Cavaleri Brothers Box Set (Mafia Box Sets #1)

Chapter 1 – Age 10

CHIARA

Dear Diary,

I hate my life.

I hate it here, in this house. In this body. In this world I’m stuck in.

The rooms are big, but the walls squeeze me tight. I can’t breathe. It really hurts. All of me hurts. I wish I didn’t have to hurt anymore.

Every day, I fight the bad feelings away, wishing I could run away. But I can’t. I’m stuck living in this stupid house with my stupid dad.

I’m scared of him and his bad moods. I never know what will make him yell at me and Mom or hit us. He gets mad about everything! What music I like, what shows I want to watch, who I want to be friends with.

I don’t even have friends. Not really. No one except Dominic, the boy I have been friends with since third grade. But I call him Dom. I think I told you that already. That’s what his family calls him, so I do too. I don’t have any nicknames, but that’s because I like my name the way it is.

The other kids at school all suck. They only pretend to like me, but they don’t invite me anywhere when they make plans. I know because I hear about the stuff they do together. And when I invite them to my house, they’re always busy. I’m not stupid.

I don’t know what I did to make them hate me, but I can’t make people like me. It’s their loss. I want to ask why they never include me, but I chicken out. One time, I heard Caitlin say to another girl that her mom said my dad was dangerous. They stopped talking once they saw me walking by.

Why is my dad dangerous? Do they know he hits me? Hits my mom? No, they can’t know. No one does.

Whatever. I don’t care. I have Dom. He’s a real friend. My best friend in the whole world. We haven’t been apart since we first met in class.

But Dad hates Dom and his family. He won’t let me be friends with him at all. I couldn’t even invite him for any of my birthdays. My stupid dad says they’re losers, but that’s dumb. He’s the loser.

I really don’t get why he hates them so much. So what if they don’t have as much money as we do? How could my dad hate someone who’s so nice to me?

Dominic’s family is also much better than ours. His parents really love each other, like for real. I don’t remember the last time Dad was nice to Mom.

Dom’s parents are so kind to me every time I stop by their bakery. They make the best chocolate chip cupcakes ever.

I’m glad I have Dom. I’d be so alone without him.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand and I pick it up, finding a text message from Dom.

Dom

Hope you’re not bored at home. Text me if you are.

Holding my cell phone with one hand, I finish my latest diary entry.

I have to go now, Diary. Dom is calling, and I want to talk to him before Dad gets home. Bye!

I decide to call him instead of texting because texting on this stupid Razr phone with the number pad sucks.

When I dial his number, the phone rings for a second before he answers.

“Hey, Chiara,” he says cheerfully. “How’s your day going? I would invite you over for dinner, but I know your dad hates me, so…”

He laughs, but in a sad way. I feel so bad.

“He doesn’t hate you,” I lie, trying to sound honest.

But it’s no use. He’s heard my father tell me to stop being friends with “that boy.” But I never listen. He can’t control who I’m friends with while I’m in school. I’m not going to let my dad ruin my entire life. He’s already done a great job at it.

“It’s okay, Chiara. I don’t care what he thinks about me. As long as…” He takes a pause.

“As long as what?”

“As long as you don’t agree with him.”

“Of course I don’t! You’re like the best ever. Okay?” My exhale jumps out of me angrily. “Don’t let my douchey dad make you think anything else. He hates everyone, anyway. He doesn’t even like me.”

“Douchey dad,” he laughs, making me giggle too. “I like that.”

“Dominic! Respect!” I hear his mom, Carmella’s scolding voice.

“Sorry, Ma,” he grumbles. “But it’s true.”

He lowers his tone to a whisper with that last part, causing us both to let out a giggle.

“Tell Chiara I said hello,” his mom continues. “And I miss her coming to the bakery.”

“I think she heard you, Ma,” he says in a joking way. “You’re kind of loud.”

“Hey, you’d better behave over there or you’re not getting any of that chocolate cake your papa promised to bring home from work.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” he mutters. “But I want two slices.”

“Dream on. You’re barely getting one as it is.” I can tell she’s kidding, though.

“Tell your mom I miss her too,” I jump in between their teasing conversation.

“She misses you too,” he tells her.

“Give me the phone,” I hear her say, and the next thing I know is her voice coming through the line. “Hey, honey. Is everything okay at home? I haven’t seen your mom or you in weeks. I miss you girls stopping by.”

“We’re okay. The same, you know.”

But I don’t know. I have no idea how much she knows about my family.

“Yeah, I know, honey. Listen, you’re always welcome here. I told your mom the same last time we spoke. You guys are like family to us.”

I huff out a defeated breath. My mom loves their bakery. It’s the best one in town. She started to go because I’d beg, and the only reason my dad allowed it was because he liked the chocolate cake she’d bring home for him.

Whenever we stop by, my mom and Carmella always have their chats. But my dad hasn’t been letting us go lately, saying we go too much, and I’m too embarrassed to tell them that. My dad doesn’t let us do anything without his permission.

“You there?” Carmella asks with concern.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I would never betray your trust, Chiara.”

My stomach does this twisty thing and my heart jumps with nerves. I wish I could tell her everything, but I tell no one but my diary.

I clear my throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why do you like us? My mom and me? No one seems to. At least no one likes me at school and no one lets me come over. I think it’s because…”

I don’t finish the sentence. I can’t. She’ll ask more questions and I won’t be able to give her the answers. If my dad finds out I talk bad about him or the family, he’ll hurt me.

