by M. M. Cox
The hospital is about as much fun as five stitches can be. The doctor and nurses study Gino suspiciously when he tells them the tale about me taking a tumble down the recently mopped stairs. But Gino seems unconcerned by their scowls, and I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling. The only stairs in my shabby little house are the two crumbling concrete steps that lead up to the front door.
The doctor is gentle as he examines my head, as if sorry for not confronting Gino about the real cause of my injury. I appreciate the kindness, but I also feel a little guilty about Gino taking the blame for my dad’s actions. I try not to think about my dad—I don’t want to lose my resolve to protect him. But the events of the evening have certainly shown me that, of the few people in my life, Del Higgins is not someone I will ever be able to trust again. I have always felt, deep down, that my dad would be there for me when it truly counted—that years of verbal abuse and a bad temper would be put aside if I was in a true crisis. Those feelings are gone. I wince at a sharp stab of pain in my forehead. Yes, definitely gone. The doctor pulls out a needle of alarming size. “I’m going to inject this into your head so you won’t feel any pain from the stitches. It’ll just sting for a moment.”
I grit my teeth, thinking it strange that pain is necessary to avoid more pain. But I can’t let Gino know that the needle scares me. I hardly know this man—my godfather?—but I don’t want to show him any weakness. I feel that being brave is a quick way to earn Gino’s respect. And that, more than anything else, is what I want most at this moment. The stitches take only minutes. As the doctor finishes, Gino briefly inspects my head and gives a small nod of approval. The doctor eyes him warily. “We’ll need you to sign some paperwork, Mister Higgins.”
Gino shakes his head. “It’s Mister Vigliotti. Gino Vigliotti.”
The doctor glances down at my chart. “You’re not the father?”
Gino shakes his head. “No, I’m his godfather.”
The doctor drops the chart to his side. He is now openly glaring at Gino. “I’m sorry, Mister Vigliotti. We’re going to need to speak to one of the parents.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Gino says casually. I am impressed that Gino is unfazed by the doctor’s hostility. “I gave the nurse the necessary paperwork. His mother, Penny Higgins, made sure everything is in order.”
The doctor is surprised, but he doesn’t push the issue. He has too many patients to spend any more time worrying about me. I’m shocked by what Gino has just said. First, I have never heard Mom go by the name “Penny.” She has firmly told my dad many times that her parents named her Penelope, and by God, who was she to shorten what must have been important to them. I always thought that my mom just enjoyed the uniqueness of Penelope, whereas Penny sounded ordinary—like the coin.
But I am most surprised by Gino’s claim that Mom herself gathered the necessary paperwork to give him temporary care of me. I do not think my mother ever had a responsible moment in her life. And how had she been able to pull herself together so quickly? Only a few hours have passed since she was led from the house screaming like an angry toddler. Yet, I am also hopeful. My mom would not leave me with someone she didn’t trust, would she?
Well, I guess it depends on how desperate she is.
Gino heads for the door. “Let’s go.”
I jump down from the examining table and quickly follow him. He fills out a zillion forms before we can leave, but we are soon out of the hospital and back in the Lexus. I’m already becoming attached to the vehicle. As someone who has never had nice things, especially not new things, the SUV is a window into a lifestyle that I have only ever heard about and never dreamed I would experience.
The drive starts out much like the first one did. Neither Gino nor I speak a word. However, my curiosity eventually wins out, and I nervously clear my throat. “Mister Vigliotti, I—I guess you know my mom?”
Gino stares straight ahead. “Call me Gino, Danny. And of course I know your mom—I’m your godfather. I don’t think someone would choose a stranger for that, do you?”
Gino’s gruff answer does nothing to ease my nerves, but I find that this man I barely know impresses me. “No, I guess not,” I say quietly. “It’s just—I’ve never heard of you. I’m not even sure I know what a godfather is.”
I am not prepared for Gino’s abrupt laugh. He shakes his head as he chuckles. “Well, that’s not really your fault,” he says, a grin spanning his tanned features. “If I were a good godfather, I guess you’d know what role I’m supposed to fill. But I’m making up for lost time now. Your mom ignored me for years, probably to save up for a really big favor like she’s asking now.”
