be his party after all.

She assumed he'd be running late, because that was just his way but...

She frowned as she noticed Art walk over to their dad. He pointed to the nearby pizzeria that Nikki's dad owned and mimicked answering a phone.

The way Alfonzo Framagucci stiffened and then went pale made Franny's stomach flopped.

Something bad had happened…she could sense it.

"Hey Franny? Are you alright?" Cornelius asked.

"H-huh? Y-yeah."

His blue eyes seemed skeptical. "Really?"

"…having a…good time here…Cornelius?" She forced a smile. "In Ciabatta land?" Anything to try and change the topic. He'd already come to her rescue several times now, which had to be annoying. And she didn't want to make it a habit. Seriously, it seemed like each time they interacted he had to be the rock. Running to him each time she was upset or facing an obstacle...

She was supposed to be independent, mature, sophisticated. Like that blonde physicist girl…Nancy? Nina? From the Awards Ceremony and…his school…

Who turned out to be his friend…

Cornelius unlinked their arms and for a moment, she felt her heart sink—until he laced their hands.

"You know…" He rubbed a thumb against her knuckles. "You can call me Neil. You don't…have to be super formal…with me…"

Franny glanced down at their fingers. "…that's what she called you."

"She?" He looked perplexed.

"That girl…friend...at your school…" Franny tried her best to squash down the envy that seeped in at the thought of that girl…being his classmate and companion and…equal…and maybe even more...tried not to picture them being together for hours at a time...but…

"Nancy?" He squawked and raised an eyebrow.

"Is that her name?" She replied primly while she didn't make eye contact.

"She's going out with Kyle," He informed her abruptly. "That other guy who was having lunch with us. Which is good…cuz she's just a friend. We're just friends. We're all friends. She's just a girl...a girl...well..who's a friend and NOT a-a..."

Franny scanned his features—trying to make sure that wasn't code for 'I-wish-she-and-I-were-dating-but-I'll-settle-for-you.'

"She seemed…really smart." And confident and in control and…everything Franny wasn't.

"She's pretty cool," Neil admitted with a smile.

"Oh…" Franny bit her lip.

"B-but-just a friend...not like...you...I..."

Franny looked at him sharply. Had she misunderstood everything?! Were they not friends?! Had she been pushing him? She'd thought there were sparks! That there was definite chemistry between them?!

"Sorry, I want us to be frien-no," Neil let out an aggravated breath. "I don't want us to be friends. I want us to be more than friends. I want...I want us..."

Franny was pretty sure her face was going to melt off, she felt so flushed. And joy started to mix with the dread that was already pooling in her gut. She hoped she didn't puke in front of him. That'd kill the mood.

"Gente... se mi potete dare ascolto!" Alfonzo addressed the table.

Franny looked over, there was definitely something wrong. Her dad's tone...

Cornelius sighed, "I should've taken Italian as my foreign language."

"He's just trying to get everyone's attention," Franny told him quietly.

While her dad continued talking, Cornelius leaned closer.

"Hey…um…Franny?" He squeezed her hand and cleared his throat. "I was wondering…if I mean…we seem to…uh…earlier…we started to talk about us…us-us…you know? The "us" question...er concept...and I was thinking-"

There was a collective gasp and Franny's eyes widened because no…nononono! It couldn't be! It had to be a mistake. There was no way her stubborn brother who lived for confrontation could ever just-

"I'm really, really confused," Cornelius leaned down to whisper in her ear. "That didn't sound like a good gasp. What did your dad say?"

Aware her eyes were welling up and Neil would see her cry yet again and there just wasn't anything she could do about it, she choked out, "It's Gaston…he-he…he's run off!"

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