by Ella James
I inhale slowly, knowing that what I say and how I say it really matters. Then I look into my dad’s eyes, keeping my face as emotionless as possible.
“We weren’t alone, Dad. There were other people all around.”
“That’s interesting news. I was up and down the driveway several times, and I saw no one.”
“We were out back by the docks. Cleaning up the Solo cups the other kids left.”
“Oh, so there were Solo cups.”
“Well, yes, but not mine. You can smell me if you want to.”
My dad lifts a brow again, and I feel stupid for suggesting it.
“What’s his name? This nice boy…”
“Why does it matter? I already said he’s not my boyfriend or someone I’m close to.”
“It matters because I asked.”
“Okay…well.” My stomach twists. “His name is Luca.”
“Luca. What’s his last name?”
“Dad, it’s weird to have you asking this. It doesn’t matter. What are you going to do, like call his parents? Because you saw him in a yard with me?” I’m trying to keep my voice steady, but it keeps rising on key words.
“I don’t know. I might. That’s my prerogative as your parent. I can do as I choose—as long as you’re under this roof.” He says it grandly, like a tyrant’s proclamation.
I wish I were anywhere else. But I nod—because I have to.
“What’s his last name?”
“Dad, that guy is not my boyfriend.” I swallow as tears blur my eyes and bite down on the gum again.
“What is Luca’s surname, Elise O’Hara? You’ve gone from grounded for seven days to grounded for ten. And that includes extracurriculars like running, tennis, debate club, volunteer Saturday with that other club…”
I jump up, unplanned. “What?! You can’t do that! You—”
His face hardens. “I can and I will, unless you tell me that boy’s last name.”
“I don’t want you getting him in trouble, Dad!”
“What makes you think I would?”
“Because you’re acting so crazy about it!”
“Now it’s two weeks.” He tilts his head slightly, looking at me curiously. “How much is this worth to you? For a boy you barely know?”
I can’t explain it—not with words. I just have this feeling, like I have to protect Luca.
“I care because you’re being mean.”
That makes my dad chuckle, and it proves me right; it is a mean sound.
He picks up a frame on his desk. The framed item is a handkerchief, embroidered with vines twined into the shape of an “A”—for amore. My mother’s father gave it to him on their wedding day, making my dad promise to take care of her forever.
“Mean.” He looks up at me. “Now you’ve earned yourself a month.”
My body flashes icy cold. “A month? Of being grounded? For not telling you some guy’s last name?”
“For not telling me Luca Galante’s last name.” He holds something up—and I realize it’s the program from the football game.
“How did you get that?” My face burns. “Did you go there?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you have me followed, Dad?”
His eyes narrow. “Someone left it on the lawn. I picked it up. Galante is a name I recognize.” He gives a little shake of his head. “The Galantes are not good people, Elise. Not people I want you spending any time with.”
“What? The Galantes. Like you really know them? He lives in Red Hook!”
“I thought you two weren’t close.” He quirks an eyebrow, giving me a look straight from the courtroom.
“I know that about him. You don’t know shit!”
He presses his lips together, glancing briefly down at something on his desk then back up. “I know what I need to know. Don’t ask how, because it doesn’t matter. Nor do I feel inclined to answer you. But let me make this very clear, Elise O’Hara: If I find you are cavorting with the Galante boy in any way—be it at a football game after school or sitting with him at lunch or looking at him in the hall or in any way—there will be consequences that will shock you. The biggest one being, no Columbia.”
My stomach hollows. My mouth falls open. I close it and try to make words. “No—” I can’t find the words to express my dismay. “You’re saying you won’t help me…go to college?”
“Oh no. I’m saying that you won’t go at all. Whether you need my ‘help’ or not. I’ll decline your scholarship for you.”
“What?! For seeing Luca?” My heart pounds like a drum. “Why, Dad?”
“There’s a reason you have parents, Elise. And a good parent does what he can to protect his child.”
