“It's okay.I… I think I know what I want to do.I don't want anyone else to know.I'm old enough to handle it myself,” I responded, even though I hadn't fully processed my feelings yet.It felt like I was making a choice right then.V’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Are you certain?”she asked slowly.
“Is that even a question?What would you do if you were in my position?”I pressed.
“I don't know, probably the same,” she admitted, moving toward the window to gaze outside.
After a moment of silence, she turned back to me, looking directly into my eyes.“I made a decision too,” she said, walking closer.“I'm getting my passport and moving to New York, just like Zane wanted.”My heart crumbled into pieces; in this chaotic time, she felt like my closest ally, yet she was planning to leave me.“Come with me,” she urged, and I froze.New York had always been a distant dream, but now that it was a real possibility, it felt overwhelming.“I have friends there who can help us until we get jobs and find our own place.We could be roommates,” her voice brimmed with the hope I had long since lost.
“I… I'm not sure about leaving everything behind,” I stammered.
“Leaving what exactly?”she countered.V had a point; my only ties were to parents who sought to control me.School was finished, and I had no diploma.What future awaited me here?A mundane job at a supermarket, always haunted by memories of the past?
A glimmer of hope sparked inside me—a chance for a new beginning.
“How do we make this happen?”I asked.
“First, you need to take your exams.There's a possibility you could pass.I heard about your mom visiting the principal; Clous’s mom mentioned it,” she said, stepping closer.
“The exam is in two days, and I haven't studied or completed my thesis or any projects.It feels pointless,” I argued.
“Yes, you're right; it does seem pointless.But there's still a chance.Life is about taking chances, so why not start now?”V said, resting her hand on my arm.Her presence ignited a flicker of light within me, or perhaps she was thelight.
My teenage rebellion had led me astray; my parents had only wanted what was best for me, ensuring I had the opportunity to graduate.I had no clue how this would unfold, but I was determined to give it my best shot.For Zane, for his dream of New York.
The entire day, we spent at home alone since Davide had work commitments.That evening, he didn't return; he chose to stay at the apartment because V mentioned he had an early court session the next day.
The night before the exam, I couldn't sleep as I desperately tried to recall everything I had studied.For a moment, I genuinely believed I could succeed.
Davide dropped both V and me off at school, and she was surprisingly supportive.Who would have thought that?
The examination comprised two written tests and one oral, spread out over three days.
When I entered the classroom, I felt the weight of every gaze on me, sharp and penetrating.Their expressions revealed my story: sorrow, fear, anxiety, sympathy, and apathy.
Yet, I felt out of place, as if I belonged to another world.I'd never truly felt like I was part of this school, this classroom.My differences pushed me into isolation, allowing only a few people in.I spotted Emily in the crowd, her faint smile a small comfort.
I took the first available seat, my heart drummed against my ribs, and my palms were clammy.The professor placed a paper in front of me, and I was tasked with analyzing a passage from Dante'sInferno.Dante had always been a favorite of mine, and as I recalled my readings, I found myself drawn to the theme of human free will—how souls are condemned by their choices rather than fate.Zane’s choices…
Tears blurred my vision, falling on the paper.Others watched, but I was beyond caring.I took the entire six hours allotted to write my essay on 'Art as Resistance.'I chose Frida Kahlo as an example, delving into the pain and experiences of women and the disabled.Through her art, Kahlo shared her personal struggles and forged connections with others facing similar battles.This connection empowered voices that needed to be amplified.
In my opinion, art is a profound form of resistance, playing a crucial role in society.By voicing the oppressed, raising awareness of significant issues, and fostering community, art inspires action and drives change.Embracing art as a tool for resistance can pave the way for a brighter, more equitable future for everyone.
I was the last to leave the classroom.I hadn't written a lot, but what I did write was meaningful and direct.
The next exam was the following day, focusing on “Revivalist Futures.”I was required to blend Victorian, Renaissance, and 1920s fashion eras with futuristic materials and sustainable practices to critique fast fashion and celebrate circular design.I had to create an entire collection, but I got lost in the minutiae and couldn't complete it.
The oral exam was scheduled for a week later.My routine at Zane’s home remained unchanged: Davide worked all day and returned for dinner, occasionally staying at the apartment overnight.V was intensely preparing for her final exam, determined to earn her diploma and find a way out.I tried to study, but nothing seemed to stick.
Zane was always with me; I could sense him.Yes, I knew it sounded crazy, but I felt his presence.He was there, sleeping beside me and walking with me.I had even started conversing with him, but just in my mind so nobody would notice.I realized I might have sounded delusional, but it brought me comfort.I would do anything to feel that way.
I eventually adjusted to the morning sickness; it became just another part of my routine.After my exams, I had planned to go to Rome to terminate the pregnancy.I didn't want to go through the procedure here, where it could easily become common knowledge.Still, I suspected people were already gossiping about it.
It was a scorching June day, ideal for a beach trip, ice cream, volleyball, and lounging around.But standing before the exam room felt like preparing to step into Dante's frozen lake of Cocytus.
As I entered the classroom, I saw desks arranged in a half-circle with a solitary chair in the center.It felt as though I was about to be handed a death sentence.My feet felt heavy, as if they were encased in ice.I was already trapped in that lake.When Professor Mancini gestured for me to take a seat, I struggled to move.
Sitting there, I felt as rigid as concrete, bracing for questions that never came.Instead, the twelve professors around me were engrossed in light chatter about their summer plans, dinner menus, or what they had for breakfast that morning.
