Chapter Two
We don’t have class the next morning. Instead, we’re rehearsing for graduation at our private American school. It’s all the Dips, along with some other American kids whose families are living here, a few Italian kids whose parents want them to learn in English, and a bunch of diplomatic kids from other countries. There’s a six-foot-four Russian kid we think is a spy because he’s constantly pumping us for information about what our parents do, and a weird kid called Ed, who won’t tell us where he’s from. Patrick insists he’s a thirty-year-old cyber ninja on the lam from China.
A lot of kids have family coming in because it’s Rome, and who doesn’t want an excuse to come to Rome before the high summer tourist crush? We’re sitting in the class that serves as our theater, music room, lunchroom, and parent-night refreshment stand while Dr.Stockton makes us go over the program so we don’t disappoint our parents. I’m in the back, wedged between Jack and Ed, the weird kid from parts unknown whose real name is definitely not Ed, while Kelsey flirts with Patrick, and Alicia fixes her forever truffle-nude lipstick in her forever-at-her-fingertips compact. Guin’s on her phone because it’s the closest thing she has to a meaningful relationship.
The air-conditioning here isn’t like in the States. The room is becoming moist, and we’re all wishing Dr.Stockton would wrap it up and let us go, but he seems intent on keeping us as long as he can.
“Story,” Jack says, “did you get your welcome package from Princeton?” He’s sitting on his chair with it backward, and he leans to the side toward me. His straight dark hair falls just short of his green eyes.
I nod.
“I apply there,” Ed says. “They tell me I need more documents. I tell them, ‘No, thank you!’?” He bobs his head up and down like this makes any sense.
Jack looks at him a moment and says, “Cool.” Then he turns back to me. “I hope we get assigned to the same dorm. I’d like to know someone.”
“Really?” I glance at him. “I thought you’d be perfectly fine going in there solo.”
“Me? No. I’m used to having Patrick around. He usually does the meeting-new-people stuff. I’m six minutes younger, after all.” His smile is effortlessly disarming. He’d probably be okay if he didn’t have Patrick to follow.
“So how come he’s not going to Princeton, too? Even your dad’s connections couldn’t get past his grades?”
Jack chuckles. “Probably not, but actually, that was my dad’s idea. He thinks I need to learn to ‘come into my own.’?” He says this in the thick Boston accent his dad has. Jack has lived abroad long enough not to have it.
I nod and smile a little. “Well, I think you’ll do fine without your brother. I guess I’m lucky I don’t have a dad to worry about me like that.”
Jack’s smile vanishes. I don’t really know how much the Dips know about my dad, or lack thereof, but my guess would be they know the gruesome parts. The diplomatic corps isn’t that big, and people love gossip.
“I’m sorry Patrick messed with you so much. It’s only because he needs a lot of attention and doesn’t really know how to get it. It’s nothing about you, honest.”
I wonder if he means what he’s saying or if he thinks it’s better to strike a truce with me, since we’ll be the only people we know going into Princeton. When I think back on it, I can’t ever remember Jack being a jerk to me, but he never stood up for me, either.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll make a lot of friends on the soccerteam.”
Jack’s good enough that he plays with an Italian team here and got a partial athletic scholarship.
He smiles. “Yeah, but none of them will know what it’s like to hide out in Rome’s secret places, like the Keats house.”
Did he see me yesterday in the window? “How do you—”
“Pay attention, please, people,” Dr.Stockton barks out, and we all shut up and do a dry run of the procession once more. Then he has the Italian girl who is our valedictorian go through her whole speech. Again. She’s about halfway through the part about how she’ll never forget any of us, even though she doesn’t know half our names, including Ed’s, when Guin shouts out, “Oh my God!”
“Guin, please,” Dr.Stockton says harshly enough that anyone with sense would be quiet. But that’s not Guin.
“But, Dr.Stockton, this is huge!”
Dr.Stockton smooths his hair back into its comb-over. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong? Has the Pope died or something?”
Guin turns to me, her eyes as buggy as mine must have been in the paparazzi picture last night, and I know she’s seen one of those photos. “How do you know Luca Kinnaird?”
“Who is Luca Kinnaird?” Dr.Stockton says as the room bursts into motion. Our valedictorian asks if she should finish her speech, the Russian kid grabs his phone, presumably to Google Luca, and Ed is saying with more incredulity than I think is necessary, “Story, with Luca Kinnaird, really?”
Even Ed knows who Luca is?
Guin is shoving her phone in my face. Yep, there I am, looking like a bug-eyed, tournament-winning mackerel, dripping stracciatella, while Luca is holding on to me as if he’s some drop-dead-gorgeous movie star completely at ease with flashing cameras.
“We should be focusing on the procession,” I say, hoping Dr.Stockton will put an end to this.
“Guys, check this out,” Alicia says as she studies her phone, and a group of our classmates huddle around her.
“Can I see that?” I ask Guin. She hands me her phone with a glance that makes me feel like we’re eight and she thinks I’ll contaminate it.
“Story, how do you know Luca Kinnaird?” Jack asks, looking from his phone to my face.
I just shake my head and read about how Luca and his new “mystery girlfriend” were spotted in the Piazza di Spagna sharing a gelato and sweet nothings. The article says we tried to fool them by telling them I was Luca’s tour guide. There’s also a picture of me coming out of Gucci with a small shopping bag. At least my mouth isn’t full of food in that one. What tour guide shops at Gucci? the article asks. No, after seeing these two love birds at the Trevi, it’s clear that heartbreaking Luca has another conquest to add to his collection. Nice try with the tour guide story, including some believable Italian by the young lady. In an exclusive, we’ve discovered she’s an American exchange student, but the only thing she seems to be studying is our favorite Scottish heartthrob. Will Luca break this American girl’s heart, too? We’ll keep you posted, because nothing happens in Rome without us knowing!
The screen goes dark, and I hand the phone back to Guin. For the first time since I’ve known her, she’s right.
Oh my God.