Chapter 5
5
LAMPWICK
I sit on the backwards chair and lean forward. After wiping my brow of sweat, I gaze up at my handiwork; all of the books are placed back on the shelves, just as instructed. Not only did I restock Mr. Donatella’s bookstore, but I did some dusting while I was at it. I’m sure the rows of bookshelves have never been this clean.
I can only assume— I never actually went inside as a kid, choosing instead to break the windows with a slingshot every chance I could get.
Hence why I’m here, volunteering my evening to do what it takes to get into Mr. Donatella’s good graces. “Great work, son,” he says. The older bald man shakes my hand and then leads me out the door. “Even though you didn’t quite alphabetize it the way I wanted you to.” He scratches his cheek and looks away. Before I can make up some excuse, he points at me and says, “Wait right here.”
He disappears, and I sit on the sidewalk. Today was tough and boring, but I need to keep working hard. I need to prove that I’m a good person now, just like…
Pinocchio! My eyebrows jump when I see him stride up to me.
“Sticks?”
“How’s it going, Lampo?” Between his cute smile, perfect brown curls, and that adorable nickname, my heart swoops in my chest.
I shake my head of lustful thoughts. “What brings you here?”
“I finally saved up enough for a new book. Mr. Donatella has the best selection of novels.”
I smirk. “You still really love reading, huh?”
He shrugs. “Of course. Epic stories, fairy tales, mysteries…the words let me explore a world beyond our tiny Italian town.” I snicker, and then he sticks his hand out. I allow him to pull me up, and I swear I only hold his palm for a moment longer than I need to. Such soft hands…
“You working on the list?”
“Yeah. Making up for the past is tough.” I fan myself with my shirt and clap my hands. I point my thumb to the bookstore behind me. “Mr. Donatella had me restock his shelves. Fortunately, I didn’t fall off the ladder and die in a pile of literature.”
Pinocchio laughs. “Repenting isn’t easy, eh?”
“It definitely requires a little sweat.” We both laugh and I wipe my brow.
“I have to say, I’m so proud of you for working on earning back forgiveness.”
Memories of me starting fires just for fun bubble to the surface of my heart. I shrug and look up, my cheeks burning with shame. “If I was a good kid, none of this would have happened.”
“But you’re such a hard worker. Papa sees it, and so do I. And soon, the whole town will know you as the great person you are.” He taps my shoulder and his brown eyes shine. Meanwhile, my heart warms at his kind words. He hasn’t stopped praising me despite all my sins being on full display. The affection I have for Pinocchio is growing to dangerous levels.
How am I ever going to move on from my best friend?
I cough. “Well, I just want to do a good job.”
“And a good job deserves a reward!” Mr. Donatella reappears with a tiny book in hand. “Enjoy this book, on the house.”
I try to bite back the grimace and take the small tome from him. It looks like it’s about a whale — not that I’ll ever read it. “Thank you, Signore .”
I nod, and with that, Pinocchio and I make our exit.
“That book is so great! I read it already, and you’re gonna love it,” he says.
“Really?” I ask as we stride down the sidewalk.
“Yeah, can’t you see what it’s about? Read the title!” He points to the words on the front, and I do my best to scrutinize the letters.
My throat goes dry, and I’m taken back to a memory of being ten years old.
Pinocchio and I were having a grand time, day and night, in the park known as the Land of Toys. There was so much to do, so much fun to be had. Anything we wanted magically manifested for us, and I loved it. Of course, in hindsight, it was just a trap. Giving in to our vices gradually turned us all into donkeys, but we still had some good memories. It was me, my best friend, and anything fun I desired.
One day, I was randomly shooting a broken house with pebbles and a slingshot. In between causing wanton destruction, I took sips of a creamy, sugary beverage through a straw. The junk food manifesting itself day and night should have been a red flag, but I was a kid, what did I know?
Pinocchio strode up to me holding a book. “What you got there, Sticks, homework? School is lame. I thought we left all that crap behind.”
“This isn’t homework!” He beamed at me and held up the book in his wooden hands. “One of the funhouses asked me what I wanted, and I wanted to learn more about whales and sea monsters. So they gave me this book! How amazing is this?!”