“I don’t need to be protected! Just from you!” Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I shake my head. “You wouldn’t do that…”
“You have no idea what I would do—or why. That’s why you’re going to trust me. I’ll do what I have to do to keep you safe, including clip your wings. Your sister is stable for now. Go to your room. We’ll talk more about your poor choices tomorrow.”
Chapter Ten
Luca
“Thanks for the ride, Diamond.”
What I really mean is fuck you. But I don’t think that’s the smartest thing to say to a newly made guy.
“No problem kid.”
I reach for the passenger’s door handle, waiting for him to say more—but he doesn’t.
I roll my eyes as I get out. “You’re welcome—for the help.”
Diamond gives a wheezy sounding laugh. “That ain’t the way this works, Bowzie.”
I clap my palm against the roof of his brand new Mercedes as he pulls away from the curb. For a second, I watch as he steers into a crowded lane.
Diamond thinks he’s Tony fucking Soprano. Really, he’s a small fry—a nobody. Which means he gets the worst jobs.
The night I gave him Elise’s bear, he was stuck with a truck-load of stolen hundred dollar bills stained with thieves ink. We spent hours scrubbing it off—with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and some other shit. Stung my hands and ruined my fucking shirt.
Last night was a lot worse.
I woke up to Alesso knocking on my window at one in the morning, asking if I could help with “something.” He looked tired and pissed off, and I was feeling guilty that I hardly ever see him anymore, so I pulled on a jacket and snuck out.
“Tony’s got a job. Nobody wants to help him.” Alesso folded his arms and looked down at his Nikes. I socked him in the shoulder just to lighten the mood, and he laughed like I knew he would.
“What kind of bullshit is it this time, Aless?”
He scowled at me using his mom’s nickname for him. “Fuck you, you magnet fucker. Tony said you got a girlfriend over there.”
I snorted.
“What’s she like?”
I waved him toward the alley’s mouth. “Let’s get farther from these windows, and I’ll tell you.”
Once we got on the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex, I told him about Elise, and he told me the address of the warehouse.
“I don’t know what went down there, but Tony said there’s a mess.” Alesso’s eyes were wide, so I could tell what he meant.
“Ahh shit, really?”
He nodded grimly. Turned out, there was plenty to be grim about. Alesso is squeamish—he puked twice, and I cleaned extra quick so Tony wouldn’t bitch if his brother just watched.
It took so damn long, I had to call my house from a booth phone when dawn came, and then I missed the connector from Red Hook into Brooklyn. I told Diamond he would have to drive me all the way to school, and surprisingly, he did.
He didn’t thank me for the help. That’s not the way it works. I snicker—even though it isn’t funny.
Alesso’s got to get out of there. I’ve got to get out of there. Maybe I can find us a job in Manhattan this summer. If we made enough, we could throw a little Tony’s way and he’d stop asking us to help at the docks
…or worse.
I’m thinking about the worse—how the blood gelled—when I see the black car park along the curb ahead of me. The door opens, and Elise is out like a shot.
Shit, I must be later than I thought. My heart gives a jolt and I think if it’s blood that gets to Alesso, it’s this girl that gets to me, because I feel sick as I trail her. She doesn’t slow, which means she doesn’t hear my footsteps—or she doesn’t care to hear them. Maybe she regrets the other night. Something dark and heavy presses on me as I consider that, but I can’t just let myself assume.
I catch her at the far end of the bridge, as she’s opening the school door. I don’t want to grab her, so I say her name. She spins around. The second her eyes lock onto mine, tears fill them.
“What’s the matter, la mia rosa?” For a second, her face shutters, and I hate myself for the endearment. Then she moves in closer, bowing her head. I wrap her up against my chest and step out of the doorway, so my back is leaned against the wall of the covered bridge, and that’s when Elise starts sobbing.
Jesus, but her father is a bastard.
And her sister…
Elise is devastated—almost limp as I hold her against me. We’re both late to homeroom, but I take her to the girls’ bathroom and help her wipe her face. In that quiet, echo-y space, she tells me that her dad said she couldn’t see me again.
