Bella Fortuna (2 page)

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Authors: Rosanna Chiofalo

BOOK: Bella Fortuna
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Michael patted my arm. “Don't feel bad. You hear me? You didn't do anything wrong. You're a good girl, Valentina. Mr. Li's a stingy jerk. He once wouldn't let an old lady who was short a quarter walk out of there with a loaf of bread. I gave him the quarter. What a creep.”
I just nodded my head again and continued to look down at the cracks in the sidewalk.
“Well, I gotta get back to school. My lunch break is almost over. But if you want, I'll walk you home.”
I shook my head. “No. That's okay. Thank you.”
“Don't sweat it!”
I turned and began walking home.
“Hey, Valentina!”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder, still not meeting Michael's worried gaze.
“If anyone ever treats you like that again, just tell me. I'll take care of them for you.”
I finally managed to smile at him. He winked at me and then turned around, running to catch up with Sal.
That wink was all it took to make me fall completely in love with Michael. After that day, every time I saw Michael he always winked at me after he said hello. It was as if he knew its power. For with that one wink, I felt myself soar high above the sky, dancing in midair with the birds. Now my childhood fantasies of wedding my prince someday were replaced with dreams of marrying Michael.
And that was how my crush on Michael began. But I had to watch helplessly over the years as he dated one girl after another. When I turned fourteen and puberty finally decided to pay me a visit, filling in my flat chest and narrow hips, Michael still seemed to look at me as if I were that ten-year-old kid whom he'd rescued. I'd noticed his friends staring at me a few times when they thought I wasn't looking, but not Michael. Unlike his friends, his gaze always met mine rather than my boobs, which were already a C-cup at that point. But something had changed in how he treated me. He no longer winked at me after he said hello. In fact, he didn't even try to make me laugh, as he'd loved to do when I was younger. I didn't get it.
So I started dating, having one miserable relationship after another or not having a boyfriend when important occasions arose like a friend's Sweet Sixteen party or my sophomore-year dance. My best friend, Aldo, had gone with me to the dance. I could always count on Aldo when I needed a date. So I'd put on my best poker face and pretended I was having a blast with him when all I could think about was,
Why can't I have a boyfriend for longer than two months? Why can't I have a boyfriend here with me instead of my best friend?
Of course, Michael still wound his way into my thoughts, but not as much since he'd left for Cornell University. I only saw him when he came home for breaks. I was beginning to accept the fact that he'd never have any interest in me as anything more than a childhood friend. I was the little sister he never had, nothing more. Yet from time to time, my mind still wandered to him, wondering what he was doing.
“Swaying room as the music starts . . . strangers making the most of the dark.”
Madonna's “Crazy for You” was playing. I loved this song. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around.
“Wanna dance?”
Michael!
“Hey! What are you doing here?”
“I heard the music from outside. I couldn't resist coming in and catching up with some old friends and teachers.”
“They let you in?”
“Of course! Why not?” He winked at me.
Oh my God! He hadn't winked at me in years. It still had the same bone-melting effect on me.
“Come on. Let's dance.” Michael took my hand, leading me to the dance floor. My heart was racing so fast, I was convinced he could see it. He pulled me close to him as we slowly danced to the music. He rested his chin on my shoulder. I swallowed hard. I should probably make some conversation. But all I wanted to do was close my eyes and listen to the words of Madonna's “Crazy for You.”
“Isn't this such a great song?” Michael pulled his head back and looked into my eyes, smiling.
“You like this song, too?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah, it's one of my all-time eighties favorites, right up there with The Cure's ‘Just Like Heaven.' ”
“Oh my God! I
love
that song!”
“No way!”
“Yeah,
way!
”
We laughed together. He put his chin back on my shoulder.
Again, my insecurities were telling me I should make more of an attempt at conversation. Why couldn't I just relax and enjoy this moment? It would probably never happen again.
“So how's Cornell?” I managed to get out.
“Stuffy and dull!”
“Oh, come on! I can't believe it's all that dull! I can only imagine all the fun you must be having at those parties and all those interesting classes. I can't wait to go away to college.”
“Really?”
“What's so surprising about that? You think I want to stay in Astoria and commute to school? Get real!”
“I don't know. I just thought you'd be like the other Italian girls in the neighborhood and stick close to home. Besides, will your parents let you go away for college?”
“Probably not, but I don't care. I'm going to do it anyway!”
Michael laughed. “You've got spunk! I like that. You
are
different from a lot of the girls around the neighborhood. Promise me you'll stay that way.” Michael pulled his face away and stared into my eyes again, waiting for my promise.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Promise me!”
