“Luna,” she finally spoke, and my dad exchanged glances with her.“You've missed a lot of school, and I've made several calls and met with the principal.I have some hope.Considering everything that's happened, the school is willing to give you a chance to take your exams, and if you pass, you'll graduate.”Her excitement was palpable, but I remained silent, avoiding eye contact.School seemed trivial.Nothing mattered to me anymore, and a surge of anger bubbled up within me.
“What's the point?I'm having a baby, and the diploma won't even be good enough to clean its butt,” I shot back, my voice laced with frustration.My mother slammed her fist on the table, the sound startling both me and my dad.
“Enough,” my dad said firmly, his nostrils flaring.“I know it's been tough, but you need to finish school.”
“Why?”I pressed defiantly.
“Why?”my mom echoed, her anger was evident.“Because we say so.We're your parents, and we will decide what you need to do.”The tension in her voice was palpable, the veins in her forehead throbbing.Speechless, I stood up and headed for the stairs.
“Where do you think you're going?”my dad asked, disappointment heavy in his tone, but I was growing accustomed to disappointing those around me.I didn't respond.Deep down, I knew I wasn't being fair, but as a teenager, rebellion was my only outlet.I grabbed a backpack, stuffing it with essentials, along with my diary and Zane’s, and made my way to the door.
“Where are you going?”my mom rushed to intercept me, disbelief written all over her face.
“As far away as I can, so you won't have to be ashamed of your pregnant, school-dropout daughter,” I retorted, leaving her momentarily speechless.I could sense her desire to chase after me, to shout, maybe even to hit me, but my dad held her back, a reminder of our therapy: no violence, no outbursts of anger.
I stepped onto the gravel road, my backpack slung over my shoulder.Pulling out my phone, I dialed the number on the sticker Valentina had left me.I was determined to catch the last bus to Zane’s house, a place I'd never been before.
I felt trapped, as if everything was getting out of control.I was on the brink of surrendering.Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, and all I craved was a moment of peace.I longed for someone to talk to.
Sure, Jessica, Emily, and Marco had come to see me at the hospital, attended Zane’s funeral, and visited me at home, but I knew they wouldn't truly grasp what I was feeling.I couldn't share my thoughts with any of them.Marco had an inkling that something was wrong, yet he never brought it up, leaving me with the gnawing feeling that perhaps he thought I was to blame.At this point, only V comprehended the depth of my feelings; she knew everything.
When I got off the bus, I spotted V stepping out of her father's car.When she approached me, she surprised me with a hug, then took my hand and led me to the vehicle.I slid into the back seat, and Davide turned to me with a gentle, sorrowful smile that felt warm—a stark contrast to our previous encounters in the apartment.
The drive lasted about five minutes, taking us to a sprawling house on the plains, surrounded by fields and trees.The house was a two-story yellowish building with red clay tiles, a small balcony, and a grand terrace on the opposite side.A modest metal fence enclosed the property, and Davide went ahead to unlock the gate.
Stepping inside, I could almost see the little red-haired Zane running carefree, and it pained me.The house, though old, was well-kept.The kitchen, adorned with oak wood, featured a large fireplace and a massive wooden table at its center, with a rocking chair positioned nearby.
V encouraged me to walk straight ahead until we reached a living room filled with natural light from large windows.I caught sight of a burgundy couch flanked by two matching chairs, plants scattered about, and photographs on the walls, but we didn't linger there; we ascended the stairs.
The second floor had three bedrooms and a bathroom—a typical layout.V introduced me to her room, which had a fresh coat of paint and a minimalist design: a black wooden bed frame with two matching nightstands, a three-door black closet, and a gray desk stacked with books.
“It still had pink walls; we just renovated and bought new furniture before…” she trailed off, the implication clear—before the accident.“But you'll be staying in Zane’s room.That one hasn't changed since he was a kid,” she said, approaching a chestnut door marked with a stop sign and handwritten text underneath:"Unless you're bringing snacks, please knock before entering."
When the door swung open; my heart sank, pounding against my still-healing ribs.The room was a time capsule, untouched since he had last been there.The soft blue walls were decorated with an eclectic array of posters showcasing iconic architectural landmarks: the Eiffel Tower, the Sydney Opera House, and the soaring skyscrapers of New York City—his dream destination.A sturdy wooden desk was cluttered with sketchbooks filled with building designs, while a bookshelf housed novels and architecture books, some well-thumbed, others pristine, waiting to be read.
The king-sized dark gray bed was covered with a navy-blue duvet and adorned with dark pillows.Above it, shelves displayed figures, curious rocks, and capoeira trophies.A small stereo sat on the nightstand, and walls displayed photos from his trips to London capturing cherished moments with his mom, highlighting the city's stunning architecture.
A capoeira berimbau leaned against the wall, symbolizing his dedication to the art, while a world map, dotted with pins, marked the places he dreamed of exploring.This room was filled with his aspirations and passions, now forever unfulfilled.
My heart ached, and I felt tears threaten to spill.I could still catch a hint of his scent; closing my eyes, I imagined he would envelop me in a strong embrace, making all the pain fade away.Just then, without me noticing, V wrapped her arms around me, and we stood together, sharing the same grief as tears streamed down our faces.She held me tightly, as if trying to connect with a part of him that lingered within me.
Once she released me, she apologized and expressed her sorrow, but I shook my head, assuring her it was okay.We settled on the bed, taking in the surroundings.
“So, what happened?”she asked softly.
“I can't stay in that house anymore,” I replied, lowering my gaze.
“I spoke to my dad about you staying longer, and he's okay with it,” V said, a comforting smile on her face.
“Really?Why?”I asked, bewildered.I couldn't fathom what had changed; I assumed he would blame me for his son's death.
“Why?Did you read the diary?”V asked, her surprise mirroring my own.
“Not yet.I just can't bring myself to,” I confessed.
“You should,” she urged, making me actually consider it.
“May I ask you something?”I ventured, unsure how to frame the question.She nodded.“On the day of the accident… you and Marco were behind us, right?”
