Chapter 5
I woke up to a persistent knocking. “Luna? Are you alright?” My dad peeked into my room.
“What time is it?” I exclaimed in a panic, realizing I had overslept and missed my alarm. Panic surged through me as I dashed around, gathering my things. “I had missed the bus!” I could hardly believe it; I never missed the bus.
“Take a deep breath. I can drive you to school,” Dad said, trying to calm me down.
“Okay, I'll be ready in five!” I called out as I hurried to the bathroom.
The rain poured heavily outside as we drove in silence. I plugged in my earphones and immersed myself in music, losing track of time.
When I finally arrived at school, it was about five minutes past the bell. I rushed inside, running through the long corridor to room 404. I knocked on the door before entering the classroom and spotted Emily, who greeted me with a warm smile that eased my nerves.
“I'm sorry for being late; I had a family emergency,” I fibbed. I glanced over at my art history professor, who always seemed to scowl from behind her glasses. With her heavy makeup and perpetually oily skin. Her long dark hair was plastered in place with hairspray, making it look stiff.
I stood patiently, waiting for her to finish writing in the class journal.
“You may take your seat, Ms. Bernardi,” she finally said.
I hurried over to Emily.
“Hey,” I said, hoping we were still on good terms.
“Hey, I thought you might skip school today! I was ready to throw a party for you,” she joked with a grin.
“Come on, I've missed school a few times when I was sick,” I replied.
“I don't remember that, but I do recall you coming in with a high fever last year, and half the class ended up sick,” she teased.
“I didn't!” I shot back sarcastically, and we both laughed.
“Quiet, please!” Professor Mancini bellowed.
“Are you still upset with me?” I whispered to Emily.
“No, I can't stay mad at you,” she assured me, her sincerity shining through.
“I'm relieved to hear that.”
“And what about you? Is everything okay? Did you talk to Marco?” she inquired, concern etched on her face.
“No, I didn't. Was he on the bus today?” I asked hopefully.
“No, but… um, I texted him just to check in on how he was feeling. He's my friend too, after all,” she said, searching my eyes for reassurance.
“And? What did he say?” I asked, my heart racing with anticipation.
“He's fine; he's just taking an earlier bus in the morning and the second bus in the afternoon,” she replied, her tone cautious, as if afraid her words might sting.
“Oh, I see…” I felt a familiar ache in my chest, deeper than I cared to admit. I knew all it would take was a little time to heal these wounds; time would set everything right.
A week slipped by without any notable events. Clous continued to torment Emily with his jokes and unsettling stares, while others simply laughed. Oh, how I longed to tear their heads apart! Just the sight of them made my stomach churn.
My mom spent four out of seven nights in Rome, which was odd; my dad insisted it was due to a major project she was involved in. I still hadn't seen Marco, and I found myself missing him—his warm hugs were something I missed the most.
Jessica was completely caught up in her new boyfriend, whom we hadn't met yet, but she assured us that we would all get together soon.
“Ms. Bernardi, are you with us?” I jumped in my seat when Professor Baldi asked sarcastically. All gazes turned to me.
“I'm sorry, yes, I am.” I froze for a moment, looking outside the window. It had been raining all week, and still, it was a warm rain.
“Yesterday they opened the art lab; they fixed and painted everything,” Emily whispered to me.
“How do you know?”
“I heard others talking in the restroom; they already had classes in there. We have our last class there today, too,” she said excitedly.
“Oh, that's right, I forgot.”
“You forgot? Are you okay?” she asked, concerned, as it was unusual for me. I always knew everything and never forgot things.
“Yeah, it's just that my mom is spending a lot of time in Rome, and I see that it bothers my father.”
“Everything will be okay; I'm sure of it.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
As the bell rang, we moved through the crowd to our last class in the art lab. For some reason, my heart was pounding. Then, suddenly, somebody hit my shoulder hard.
“Watch where you're going, blondie,” Vendetta said through gritted teeth.
“If you hadn't noticed, you bumped into me,” I responded with equal anger.
“Careful…” She came closer; I could smell her breath, which reeked of cigarettes.
“Or what?” I responded.
“You're gonna get hurt,” she said with an evil smile. Then her gaze shifted to Emily. “I enjoyed watching your little show, and I still do,” she said to Emily, who had turned pale.