I don’t like being a favor. “I’m sorry to be any trouble,” I say. “I probably could have been left on my own and been just fine. I’ve practically been taking care of myself my whole life anyway.”
Gino’s face immediately turns serious. “Danny, I didn’t mean it to sound like you’re any burden at all. It’s just that I haven’t heard from your mom in ages, so I was a little surprised by her call.” He pauses and then glances at me. “I’m glad I’ll get a chance to know you, Danny, while you stay with us in Newcastle.”
I turn to Gino in surprise because I had assumed he was taking me home. “I’ll be staying with you?”
“Yes—for a little while. Your mom needs to get some affairs in order before she’s able to be a parent again. Or maybe a parent for the first time.” He smiles quickly at me. “You seem like a tough guy. You’ll be a good influence on my kids—they’re spoiled rotten, and I doubt they would be able to survive very long without my wife and me to pamper them.”
Kids? This is all becoming very complicated. Here is a perfect stranger taking me in for a few days, with children of his own. How will Gino’s kids feel about me invading their space? Because I’ve never had a sibling, I have no idea how it will feel to live with other kids.
“How old are they?” I ask.
Gino rolls his eyes. “Not old enough. Or maybe too old. I don’t know. Julia is sixteen, and Vince is seventeen. Vince is old enough to drive, of course, which makes me really nervous, and Julia’s got a boyfriend who’s a freshman in college. That’s my next project—to put an end to that!” He laughs again, as though scaring off a college student will be fun. So both of Gino’s kids are around my age. I wonder what that will be like. And will Gino’s wife be okay with me staying in their home? I can’t imagine how angry my own mom would be if she had to take in another teenager. Some days, she barely tolerates me in the house.
“Um, look,” I say, hesitating, “I don’t want to intrude on your family. We could just stay at my house, you know, until my mom comes back.”
Gino smirks. “I don’t know about you, Danny, but I think I’d prefer to stay at my house. You might prefer it too, once you get there.”
“I just meant, you know, I don’t want to put anyone out. I definitely don’t mind sleeping on the sofa. I hate to be in the way.”
“Don’t worry about it, Danny. No one’s sleeping on a sofa. Even the dog’s got a bed—that spoiled ankle-biter. Don’t worry about the family. They’ll all be glad to have you. And if not, they can go stay in your house for a few days, and they’ll come crawling back!”
I’m a little insulted. “Hey, my house isn’t that bad. My parents did the best they could.”
I notice Gino’s look of doubt. “Okay, okay. Maybe not ‘the best they could,’ but I’m not complaining.”
Gino smiles. “We’ll see what you think a couple days from now.”
With that, Gino pulls the Lexus into the driveway of a beautiful, ivory-colored stucco house. Not a house, a mansion. I lean back, trying to take in the enormous structure with one glance, and I can’t.
Gino opens the door and steps out of the SUV. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the family.”
Suddenly, I panic. “Uh, Gino, I completely forgot! I need to get some stuff. I don’t even have a toothbrush! Maybe we should go back to my house and I
can pack a bag. I’ll be really quick. But I’ll need some stuff.” I am rambling, desperate to be somewhere familiar again. This is all overwhelming.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send someone to your place to get your stuff.”
“They won’t know what I need!” I say quickly.
“How about everything?”
“Everything?” I have still not moved from my seat. “Just how long am I staying here?”
Gino shrugs. “Don’t know. Might be a while.” He closes the door and motions for me to follow him. I can feel my chest tighten. How can I be intimidated by a mansion? Certainly most teenagers would be thrilled with the idea of moving from a tiny house to an enormous one in a matter of a day. The problem is, this isn’t really my house and this isn’t really my family, and no matter how amazing this place may be, this isn’t my home.
