Chapter 39
If I ignore Griselda trailing behind us, arms folded and deliberately unimpressed, seeing my family react to Venice is like watching the wonder of my own arrival played back at me.
Dad actually laughs out loud when a UPS boat chugs past. ‘Look at that! I would’ve stuck with deliveries if I’d had a boat instead of a van.’
Mum’s craning her neck at all the buildings and bridges, whispering, ‘How?’ under her breath, while Veronica and Silvia explain the wooden piles and engineering tricks that keep them standing.
Leo and my new friends aren’t all I’ll miss, I realize.
This incredible floating city has become a part of me too.
I do my best to memorize every detail of this last walk in the dark, until the palazzo comes into view.
Martino Ballarin is waiting at the door, and I honestly think Mum might drop a curtsey.
Leo’s right behind him, a smile breaking across his face when he sees me – relieved, like he’d been waiting, but softened by a quiet are you OK?
Griselda clocks our silent exchange and rolls her eyes. ‘Might have guessed there was a boy involved.’
I groan. Could this get any worse? Introducing your family to your boyfriend is hard enough, but it’s excruciating when the relationship is so new – and our families are so different. I mean, they’re barely on the same planet.
Jacopo pops his head out of the kitchen. ‘What’s happening? Mamma’s never been called in at this time before.’
‘Evie’s family,’ Leo answers. ‘Kind of an unexpected visit. Are you eating with us?’
Jacopo takes one look at the adults’ faces. ‘No grazie. Mamma needs help to make the beds.’
Inside the dining room, even with eight of us around the table, there’s still room for more. Leo slides into the seat beside me, right across from Mum and Dad. His thigh presses against mine. It says I’m here, I’m on your side. Just like Rebel on the app.
Jacopo’s mum brings out an array of steaming dishes, and I quietly explain each one. Mum goes for the sarde in saor. Dad starts with some polenta squares, while Griselda helps herself to the baccalà mantecato – creamed salt cod.
‘I’ll be honest,’ Martino says. ‘I wasn’t happy about tonight’s surprise …’
So much has happened today, I’m not even sure what surprise he means. Probably the parade and our rebellion.
He goes on. ‘But I’m not blind to the committee’s reaction. Hearing their views, and talking to my son, has truly been an eye-opener. I understand you have been a big part of that, Evie.’
I turn to Leo, eyes wide. You talked?
He nods, and he looks … happy.
If Leo can find a way to talk to his dad, maybe I can find the courage to do the same with my family.
But before I find the words, Veronica speaks.
‘It seems there’s been some misunderstanding, however. Evie’s family were expecting her to be in Florence, taking part in a science fair.’
Martino raises his brows. ‘She wasn’t supposed to be here?’
‘As far as I’m concerned, she was … she is,’ Silvia replies. ‘I was incredibly impressed by her digital work. When I saw her portfolio, I thought she was just the person to bring a new dimension to the project.’
Hearing Silvia say I deserve to be here, that I wasn’t a mistake or a clerical error, is the last little push I need.
‘I wasn’t trying to slack off or get a free holiday.
I wanted this. I’ve wanted it for a long time.
Leo and I … we’ve been sharing our art online for a year without realizing who the other was. ’
Mum’s eyes widen. Griselda’s brow furrows. She’s clearly remembering the argument we had about me chatting to people on the internet. She’s probably wishing she’d shut me down like she’d threatened to.
‘Online where, exactly?’ Veronica asks.
‘On the Art Exchange app,’ Leo says carefully. ‘We signed up through our schools – well, my old one. It’s a kind of virtual gallery for teens.’
Silvia holds out a hand. ‘May I see?’
I’m closest, so I pass her my phone, opened to the main feed.
She scrolls for a bit, pausing to zoom in here and there. ‘This is interesting. There’s a real sense of community.’
‘Exactly,’ Leo says. ‘We couldn’t share our work with our families, but we had each other.’
‘I had to drop art at school,’ I explain. ‘But I missed it so much. This app kept me going, but it’s not the same as an art school or college.’
Griselda’s very still, eyes lowered, and for once I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
‘I wanted a bit of paper that said “Evie is good at real art”. Something I could show you,’ I tell Mum and Dad.
‘Like Grace had with her plastic bag award. I’m sorry I lied to you.
But I wasn’t trying to escape work or responsibility.
And I’ll still do science if that’s what it takes.
I just … want to keep doing art. I don’t want to hide it away, like it’s a waste of my time. ’
Veronica tilts her head. ‘So after all this, you’re saying you no longer want to pursue art as a career?’
‘I do! At least, I would. But I don’t have the luxury of trying and failing. My sister and my parents are right that I need to earn a living. This world …’ I gesture at the chandeliers, the gilded frames, the wealth around us. ‘It’s not me.’
‘But Evie!’ Silvia leans forward, eyes bright. ‘That’s exactly what InterSTEAM is for. Inclusivity. Opening doors into the arts for people with talent, but without the network or resources.’
Wait … is Silvia saying I can still get my certificate? Even though I lied?
I don’t dare ask. Instead I shift the attention to my parents. ‘You know why I’m here, now. But … how long have you been planning to come to Italy?’
‘Since you told us you’d got a place. It was Grace’s idea,’ Dad says.
‘She’s been desperate to come back and really wanted to see you at the fair.
She spent ages finding cheap flights, and her friend got us a great deal at the B&B.
She even collected work from your school so you wouldn’t fall behind from being away for two more days. ’
Typical Griselda – have a break but also don’t have one. Still, I’m feeling guiltier with every word Dad says.
‘We always said we’d go abroad one day,’ Mum explains. ‘But it was impossible to line up time off. So we stopped waiting and worked with what we had instead. A city break.’ She looks almost proud, like she’s suddenly the kind of person who jets off to new places.
My heart squeezes for her, for all the sacrifices she’s made. I stretch my hand out across the table. I can’t quite reach, but Mum stretches hers too, meeting me halfway. ‘I’m weirdly glad you came now, even if I am in trouble.’
Martino chuckles, breaking the tension. ‘Science, art … it’s an old debate. Leonardo da Vinci didn’t seem to have trouble combining the two.’