I stared at the name on the email Mrs. Rogers had sent out with more hope than I thought I could possibly muster. Whoever Isabella Bianco was, she was a godsend. At least, that’s what I was hoping.
I had only been at the school for a week, but for me this year was going to be a fresh start. A way to right all my past wrongdoings. Trust me, there were a lot of wrongdoings to amend for. Isabella didn’t know that, though. With her, I could be the new version of myself that I had been working on for more than half the year.
Meeting someone who couldn’t possibly know about my past was the best thing that could have happened at the start of this year. It had been an awkward week for me so far. For the first few days, I almost fell back into the person I used to be. The hot, rich, bad-boy type. Breaking rules, breaking hearts, breaking the spirit of those I thought beneath me.
Any time I felt that way, though, I remembered why I didn’t want to be that guy. The pain of that memory was always enough for me to put my head down and turn back into the new insecure guy I actually had become.
Three months was a long time to get to know a person. It would be impossible to spend so much time working on this assignment and not make a friend, right? Even though I was new, Mrs. Rogers, I assumed, had gotten some information about me from my previous school. More than I probably wanted her to. I’m not sure why she picked Isabella to be my partner, but I hoped she would be exactly the fresh start I needed.
Opening the second email, which should include the contact information for our partners, I couldn’t wait to get started. I expected to have a few ways to contact her and wanted to use them all, but Mrs. Rogers’s email just had one phone number listed. I reached for my phone and dialed.
“Enzo’s Italian Restaurant. Are you placing an order for pickup or delivery?”
I stared at the phone, confused. The voice on the other end talked a little louder.
“Hello?”
Clearing my throat, I managed to find my voice.
“Oh, um. Sorry. I’m actually looking for Isabella Bianco. Does she work there?”
The woman on the other end held her hand over the receiver, I think, and then shouted something in Italian. A man responded and then the woman’s voice returned to me.
“She’s not in until tomorrow.”
“Do you know of a way I might be able to contact her?”
I could tell the lady was starting to get annoyed.
“No.”
With a sigh, I followed up with the only two questions I could think of.
“Do you know when she will be there tomorrow, and may I have the address to the restaurant?”
The woman frowned. At least, I imagined she did.
“Why are you so interested in Isabella?”
“We are supposed to do a school project together and I wanted to get started.”
The woman held the phone away from her ear.
“Alessandro, take this call.”
There was a small argument about why Alessandro needed to talk to me, but eventually a new voice came on the line.
“Is this for Mrs. Rogers’s class?”
Surprised by the question and by the fact that this guy knew about our assignment, I nervously replied, “Yes. This was the only contact information on file for Isabella.”
“She will be in tomorrow for the lunch shift. Eleven to three.”
He gave me the address as well, and then, after a pause, he stated, “Izzy, she’s a special girl. Don’t be a douche to her.” With that, he hung up.
I was left wondering if maybe rumors of my reputation had been passed on to this school or if the man was just protective of Isabella and would have said that to any guy calling. A bit disappointed that I would need to wait one more day to meet my new friend, I hopped in my car and headed home.
The cost of finally making a new friend: one more night alone.