“Danny, come on!” Gino’s voice is muffled outside the SUV. I take a deep breath, open the door, and step out onto a cobblestone driveway. Gino is staring up at the house, shaking his head. “The fact that this house looks more like it should be in Arizona than in Jersey always annoys me when I bring someone new over. But Ronnie loves the architecture, so we’ve got stucco walls and a tile roof. Ridiculous!” Gino turns to me. “Just remember, a happy wife makes a happy life!” He laughs and starts walking toward the front door.
“Great,” I say, a little sarcastically. “But I don’t even have a girlfriend. Although driving a Lexus might help.” I point my thumb over my shoulder at the SUV. Gino chuckles. “Hah! Don’t even think about it! But we’ll work on the girlfriend thing.”
He grins. “I think this is going to be fun.”
I give him a weak smile. “Maybe. I’m still not sure I haven’t been kidnapped.”
Gino shakes his head. “Kid, if you’ve been kidnapped, this is the best day of your life.”
And with that, he continues up the driveway and through the front door, leaving me standing alone, with a bloody washcloth in my hand and a sense that my life may have changed forever.
Chapter 2
Veronica “Ronnie” Vigliotti could pass for a TV mom. First of all, she’s petite, but slender in a gorgeous and curvy way, not an “I eat only celery and carrots” way. She has dark, reddish-brown hair and dark blue eyes that are strangely warm. Whereas my mom has tanned every drop of moisture out of her skin and looks like a dried apricot, Ronnie’s skin is smooth and fair, with a hint of color from taking in just the right amount of sun. I do not even have a chance to examine the oversized hallway (or, as I would later be informed, the foyer) before I am wrapped in her small, strong arms.
After hugging me fiercely (I wonder where such a tiny woman gets so much strength), Ronnie takes my shoulders and holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down. “Look at you. Look at you.” She gasps, smiling. Her voice carries the same Jersey accent as Gino’s, just lighter and prettier. “You are adorable,” she breathes, “I mean— handsome. Who would have thought such a darling boy would have come from Penny and—”
“Ronnie!” Gino coughs, interrupting her. I see him shoot her a warning look. “Take it easy. You’ll scare him away. Look at him, like a deer in headlights.” Gino’s eyes seem to communicate something to her he isn’t going to say out loud, because she puts her hand to her mouth right away. Gino turns to me. “She has that effect on a lot of the kids’ friends.” He lowers his voice to a spooky whisper. “One encounter with Ronnie and they never come back.”
Ronnie grins and slaps him playfully. I have never seen two married people behave like that, and I immediately feel uncomfortable.
“The kids! We must introduce them!” Ronnie moves to the foot of the staircase, an elegant curving structure that is a perfect match for the white marble that decorates the large hall. In fact, I’m pretty sure my house might fit in this house’s hallway. Just the hallway.
“Jules! Vince!”
Ronnie’s one flaw, I think, is that the volume of her voice might be able to bring down a smaller, less sturdy house.
“Jules, Vince, now!”
I have to keep myself from covering my ears. Suddenly, I hear a shriek of frustration coming from the top of the stairs.
“Mom, seriously! Seriously! ” A teenage girl is at the top of the steps, blue eyes blazing, her brown curly hair brushing against flushed cheeks. “I. Am. On. The. Phone!” The girl pronounces each word as a single sentence. “And it’s Julia. You didn’t name me Jules. It’s Julia!”
A tiny, furry, black and tan terrier sits yapping at her feet. She glares at it, raising one finger in the air. “Shut up, Baxter!” Baxter pays her no attention. Julia is pretty. No, she is beautiful. She looks much like her mother, with the same wavy reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, but Julia has the height that Ronnie lacks. I try not to stare, and I can feel my jaw dropping lower than what would certainly be considered “cool,” but this girl is hot. Very, very hot. And I immediately know that she is way out of my league and that, for some reason, she already dislikes me. In fact, at the moment, she seems to hate everyone.
Julia lifts her cell phone to her ear and turns away from her parents. “I’m sorry, honey. Gino and Ronnie can be so frustrating! Yes, I know you have a big test…I can’t help you study tomorrow, I’m getting my hair cut…”
“Julia.” Gino says the name in a low voice, but it is enough to make Julia jump and turn around.
