Later, I heard someone whispering in the hallway. I think they said Gio's leaving. Like not just leaving town, but leaving the country. Leaving Italy. For good. I don't know if it's true. Nobody told me. But if it is…I don't know what to do.
I went up to mom and asked, and she said "sweetheart, we'll talk soon," which is code for "I'm hiding something." And then I asked Daisy and she said, "I don't know the whole story." But her voice went all quiet so I think she does know the whole story and doesn't want to tell me.
Why would Gio leave? Is it something I did? Did something happen to him?
Update:
I think…someone died. I think his dad died. I don't know how. Nobody will tell me. But everyone has the same face they had when nana died. That weird, quiet face like they're walking on glass. But I also might have heard wrong.
And then, to make it even more confusing, this girl from the other class, her name is Giulia, tried to kiss me after school today. She just leaned in and I froze. I didn't move at all. I think she thought I was being polite but honestly, I didn't want to.
She's pretty. She smells like strawberries. I like strawberries. So I should have wanted to. But I didn't. And now I feel weird. I just kept thinking…I wonder if Gio's okay. I wonder where he is. I wonder if he's already gone.
And I wonder why it hurts my stomach when I think about not seeing him again. I told Daisy once that I think Gio's annoying. That he pulls my hair and calls me "nerd" and "Ravioli" because my name is Rava. But the truth is…I don't want him to go.
Even if he calls me names. Even if he acts like I'm invisible half the time. I don't want Gio to leave. I know I always act like he's annoying. Like he's just this loud, stupid guy who messes with my hair and makes fun of how I hold my pen.
But…I made something for him. Something small. To cheer him up, since his friends don't seem to know what happened. It's this fake motorcycle, I made it out of wires and pieces of broken pencils and some foil from the kitchen. It doesn't move or anything, obviously. But it kinda looks like a real bike! I was gonna paint it tomorrow. I used red and black, 'cause those are his favorite colors, and I shaped it like that Ducati he keeps talking about.
The one he says he'll ride "straight into the sunset one day." I am going to give it to him on Monday. I even have a whole sentence in my head, like a movie or something. I'm gonna say:
"Here. Now maybe you'll think I'm kinda cool too." Maybe then he'd stop looking at me like I'm just a boring little kid with glasses and a million books. Maybe he'd think I'm like his friend, Luigi. Or…maybe even Elio. But I don't think I'll get to give it to him. Okay. Maybe he won't go. I mean…I heard them whispering something about Spain. But Spain is far, right?
Maybe he just said that to scare people. Gio does that. He likes making things dramatic. But…maybe he'll change his mind. Maybe he'll stay here. Italy's nicer, right?
Better food. Better sunsets. Better motorbikes. Better people. Me! And I bet in Spain he won't find anyone like me. No one to throw books at him when he's being stupid. No one to glare at him across the classroom.
No one to kick him under the table when he deserves it. No one who pretends to be annoyed but actually doesn't mind when he sits next to me. Or steals my snacks. Or laughs too loud.
Yeah. Maybe he'll stay. Maybe he'll remember me and think: Wait. Rava was kinda cool sometimes. Maybe I won't go. We have hope. I'm gonna believe in that.
UPDATE:
He's gone. He left. He actually left. Took his stupid bag and his stupid everything and he didn't even say goodbye. No note. No message. No joke. No dumb wink from across the room like always. He just left. And now? I hate him.
I hate him for making me think he might stay. I hate him for making me build that stupid tiny motorcycle. I threw it under my bed. I don't even want to see it. Why would he leave? Why would he go to Spain of all places? There are probably zero cool kids in Spain. Spain sucks. Motorbikes probably don't even work there. The roads are probably made of slime or something.
I hope he hates it. I hope he misses my face every day. And I hope he knows I'm mad. Really mad. Because I would've said goodbye.
I would've said goodbye.
Gio closes the notebook. I see it.
A tear. Just one. Slipping down his cheek. He brushes it away quickly, almost angrily, like it betrayed him. And suddenly I feel awful. "Gio…" I whisper, shifting closer. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I didn't mean to bring back all that stuff. With your dad. That time, I know it was—" But he doesn't let me finish.
He pulls me onto him. Fast. I land on his chest, and he wraps both arms around me tightly. He buries his face into the side of my neck. He doesn't say anything, he just keeps running his fingers slowly through my hair, but now there's somethingdifferent about the way he touches me. Like he's holding ten-year-old me in his hands too. And he's scared of breaking him.
"The irony is…" he says, "now I'm the one who doesn't want you to leave."
I blink at him. Slowly. I know what he means. The ticking clock. The last few days. The goodbye that's looming again, and this time, it's mine to give.
I glance up at him, and I see the shift in his eyes. His throat moves like he's trying to swallow something down. "Please don't cry," I whisper, nudging his leg with my elbow. "Because if you cry, I'll cry. And then we're gonna be a mess."
He lets out a soft laugh through his nose. His hand slides down from my hair to my jaw, tilting my face up a little. "I'm not crying," he says. "I'm just blaming the dust in your room."
I smile, leaning into his touch. "You know…" he murmurs, thumb brushing the edge of my cheek, "your younger self, he was right."
I raise an eyebrow. "About what? That you're cooler than Luigi?" Gio huffs. "No. I mean, about Italy. It's better here. Way better." He pauses. "And no, I didn't find anyone to tease like I teased you. Not even close."
