7. ANTONIO
ANTONIO
M a had woken me up earlier that morning to tell me Joey would pick me up and drive me to and from school. She had already left with Mr. Davidson, who came by to take her to open the corner store. When I heard the car horn beep outside, I grabbed my backpack and headed out the front door. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled to ride shotgun in a brand new Ferrari. It had a fresh, black paint job and cream interior seats. It was miles better than Mom’s old, beat-up blue Chevrolet.
“How you liking school?’ Joey asked me as I settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s better than my old school,” I told him.
“Where’d you guys move from again?” he asked as he drove slowly down the street. “Newark, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. The flashbacks crept in, threatening to overwhelm me, but I forced them down. Ma and I never talked about that night. I didn’t know if we ever would. She’d been through enough with my father—taking every punch, every hit, every broken rib. I used to wonder why she stayed, why she put up with his wrath for so long. But that night, I stood up to him. A bold move. And Ma had no choice but to stand with me. But now, neither of us could erase what happened. And talking about it? That wasn’t an option, either.
“Yeah, change can be good sometimes,” he said, nodding in agreement. “Staten Island’s quiet. Safe. A good place for you and your ma.”
“Yeah,” I replied, giving a slight nod. “It’s better with just the two of us. More peaceful. I like it this way.”
“How old are you anyway, kid?” He smiled at me briefly before his eyes returned to the road.
“Almost fourteen,” I told him. I would be fourteen in December, nine months away, but I could hardly wait.
“Fourteen?” He smirked. “Alright, young man. You gotta look out for your mother, then. Take care of her, you know? You’re the man of the house now. She’ll need you to step up.”
Did he know about our past? Had Ma told him about that night we left?
“Do you have a family?” I asked him, curious to know who he was. He drove the nicest car in town, and looked loaded with nice suits and fancy watches.
He chuckled. “Got some folks I look after, but it ain’t the same. It’s complicated. Now listen,” he said, stopping the car in front of my school. “You need someone to watch your back at school, give you advice on handling bullies or any kind of life stuff, you come to me, alright? I know we just met, but we take care of each other in this neighborhood.”
I nodded as I grabbed my backpack.
“Your mother’s doing all this for you. Gotta appreciate that, even if it don’t make sense yet,” he told me. “Alright, kid. Go knock ‘em dead. And if anyone gives you trouble, you tell ’em Joey’s got your back, alright?”
“Joey, who?”
“Joey. Joey Romano.” He winked. I stepped out of the car, glancing back at Joey with a small, uncertain smile before heading into the school.
Who was this guy, and why was he so damn cool?
If I’m being honest, I was probably the happiest I’d ever been. For once, I didn’t have to worry about my father hurting my mother or enduring his relentless abuse. I didn’t have to see the aftermath—the shattered glass, the bruises, the blood, the lifeless look in Ma’s eyes. I knew it would take a long time for her to heal from everything she’d been through, but she was starting to make progress. She smiled more. Laughed more. But I knew she was still holding on to the “what ifs.” Always scanning every room we entered. Always looking over her shoulder. What if they find us? What would happen then? But I’d never let anyone hurt her again. Even if the feds found us, I’d never let them tear us apart. She killed him to protect me. I was the man of the house now. And it was my responsibility to look after us. So I would.
“Hey, Antonio,” someone called from behind me. I turned around and found myself face to face with Louis, a kid who hung out with Giovanni—my arch-nemesis, since I set foot in Staten Island Middle School two weeks ago.
“Was that Joey who dropped you off just now?” he asked, a smirk creeping onto his face.
“Why you asking?” I puffed out my chest, crossed my arms, trying to insert my dominance.
“Oh, no reason. You know he’s Giovanni’s stepdad, right?”
No, I didn’t know that. I’d just asked Joey if he had a family, and all he said was that he “took care of people” and that “it was complicated.” Not a word about being Giovanni’s stepfather.
“Do you ever mind your own business?” I asked him.
“You know what he does for a living, right?” Louis tested, his smirk never faltering. “He’s in the mafia,” Louis said. “So is Giovanni’s grandfather. That’s why Giovanni’s untouchable .”
Untouchable? Now that was comical .
Giovanni had been working my nerves so bad lately that it felt like a full-time job. I could barely hold myself back from beating the shit out of him. But he might catch me on a bad day if he kept pushing.
“Don’t end up in the trunk,” Louis added with a wink before walking off.
“What the hell was that about?” Enzo asked as he walked up to me.
“You know Louis and his bullshit,” I said, brushing it off.
“What’s he talking about? ‘Don’t end up in the trunk?’” Enzo pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s just trying to get a reaction out of me,” I replied. “And he almost got one.”
“ Almost ?” Enzo shot me a skeptical look. “Man, you looked ready to knock him out. I say we team up and knock his ass out once and for all.”
“Trust me, it took everything I had to hold back,” I admitted. “The guy’s such a pain in the ass. But if I let him get to me, he wins. Because my mom would fucking kill me for getting into a fight at school.”
Enzo shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. If someone said that to me, I’d lose my shit.”
I smirked. “You’ve got to pick your battles, Enzo. Louis? He’s not worth it. But Giovanni? If he pushes me one more time, he’s getting everything he’s asking for.”
“Alright, man,” Enzo said with a shrug. “Just don’t end up suspended. Or worse, in the trunk, apparently.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not happening. But if anyone’s getting shoved in a trunk, it’s the two of them.”
We laughed as we started walking toward class. Enzo was a lot like me. He was the first friend I made when I arrived on Staten Island, and, honestly, he was probably the best friend I’d ever had .
