“Did I just save you from the clams or not? I think a tip is in order.”
Strange, slippery bugger, extortionist. I like her, but I have to keep an eye on her, and I refuse to give her a cent. “Look, young lady, you didn’t invent the secret passage. It’s always been there. We used it as kids.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t remember it was there.”
“We would have.”
“But I reminded you first. Do you prefer I inform the Cozzi cousins of your presence?”
The terror of the scene freezes the blood in my veins. “Are you blackmailing me?”
“Let’s say I’m trying to make you understand how much my help is worth.”
“Fine,” I grumble, taking out my wallet. “How much do you want? Is ten okay? Let’s make it twenty ...”
“Fifty euros,” she shoots back decisively.
“Fifty?!”
She stares me down, unwavering. “The network connection doesn’t pay for itself.”
“Pfff, fine. Fifty.” I give up, handing her the bill that she tucks into the pocket of her jeans. “How old did you say you were?”
“I didn’t say. Anyway, I’m thirteen and a half.”
“If you manage to leave Belvedere in a few years, send your CV to Saxton & D’Arcy,” I tell her. “You have what it takes.”
“I’ll think about it. Assuming the company is up to my standards.”
Does she hear herself? “Get out of here, kiddo, before I take my money back.”
“You’re going to need me again.” Her parting sentence sounds like a veiled threat.
“Hey, wait a minute. You talked about connecting to the network ... How can that be? My phone doesn’t get a signal anywhere around here.”
“Oh, there’s a signal. But only on the roof of the annex,” she replies, her voice fading in the darkness of the staircase.
12
Elisa
When I go to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I find Giada busy putting on make-up.
It’s nothing new. Her make-up and hair are perfect every morning, but today something seems different.
Her hand trembles as she struggles to apply her eyeliner, something she can usually do in the dark.
“Elisa, look at me: Are my eyes the same size, or is one bigger than the other?” she asks anxiously.
“They look perfectly identical to me,” I reply, squeezing the toothpaste tube. “But I just woke up three minutes ago and haven’t had my coffee yet.”
“Is the line too thick? Is it too long? I don’t look like Cleopatra, do I?”
“No, you’re beautiful enough to stop traffic, as always,” I reassure her. “This toothpaste tastes strange ...”
My sister snatches the tube from the toothbrush holder and holds it up to my face. “Um ... Elisa ... You didn’t use this by any chance?”
“Yeah, why?”