“He’s crazy, and obviously he doesn’t want me to be happy—since he’s not.” She wipes her eyes and sniffs. “Don’t worry, I know we’re not dating for real.”
“We’re doing whatever you want, la mia dolce rosa.”
She dabs at her eyes with tissue. “What does that mean?” There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips, which makes me feel so fucking good.
“Sweet rose.”
“Why am I a rose?” Her lips curve.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. But that’s not true. I think it’s because she’s so damn perfect. My mom always says there’s nothing prettier than a rose. “Maybe because of how you looked the other night.” I say it teasingly, but I’m sure she can see I mean it.
“Now I’m rose-colored.” She fans her face with her hand, rolling her eyes. I think about teasing her again, but decide to give her a break.
“You know, a lot of the thirty days you’re grounded are school days.”
She nods.
“And your dad won’t know what happens here, right?”
She hesitates before saying, “I hope not.” She wipes her eyes. “But I can never see you outside school.” Another tear falls. “Not even on the sidewalk, when I get dropped off.”
“I don’t remember any interactions offered on the sidewalk.”
She smiles, looking abashed, and I pull her up against me. “I’m just fucking with you. I don’t give a shit about the sidewalk. We’ve got covered bridges, baby.”
That makes her giggle. She steps closer to me, so I’m fully hugging her, and fuck, it feels so good having her against me. I smooth her hair back off her forehead. “You want to try something? Tomorrow, I’m bringing you my favorite cake. It’s lemon cake. Every day, I’ll bring you something. Food, or other stuff. Just something to give you a distraction.”
More tears fill her eyes as she looks up at me, and I laugh, though it’s part groan. “That’s not what I was going for.”
“Thank you,” she says. She looks down at the boots she’s wearing, shy again. I hug her. I can feel her exhale. Then she kisses my pec through my T-shirt. “You’re my favorite fake boyfriend.”
I could keep the joke up, but I don’t. I kiss her hair instead. Just so she knows this isn’t fake to me. She gives me another of her sweet smiles, and I kiss her one more time because I can’t help myself.
Then I walk her quickly to her homeroom. I double back to the guys’ bathroom before going to my own class. I’ve still got blood under my fingernails. I need to scrub it off before I hold her hand at lunch.
Chapter Eleven
Elise
I wait on the sidewalk beside the tennis court like one of Pavlov’s dogs. It’s day seven of my grounding, which means it’s Friday. Which means tomorrow and Sunday, I won’t get to see him.
I hate that, but I can do this. I can wait out my dad. So can Luca.
Despite Dad promising to talk to me about my transgressions, he sent Mom—the first night she and Bec were back home. She came into my room as I was tucking into bed, nearly giving me a heart attack because I assumed something was wrong with Becca. She sat on the edge of my bed in her floor-length, green silk robe and told me, “Don’t defy your father, shona. Trust me, you will regret it if you do.”
When I asked her why—why Dad cared so much about Luca, and how he knew the Galantes—she just shook her head and left the room.
Since then, a few strange things have happened. Mom had the housekeepers move the furniture in my room one day while I was at school, and when I asked about it, she said something about fresh starts and changed the subject. My cell phone got a clip-on protective cover one morning while I was in the shower. And then, a few days ago, the school counselor called me into her office. We talked about my scholarship and plans for next year. I guess that’s not so weird, but something about the timing felt suspect.
So, as of the other day, I’m walking to school. I told Mercer, the elderly Englishman who’s been on our household’s payroll since I was a baby, that I didn’t need rides home from school until it gets colder in a few weeks. Then this morning, I told him I didn’t need a ride to school either. I let my mom know so no one can say I’m trying to be sneaky. I told her Dani’s walking now, too—which isn’t true, but she’s not going to call Dani’s mom. They’re not even friends.
Now, here I am, having walked the three blocks to school on my own legs, smiling the whole way because I can tell Bec’s new seizure meds are working—she’s more alert by far. The air is crisp, the leaves are gorgeous gold and flaming orange and wine red. Luca should be here in minutes.