Gino glares up at his daughter. “If you don’t come down now, the only person cutting your hair will be me. Can you say, buzz cut?”
Julia’s eyes widen. “I’ll call you back,” she tells her caller, then she snaps the phone shut and stiffly walks down the stairs, as a queen would come down to meet her subjects. Baxter follows, yapping excitedly until he sees Gino—then he quickly struggles back up the staircase.
Gino continues to glare at his daughter. “It’s Dad, Julia, not Gino. It will always be Dad. As long as I’m paying the bills, that’s the way it will always be.”
Julia rolls her eyes. Twice. “Fine,” she says. But obviously, she makes clear with her face, it isn’t fine.
Ronnie motions toward me. “Julia, this is Danny. He’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Julia finally notices me. She studies me intently for a few moments, her eyes quickly jumping from one feature to the next, finally settling on the stitches on my forehead. I stare back at her, knowing that my face is turning red. Then she quickly dismisses me, her beautiful eyes flicking back to her parents. “Why?” she asks, not too kindly.
“Because he needs a place to stay,” Gino says firmly. “And I’m his godfather.”
Julia takes this information in with no expression. “Will he be going to school with us?”
“Perhaps.”
I am more surprised than Julia by this piece of news. She simply turns on her heel and arrogantly lifts her head. “Just don’t expect me to be a tour guide,” she sniffs before heading back up the stairs. A burly teenage boy passes her at the top and descends the steps in a few huge leaps.
“Hey, Dad, Joe said he just got a Camaro on the lot that’s in perfect condition! He said he’d give us a great deal!”
Gino appears unmoved by his son’s enthusiasm. “He said he’d give us a deal?”
“Oh, come on! You said you’d help me get a car!” wails the teenager, whom I know must be Gino’s son, Vince. He is tall, like his sister, but where she is graceful and slim, Vince is bulky, with dark eyes and scruffy black hair. Vince glances at me, his eyes quickly finding the stitches on my head, before directing his attention back to his father.
“I told you I’d help you with half,” Gino is saying. “Now, if you think you can come up with the other half needed for a Camaro—”
Vince’s face turns red. “Oh yeah, right, like you don’t have the money to help me get this car!”
Gino’s voice is almost as cool as it had been with the loud, obnoxious Barb Kluwer.
“I’m not your bank, Vince. It’s my money, and I decide when and where
it gets spent, not you.”
I am a little unsettled by Gino’s tone. With the exception of a few bursts of laughter, he seems to be an extremely calm guy with a tough guy exterior. But something about the edge in Gino’s voice makes me uneasy.
Vince throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Fine! I’ll go find a crappy car, and you can come pick me up when it breaks down at school and everyone makes fun of me!” Vince runs back up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. His hammering footsteps cause the whole structure to tremble.
Gino and Ronnie ignore him, turning their attention once more to me. “Well, we already ate dinner,” Ronnie says casually, as though her almost two hundred pound son were not about to take down the entire house. “But, Danny, we’ve got leftovers. How does macaroni and cheese sound? Mine is strictly homemade!” She looks at me expectantly, but she doesn’t need to worry. I am so hungry, I would eat just about anything; macaroni and cheese sounds, well, unbelievably great.
Ronnie directs me through the enormous living room to the equally enormous kitchen and nudges me into a seat at the large oak table. I sit silently once more, racking my brain for something to say, but I am too exhausted to make conversation. Gino has disappeared for the moment.
“Here you go!” says Ronnie, placing an oversized bowl of steaming macaroni and cheese in front of me. “Now, if you need anything else, you just let me know. Or help yourself—this is your home.” She pauses, uncertainly. “At least, it’s your home as long as you want to stay here.” She turns back to the kitchen and begins unloading the dishwasher. After a few moments of nothing but the sound of clattering dishes (and several delicious mouthfuls of mac and cheese for me), Ronnie again makes an attempt at conversation.
“So, Danny,” she says casually, her Jersey accent shaping the sound of her words.
