“Nothing wrong with what I’m saying. He’s a nice guy. Just too shy. He needs to get over it and just come out and tell everyone how he feels about you.”
My gaze slides to my knee. “He said he feels awful.”
“I wasn’t talking about your knee.” Dad scoffs as North’s footsteps return in the hall, but he doesn’t shut up. “We all know there’s more going on in that boy’s head than feeling awful.”
Dad’s words drop off right as North returns, and an echo reverberates in the room. I fight the urge to crawl under my blanket. I love my dad dearly, but some days he’s so cringe.“Come on in.” Dad’s boisterous voice fills in the pulsating silence, and I suffer through the next twenty minutes of listening to him tell North all about the new mixer he got at the pizzeria. North’s a good sport and doesn’t let a stray eye linger my way as he stays glued to dad’s every word, leaving me to wonder if it will ever be my turn to talk to North.
Truthfully, it’s very unlikely as he just seems so shy about some things. The fact that he came here at all is really a miracle.
four
North
My lower back is a bay of sweat by the time I finally find a long enough pause in Mr. Bella’s pizzeria stories to excuse myself for the night. He’s alright for a dad, and all, but I get the impression that he’s suspicious of me, like he can tell how much I care about Gia.
Maybe I’m overreacting.
I hope I’m overreacting.
With a cringe on my face, I tiptoe down the hall at record speeds, ready to make a clean break. It’s apparently not my night as I nearly smack into Rocco, who is coming through the kitchen side door. His eyes immediately narrow, skipping over me to bounce on Gia’s open bedroom door then dart back to me. “Sup, Bruh?’
“Nothing.” I rub the back of my neck, forcing myself to appear casual. “Just stopped over to see how Gia is doing.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“Right.” Standing my ground, I jerk a thumb over my shoulder back toward her room. “Dude, your dad’s been here the whole time, feeding us pizza. He had all these stories, and I thought it was rude to leave.”
“Are you for real?” He steps forward, his nostrils flaring out like he’s sniffing me. Even though he plays running back, the dude’s built like a linebacker. But it doesn’t matter if he’s built like a ballerina, he’s not a dude you want in your face. “What do you have going on with my sister?”
“Nothing.” I clamp my mouth shut and wag my head, totally confused he’d care this much. Before I know it, his fist finds my jacket collar, and he slams me against the wall. “I’m only going to tell you one more time. You stay away from her, or else.”
“—Ah, or else.” I scramble to find my footing, and slide against the wall, inching toward the door. I know giving into his taunts will only make it worse, but I really have no intentions of fighting him. I’d rather just walk away.
“Just stay away from her,” he hisses right as Mr. Bella appears in the hall.
Finally,one time Mr. Bella’s magical manifesting power helps me out. “I thought I heard someone out here. How was the dance, Rocco?”
“Fine.” Rocco’s dark eyes never leave my face, and he takes another step, crowding me toward the door. “Just seeing North out.”
“R-right,” I stammer, as the doorknob is finally in reach, and I toss a wave over my shoulder. “Bye, Mr. Bella. See you later, Rocco.”
I’m out the door in the next second, slamming it behind me to race across the yard. I have no idea what got into Rocco. He’s never been that way with me before, but apparently, he’s protective of his sister.
I don’t ever want to see that side of him again.
five
Gia
The next Friday night, dad picks me up from school, but since he has to close the pizzeria, he takes me back with him. We sit in my favorite booth, the one with the red stained-glass tiffany lamp hanging above it, and a black and white photo of the Brooklyn Bridge next to the large window. Rocco—along with all my cheerleading squad—had gone on the bus with the football team to their travel game. As much as I try to be optimistic, it’s hard to be left out. Everyone is gone.
I rest my elbow on the table and plop my chin in my palm to sulk. This is going to be a long football season if I must sit out the entire time. Dad goes behind the counter to grab our pizza, leaving me to stare out the window. The weather even matches my mood, overcast, with thick clouds threatening rain. With the temperature hovering right around that thirty-three-degree mark, rain will easily turn into freezing rain, creating the worst-case scenario for travel. I really hope the bus makes it backtonight, or I might be spending the whole weekend without my friends. I sigh heavily as everyone is experiencing junior year without me.
"I'm glad we have this time together," Dad starts when he returns with a small pizza, taking a moment to center it in the middle of the table, and we both dish up a piece of my favorite pepperoni and jalapeño. While dad stuffs the end of his napkin into his shirt collar, he adds, "I was hoping we could talk."
My expression may have been a bit guarded. Dad and I have always been close, but with everything going way wrong this year, I’m scared of what’s next. "Talk about what?"
“What’s up with Rocco?” Dad’s dark eyes soften, but he doesn’t hold back from taking a bite of his slice before he speaks again, “The coach called me and said he’s been having a lot of issues with his temper, even more than usual.”
