Vicky Bali wasn't a normal resident of her small Ontario town. For one thing, most of her neighbors had lived in this part of the province for a good century or more. They were also generally Caucasian and members of some Christian sect or another.
Well, her father was still a Hindu, proud of his Balinese heritage (from which he took a shorter and simpler name when he emigrated to Canada). Her mother, however, was Greek Orthodox, though she didn't regain her fervor until after the end of their 8 year marriage. In any case, neither of them was too strict with her, as she was the younger of their two children. She grew up more with her mom, even if she was very fond of her dad.
Her brother Indra had been assigned to his father's primary custody, under the divorce settlement which intended for each child to have access to role models of their own gender. This avoided a bitter court dispute and psychological harm to the children. It seemed like a fair arrangement, too. Vicky was to learn better how to be a woman from her mom, and Indra was to be shown the example of his father when it came to manhood.
There were plenty of people in the town who were nice and likeable, but Vicky stood out for her cheery nature. That didn't mean that she was always sunshine and light, but she tended to stay in good moods and avoid bad ones easier than most in her community. No one hated Vicky, at least on the surface. She was an outgoing, friendly, and upbeat kind of gal.
She wasn't a perfect girl, of course. She lacked drive, motivation, and any kind of real ambition or sense of direction in life. She liked to spend her days chatting, helping people, and having fun. This included mischief, but it was usually the harmless kind. The old expression, "wouldn't hurt a flea," fit no one better than Vicky. She tended to pout and whine sometimes, but only when she had already charmed the person in question. It was mostly her passive-aggressive, non-confrontational way of getting people to do things for her.
Since she had a big heart, however, she didn't usually think of herself long enough to be a real nuisance with the whining. It was just a matter of when she really had a strong desire for something, more than was usually true. That was about as close to nagging or bullying as she got, so it never gained her a bad reputation.
The summer after Vicky turned 13, a brand new neighbor moved into town. His age wasn't really clear, nor was his sexuality. People were very confused and uncertain about him, so naturally rumors flew across the neighborhood. For one thing, he lived completely alone, and he had plenty of liquid cash. His job, on the other hand, was well known. He had opened the town's third pub, and it did very well once he got his liquor license.
Vicky met him in person a week after he moved into his new house, a fairly decent Tudor-style home. Unlike several on her street who found the new resident a bit nerve-wracking, she wanted to give him a fair chance before being cold to him. It didn't seem fair to her to prejudice herself against him for the vague reasons given by her neighbors. The only specific excuse anyone had given was that he was an American, but that was hardly a good cause for mistrusting him, was it?
"Hi, there. Are you Robert Sebastian?" she asked him, having heard his name, but wanting a pretext to introduce herself.
"Yes, I am. What's your name, young lady?" he answered, as he took his trash to the street.
"Victoria Bali, but everyone calls me Vicky," she smiled at him, once more using her charm.
"Well, Vicky, call me Robert. I would say Bob, but it doesn't fit a surname like mine. I guess that you're enjoying summer break, right?" he teased her, trying to be nice to this neighbor who wasn't as distant with him.
"True, but it never lasts long enough. You have a pub, don't you?"
"Yes, it's the new one, and should do fine once the liquor board approves me. I've always wanted to run a bar, excuse me, pub. I'm still used to the American term," Robert explained.
"Think that you'll still be running it when I'm old enough to drink?" she needled him.
"I imagine so. That would be, what, 6 or 7 years? I'm guessing that you're around 12 or 13. Hell, I'll even make your first drink on the house, if you're still as friendly as you are now," he grinned.
"For me? Well, it's a good thing that I like people, isn't it? I'm thirteen, by the way. But, thank you, and I will hold you to that," the teenager winked at him.
"By all means, as I am a man of my word," Robert flirted back.
There was no way that he would ever make any moves on a girl her age, but that didn't keep him from enjoying her coquettish routine. Besides, flirting with an adolescent girl helped her feel pretty and reduced her insecurity. As long as he didn't try to seduce her at such a young age, they should be fine. Whatever his quarrels with puritanical sex laws, Robert Sebastian was used to the age of consent in his own country. He had no idea that the laws were more liberal in Canada, of course.
Then again, he had been around for a long time, and he had learned the value of patience. It certainly occurred to him that Vicky might make a great lover someday, but she would need time and growth to reach the kind of maturity needed to be his girl. No matter how great a person she might be, 13 was far too young for a serious romance.