“Let's go,” I said to Em, grabbing her arm and walking away.
“The game is starting soon,” she shouted behind us, and those words hit sharply; a shiver ran down my spine.
“Don't pay attention to her, Em.”
Our focus shifted once we walked inside the classroom; a strong smell of fresh paint filled the whole room.
“Please open all the windows,” Professor Gerosa shouted. Everyone started plugging their noses and complaining.
“Are you planning to poison us?” somebody laughed, and others cheered.
“Oh, don't be so dramatic. We have no other free classes, so we will stay here.” Professor Gerosa gave me a weird stare. A student cried out, “So let us go home; if I inhale this air, I will die.” Some students acted out a dramatic scene of dying.
When we took our seats, I looked around, remembering how those walls were covered with my name. The desks were freshly painted and clean. Somebody had already started writing something on them.
I could not help but wonder who could have penned that. And more importantly, what could possibly motivate them? Was it Zane or Jake? Or perhaps the eccentric Clous, who thought it would be unsettling? Or maybe V, who mentioned that the game is starting. What did she mean by that?
As much as I wanted to dismiss this as mere coincidence, a troubling thought crept in: was someone in my room, reading my diary?
The very idea sent chills down my spine.
Nobody knew about it; I hadn't shared it with a soul.
So how could this have been happening? A knot twisted in my stomach, and a wave of nausea washed over me.
I raised my hand, urgently needing to excuse myself to the restroom.
“Hey, are you alright?” Emily asked.
“I'm just feeling a bit off,” I replied quickly, hurrying out. My head spun, likely because I hadn't had any water. I needed to buy a bottle from the vending machine, but first, I had to splash some cold water on my face and wrists.
I entered the bathroom, relieved to find it empty. I turned on the faucet and held my wrists under the cold stream. After splashing some water on my face, I felt a bit more grounded.
I stepped outside, making my way toward the vending machine. Just my luck—no water left. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a reflection behind me, and I gasped.
“You look a bit pale,” a deep voice commented as I turned to see Zane standing there.
He moved around and leaned casually against the vending machine, a bottle of water in hand.
My eyes instinctively focused on the bottle; my thirst was undeniable.
“Want some?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“No thanks. I'm pretty sure it's poisoned,” I shot back, irritation creeping into my tone.
“I just got it from here a few minutes ago. Look, it's still sealed.” He held the bottle out to me.
“As I said, no thanks!” I snapped, scanning the machine for any juice instead. His gaze lingered on me, almost tangible in its intensity. I finally turned to face him. “Do you want something?” I asked, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with his presence.
“No, just hanging out,” he shrugged.
“Don't you have a class to be in?”
“Are you worried that I don't?” he teased, grinning.
“I couldn't care less where you are, as long as it's not near me,” I retorted.
“Ouch,” he replied, remaining where he was, unfazed. I couldn't bear to linger any longer, so I walked away, leaving him standing there like a statue. “See you around!” he called out playfully.
“Let's hope not,” I shot back without turning.
Somehow, I managed to get through the class without any water. Before catching the bus home, I stopped at a nearby café to grab a bottle. My shoes were soaked from the relentless rain; even with an umbrella, I arrived home drenched. It had been raining all week.
As I walked up to the front door, I could hear raised voices. I opened the door to find my parents in a heated argument, both panting heavily. I stood frozen, staring at them.
“What's going on?” I asked, my heart racing.
“Nothing, sweetheart, just a discussion,” my dad replied, turning away.
“Mom?” She glanced at me, and I could see a mix of anger and sorrow in her eyes. She didn't respond, instead heading to the kitchen. Left with no choice, I quietly retreated to my room.
Later, as we sat down for dinner, the atmosphere was thick with silence. Both of them stared at their plates, avoiding eye contact. Suddenly, my mom dropped her utensils and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Her gaze was intense and unwavering.
“I've received an incredible opportunity at work. I've been offered a partnership at one of the most famous studios in Rome, starting immediately. We're in the middle of a major project, and I'll need to spend a lot of time there until we figure out a long-term plan.”
I was rendered speechless. What did that mean? Was she planning to leave us—leave me?
“But… you have a studio here,” I managed to say.
“Andrea can handle it on his own. This town is dying anyway; we might as well close it soon,” she replied dismissively.
“But… are you really leaving?” I asked, my voice trembling.