“Where’s Michael?” I asked Enzo, glancing around the hallway.
“Who knows? Probably off playing teacher’s pet somewhere, kissing up so he doesn’t have to do homework or something.” Enzo shrugged.
The two of us were laughing when Michael strolled up next to us. “What’s so funny?” he asked, squinting at us.
“Nothing, teacher’s pet,” Enzo said with a smirk, elbowing me in the ribs. I fell over, letting out a laugh I couldn’t hold in.
“Teacher’s pet? Really? Not this shit again.”
“I mean…” I started, grinning.
“Let’s be real, Michael,” Enzo added, “you were definitely in there trying to earn extra credit. Again . The only kind of extra credit I want is with that new nurse we got. You know how many times I’ve been to the nurse’s office this week? And it’s only Tuesday.”
I snickered.
Michael shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Okay, for the record, I was not kissing up to anyone. I was helping Mr. Richards fix the printer. It’s not fair that the teachers are here to give us a good chance at a better life, and they barely have proper working equipment to do so.”
Enzo dramatically moved his hands back and forth, mimicking Michael’s rambling on.
Michael rolled his eyes. “And for the record, Mr. Richards said I was the most helpful student he’s ever had. I’ve fixed the printer for him twice in a week.”
“Oh, now he’s bragging,” I said, clutching my chest like I’d been offended.
Enzo pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “We’re so proud of you, Michael.”
The three of us laughed, earning a few side-eyes from kids passing by in the hallway.
Michael was the second friend I made when I came to Staten Island, and Enzo introduced us. The two of them had been best friends since they were kids, practically since diapers. Michael differed greatly from Enzo and me, but he balanced us out. Michael was calm, collected, and serious, while we were hyper, impulsive, and always messing around. But every now and then, he’d crack a joke with us.
He had big dreams and the brains to back them up. As for me? I was just skating by, barely passing my classes with a C average. I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to be. The jokes masked the feelings I had inside—the anger, the sadness. It was easier to pretend I wasn’t feeling those things. That I didn’t close my eyes and watch my mother shoot my father dead, right in front of me. A secret I couldn’t tell a soul. Every day I kept it locked away, it gnawed at me.
“You know, Louis did say something interesting,” I told Michael and Enzo, trying to gauge their reactions. “He said Joey’s in the mafia. I always thought the mafia was fake. Is that shit real?” I asked them, watching as they exchanged a knowing look—one that immediately gave them away. They knew something I didn’t. “Hey! Don’t leave me out of this!” I shot at them. “Is it real or fake?” I demanded.
Michael shrugged. “I mean, honestly, how would we know?”
“Yeah, it’s not like anyone’s confirmed it,” Enzo added.
“But you know something, don’t you?” I pressed. “Something I don’t.”
“No, we don’t!” Michael said quickly, throwing a glance at Enzo.
Enzo shifted his weight. “Nobody’s ever said to me the mafia is real. Now, whether or not I believe it’s real or fake. Well, that’s a different story.”
“Well?” I asked, pushing him further. “Do you believe it’s real or fake? And don’t look at Michael!”
Enzo hesitated for a moment. “I think it’s real. ”
I turned to Michael, my eyes narrowing. “Yeah, so do I,” he added, confirming what I already suspected.
“And Joey? Do you think he’s in the mafia?”
“Maybe if you didn’t spend all your time flirting with Mia and laughing at Enzo’s stupid jokes, you might find time actually to read the papers. That’ll give you all the answers you need.”
And just like that, I added one more thing to my to-do list—figuring out if the mafia was real.
Later that day, Joey and I sat on a bench at the park, just a short drive from my school. Joey was making an effort to ease the awkwardness between us. He’d brought me a cold can of soda when he picked me up, and now we sat side by side, watching kids toss a baseball back and forth. As people passed, they greeted him casually, as if he were another familiar face in the neighborhood. No one seemed intimidated by him. If he was involved in the mafia, wouldn’t they be scared of him?
He gestured towards the two young boys tossing the baseball back and forth, and asked me, “You into baseball, kid?”
“A little.” I shrugged. “My mom doesn’t let me play much, though. Says it’s too dangerous. She says everything’s too dangerous, now that I think of it.”
“Dangerous?” He chuckled. “What’s she think you’re gonna do? Take a fastball to the head?”
I stifled my laugh and shrugged. “She worries about everything.”
“Moms are like that. It’s in the job description,” he said, sipping from his soda can. “You got a team you root for?”
“I guess I like the Yankees.” I shrugged. “I’ve never been to a game, though.”
“Never?”
“Nope,” I said, shaking my head.
“Huh. Well, that’s gotta change,” he declared with a nod.
“What do you mean?” I asked, arching my eyebrow .
“I mean,” he said with a grin, “I’m takin’ you to a Yankees game. Gotta fix this tragedy of yours. Every kid deserves to see a game, eat a hot dog, and complain about overpriced peanuts.”
“I don’t know if my mom will let me go.” I frowned, knowing she was still too terrified that the feds would find us.
“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll handle your mom. Besides, this ain’t just a game—it’s a rite of passage. Trust me, you’ll love it.” He smiled widely.
“Really? You’d take me?” I asked, mirroring his smile. “Just like that?”
“Of course,” he exclaimed. “What’s the point of livin’ this close to Yankee Stadium if you never step foot inside? How about this Saturday?”
“Yeah, okay!”
“Then it’s a date,” he said, patting his hand against my shoulder. “Just don’t tell anyone I got a soft spot for kids, alright? I got a reputation to maintain.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I grinned.
Surely, if Joey were truly who Louis said he was— a mafia gangster —he wouldn’t be this nice to kids.