“Because why?” She sounds genuinely curious about what I have to say.

I gulp down the nerves, the fear. My heart beats loudly in my chest. I can almost hear it. Feel it in my throat.

“I…umm.” My voice shakes with dread.

“Whatever you tell me, it stays with us,” she reassures me. “You have my word.”

I nod on instinct, as though she can see it.

“Because of…um…my dad.” I let the words tumble out quickly, and they don’t stop.

“No one likes him, so no one likes me. That’s probably why I have no friends other than Dom.

He’s great, so I don’t need anyone else, but it still sucks not to be liked.

To be talked about. Please don’t tell my mom what I told you! She’ll be so sad to know I’m sad.”

“Oh, sweetie…” Her voice drifts low and sympathetically. “I won’t say anything, but you listen here. You’re not your father. No one has a right to judge you for someone else’s actions. And those kids at school? Screw ’em.”

A teary laugh bubbles out of me. “You just cursed.”

“I know,” she whispers. “Don’t tell Dom.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, wiping under my eye.

“I’m so happy to hear that laugh. Now we both have a little secret between us.”

“Thank you for always being nice to me.”

“I love you, Chiara. You’re like one of my kids. I’ve got four little knucklehead sons. I need a daughter.”

“They’re not so bad,” I add with a laugh.

“You kidding? They drive me up the wall, especially Enzo and Dante. Those two are the reason I have gray hair.”

“Ma!” I hear Dante’s voice call out. “When will Dad be home so we can have dinner? I’m starving!”

“You see what I mean?” she asks me. “I just gave them a snack thirty minutes ago. Oy, these boys. Let me go finish cooking before they revolt. Tell your mom I said hello and to call when she can.”

“Okay. Tell Dom I said bye.”

“I will. Bye, honey.”

Long after she hangs up, I lie in my bed, hoping I didn’t say more than I should’ve. More than what can get me hurt.

DOMINIC

AGE 10

As soon as my mom grabbed the phone away, she went into the kitchen to talk to Chiara alone. I hope she didn’t say anything embarrassing about me. My mom is definitely good at that. She still expects me to kiss her goodbye when she drops me off at school.

I’m ten now. Not five like Matteo, the baby in the family. I’m the oldest, so I don’t know why Mom treats me like a kid.

The kids at school already look at me weird. I don’t need to give them another reason not to like me. Kissing my mom is not going to win me any friends.

Whatever.

I don’t need them. I have Chiara, and she’ll always have me. I don’t even know how not to be friends with her. We kind of always were.

I hate that her dad doesn’t like me. I’m kind of afraid she’ll start hating me too. That maybe he’ll make her stop being my friend. I don’t want that to ever happen. It’s one of my biggest fears, and she has no idea.

For the next hour, I continue doing my homework until Dad gets home from work, and then my brothers and I get to setting the table while he takes a shower.

“Take this,” I tell Dante, handing him two plates while taking the other four.

My mom is busy putting some baked ziti and grilled chicken on one of those big oval plates.

“Why do you get so many?” Dante asks, looking annoyed. “I can carry more.”

“I’m older. Duh!” I roll my eyes. “And stronger.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re not strong. I can jump higher than you, and I bet I can pick you up and carry you around.”

“Wanna bet?” I ask, putting down the plates on the counter as he does the same.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Mom yells. “You’d better pick those plates up and put them on the table. You get three each, and that’s the last I want to hear about it.”

“Ugh!” I groan.

“Yeah! In your face,” Dante brags as he carries the plates out to the dining room.

“Shut up,” I fire back in a whisper so Mom doesn’t hear as I follow him out. Dante is a year younger than me and forgets that.

Enzo is placing all the forks around the table as we walk out.

“You two are so slow. I’m already done. See?” He gestures with his hand as he sets the last fork down.

“Shut up, Enzo,” Dante and I say simultaneously. He’s seven, and just as annoying as Dante.

“What can I do?” Matteo asks as he hops off the sofa, running over to me, excitement filling his big brown eyes. “I want to help too!”

I rub the top of his head, his dark chestnut hair as thick and soft as the rest of ours. “Go get the napkins from Ma.”

“Okay!”

He runs off to do just that and is back seconds later, a bunch of white napkins crunched up in his hand. I shake my head with a laugh. He’s just so cute.

“How’s your girlfriend?” Dante teases.

“She’s not my—”

“Stop torturing your brother, Dante,” my dad says, coming down the stairs.

“Yes, Dad,” Dante mumbles, puffing out his cheeks.

“How is Chiara, though, son? We’ve missed her at the bakery.”

“She’s okay. It’s her dad.” I grimace, rolling my eyes. “As usual.”

“Poor kid.” He shakes his head, his lips turning downward. “Such a nice girl to have a crazy father like that. What a shame.”

“Francesco!” Ma says as she walks out with the large plate of food.

Dad smiles, going over to her. “I’m sorry, beautiful wife. I shouldn’t have called him crazy in front of the kids.” He winks at me before kissing Mom on the cheek. “Let me get that for you.”

He takes the food from her hands and places it on the table.

“Finally!” Dante exclaims. “I thought we’d starve to death.”

Mom shakes her head. “God help you if you leave one thing on your plate after all that complaining.”

Mom and Dad start filling our plates, and once we’re all eating, I look around at everyone, knowing how lucky I am to have a normal family and wishing Chiara were part of it.