I take a step back toward the fence that frames the tennis court, so people driving by won’t be able to spot me on the sidewalk. I figure I should do that every morning as I wait for Luca. Not because I think my dad would have me followed—because I know my dad would have me followed. I don’t know what’s behind this Luca stuff, but he’s been cool toward me the handful of times he’s been home for dinner since that night.
I rub my fingertip over a leaf, wondering again why Dad said what he said about the Galantes. What did it mean? And how does he know them? I feel like there’s no way he could know Luca, so does he know Luca’s dad? Was Mr. Galante a client of his? Or does he know the Galantes in some other way? And are Luca’s Galantes even the ones Dad knows?
I hope I never find out, because I don’t plan to ask. With any luck, I can keep my first real relationship a secret for winter, spring, and summer. Then I’m moving into an apartment near campus, and we’ll be home free.
I look down at the pointer finger of my left hand, where there’s a star-shaped pink gumball-machine ring. Luca brought it to me yesterday, along with orange Tic-Tacs.
In a makeup bag inside my backpack are the other things he’s brought—the ones I didn’t snarf down, anyway. There’s been lemon cake and orange-flavored chocolate, a tiny, two-by-four-inch canvas with a painting of the Statue of Liberty, and a little lucky clover paperweight his grandma gave him, followed by a tin of lavender lip gloss he got at an Italian market in Red Hook. And then the ring. I smile at it again before I cast my gaze down the sidewalk.
And I see him. My heart catches at the sight: his long, familiar strides, the wide shoulders and slight swagger, the black hoodie and worn jeans. His backpack is red, and there’s a patch sewn on it that his brother gave him. Pokémon. When I asked about it the other day, Luca said he sewed it onto the pack himself.
“What about your mom?” I’d asked him.
“You saying a dude can’t sew?”
I laughed, feeling embarrassed by my assumption—especially since I
can’t even thread a needle.
I’m smiling at that memory as I step out from behind the trees.
His face lights up, and he speeds up. When he’s close enough, I launch myself at him, and he hugs me to his chest, squeezing me a little before planting a quick kiss on my lips. He takes my hand, and we start walking quickly toward the bridge.
I’m ready. Enclosed in my fingers is my gift for him. It’s small and silly, but I saw it in a store window on my walk home from school yesterday, and I couldn’t resist buying it. Now I press it into his hand, watching his eyes widen as he looks down at me in burgeoning surprise.
“What is this?” he asks as we walk into the covered bridge.
“What does it feel like?”
“I don’t know.” He’s smiling, his blue eyes doing their crinkle at the corners thing that I love.
I can feel his fingers rub over the trinket.
“It feels bumpy…”
“Mmm hmmm.”
“And round.” His eyebrows scrunch up. Then he holds it out in front of him, and I watch his mouth twist into a smile. “That’s a little lemon.”
I grin down at the thing.
“That’s a little lemon with a smilie face,” he marvels.
“It’s a little lemon keychain. I saw it at—you will never guess this—a lemonade stand! Really it’s more like a shop, but they have lemonade and cookies. In your case, though, this is about lemon cake. That there is a lemon who aspires to be cake.”
Luca’s smile is so big, it makes my heart ache. He hugs me against his side as we walk. “Thank you. I’ll attach it to the house key. Or my backpack.” He frowns like he’s contemplating and then gives me a careful look. “How was your night? Did things go okay?”
“Yep. My mom’s still being nice—suspiciously so. And she’s been around more. Becca had a good day yesterday. And Dad is working a lot. I haven’t seen him in four full days.”
“Sweet.”
“Yep, I think that’s the winning combo.”
I haven’t told Luca what my dad said about the Galantes. I don’t see how it would make anything better, and there’s a good chance it could hurt his feelings or offend him. I told him my dad was mad I’d gone to a party rather than where I said I’d be, and was extra mad to have found me there with a guy.