He opened up to a page, and I took a gander. As interesting as it would have been to learn about the ocean, the words hurt my head. I tried to bite back a frown, knowing Pinocchio loved it.
“Yeah, that’s uh…interesting and all.” I picked up the straw and grinned. “But you know what’s better?” I ripped off a page from his book and crumpled it up. After tossing it in my mouth, I chewed it and spit into the straw. As expected, the wad landed on a nearby wall with a satisfying splat.
“Spitballs!” I said, laughing.
Pinocchio took a moment to take in the destroyed book. After holding my breath for a moment, he grinned and ripped off a page. Handing it to me, I made another spitball shot at a higher window. My best friend and I laughed all the way.
There were other boys, bad kids like me, roaming about the park. It was a grand time, but hanging out with anyone other than him wouldn’t have been the same.
“Hey, you wanna go to the bounce castle with me?” I asked.
He nodded, his wooden head making a clacking noise, and smiled the brightest grin. He tossed the book aside, and with that, we were off. I’m not proud of the awful influence I was, but I can’t deny the innocent happiness we shared, if only for a few weeks.
* * *
In the present, I clear my throat and look away. My cheeks prickle with embarrassment. I shove my gift book at Pinocchio and continue to hurry down the cobblestone path. “Not interested. You can have it.”
“Not interested? But it’s, like, the most exciting topic of all time.”
I shake my head as we make it to Geppetto down the column are scribbled pictures I drew weeks ago of hats, churches, school bells, and other simple drawings. Each symbol represents someone I harmed as a kid in the town of Collodi.
My cheeks burn and I want the ground to swallow me whole.
“Wait,” he says, and I almost see the cogs turning in his formerly-wooden head. “Can you not…can you not read?”
“I can read!” I snatch the paper from him and push the book back into his hands. Worry fills his eyes and my cheeks prickle with embarrassment. “I just…can’t write so good.”
“Really?” He bites his lip then opens up to the first page. “Then what does this say?”
More shame and anger boils in my gut, but I’ve long since grown out of my angry tendencies. I let out a defeated sigh and sit on the sidewalk. “Okay, I suck at reading, too.”
Pinocchio sits next to me, warming me with his presence as always. “Lampwick, what happened when you left town?”
“I told you, I went working for my uncle.” I shrug and look down at a pebble between my legs. “I didn’t like school, so I just kept working odd jobs. I made good money, so I never needed to learn. Plus, I was never good at…books and the like.” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I’m not built like you, Sticks. The world is a wonder to you. You like reading, you’re smart, and you’re a good person. You’re not a perpetual fuck-up.” I sigh, and my admission makes me feel about two centimeters tall.
“You’re not a screw-up, Lampwick. You’re my friend, and a really hard worker.” His reluctance to swear almost makes me snicker, but his sympathy is sweet.
“Hey, why don’t I teach you how to read?”
I bite my lip and glance at him. “You’d do that for me? I’m a simpleton.”
“You’re not a simpleton, Lampo.” He pokes my shoulder, and that time I giggle. “You just need someone patient, who gets you.”
I bite back a swoon. I can always count on Pinocchio to make me feel better, but also build me up so high. He sees more in me than anyone, and sometimes I despise that pressure. But right now, I’ll take his olive branch.
“Alright. If you don’t mind.”
“Of course not!” He beams at me, and we both stand up. “I’ll help you with the list, and in between, we can have literacy lessons.”
“Done deal.” I give him a quick pat on the shoulder and wander off. “I gotta go, Sticks. Early shift with your papa tomorrow.”
“Alright. Hey, where are you staying, by the way?”
I walk backward and try to come up with something believable. “Oh, nowhere special. Goodnight, Sticks!” I holler and turn around to walk forward.
“Night!” My best friend’s voice leaves me satisfied. He doesn’t judge me for being illiterate, I knew he wouldn’t. But as I stride past the town gates to the tree-lined outskirts, I mentally add one more point to the list of things I need to do here in Collodi: don’t make Pinocchio uncomfortable by confessing your ridiculous crush on him.