His face came closer to mine. My heart started pounding again.
“Okay.” I blushed and looked away. He was staring at me in the most peculiar way.
“Good!” He winked at me again and pulled me close to him. I could smell his cologne. Drakkar Noir. Every guy wore Drakkar Noir back then. It just occurred to me that Michael wasn't dressed for a dance. After all, he wasn't planning on coming. I didn't care. He was the sexiest guy here tonight. His dark-wash denim jeans and black V-neck sweater made him look like one of those male models I'd seen on the covers of
Maxim
magazine or
GQ
.
“So you like The Cure, huh?”
“Yeah, they're one of my favorite eighties bands.”
“I might be able to score some tickets to one of their concerts at the Meadowlands this summer. Would you be interested?”
I looked up into Michael's eyes.
“You know. For you and a friend.”
“Oh. Sure. That would be nice.” Just as soon as my hopes had soared, they immediately took a nosedive.
The song was over. We looked at each other a bit uncertainly.
“Thanks for the dance,” I said.
“Hey! No sweat. I'll let you know about the tickets when I'm back in town for the summer. They're supposed to go on sale next Monday, but there's someone at school who scalps them. He said he'd hook me up.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Thanks.”
“I'll catch you later. I want to say hi to Mr. C.”
“Sure. Go ahead.” Boy, I sounded lame! Like he needed my permission to leave.
Michael smiled and looked at me as if he wanted to say something else. Then he walked away.
I made my way to the refreshments table and asked for a Coke. My mouth felt so dry, and my hands still felt shaky. Part of me was elated that Michael had asked me to dance, but another part was disappointed, too. For a second, I thought he was going to ask me to go to The Cure concert with him.
“Hey, Vee! You guys looked amazing! Give me all the juicy details !”
“There are no details to give, Aldo.”
I crossed my arms and searched the room for Michael. Mr. C., the American History teacher at St. John's Prep, was talking to Ms. Vicelli, my English Literature teacher. It looked like Mr. C. was flirting with her, touching her shoulder regularly as he talked animatedly with his hands. He must be bragging about something. Mr. C. often told the most outlandish stories from his days when he was young, as he liked to put it. I couldn't help feeling he had chosen the wrong career path. He loved attention and should've gone into politics or acting. Ms. Vicelli was pretty with light golden brown hair and highlights that framed just her front bangs. It seemed like every male teacher at St. John's Prep was in love with her. She was one of the nicest teachers at school.
Michael approached them and shook Mr. C.'s hand. Ms. Vicelli gave him a hug. Suddenly, I felt jealous. I knew it was crazy to be jealous of Ms. Vicelli. She was, what? A dozen years older than Michael? But still. I wanted it to be me hugging him,
not
her.
Aldo broke in on my thoughts.
“I saw the way Michael was holding you while you guys danced. And the look on his face! He has the hots for you big-time! Trust your big bro Aldo. He always knows best.”
“Well, you couldn't be farther from the truth.”
“Aldo's eyes and instincts have never failed him!”
“Okay, I admit. I thought I was getting a few vibes from him, especially a couple of times when he looked at me extra long.”
“I knew it!”
“Control yourself! There's nothing to it. We talked a little about music, and he's also an eighties music nut like we are.”
“This is getting better and better. And the man has good taste!”
I wanted to smack Aldo.
“Well, he told me he might be able to get tickets for The Cure this summer. He asked me if I was interested.”
“Ahhhhh!!!!” Aldo grabbed my shoulders and shook me back and forth. A few people standing near us looked at him and frowned.
“He then added, ‘For you and a friend.' ”
“Oh my God! You
have
to take me! You
have
to take me! I'll never talk to you again if you don't.” Aldo jumped up and down. Then he suddenly stopped.
“Wait. This is
not
good. I'm so sorry.”
“I was beginning to wonder how long it would take for your brain to register what I said.”
“Oh, Vee! I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot. Here you are thinking Michael is finally going to ask you out on a date, only to have him say he'll get you a pair of tickets to go with someone else, and I'm thinking about myself.”
“It's okay. I know how much you love Robert Smith. If it were someone else, I wouldn't have forgiven you.” I smiled, letting Aldo know we were good.
“Vee, I think it's the jail-bait thing. I really do. He's just waiting for you to turn eighteen, and once you do, he's going to ask you out. I'm sure of it.”
Michael was now eighteen years old compared to my fifteen, hence, the jail-bait issue.
“I wish I could share your optimism, Aldo. But I'm too realistic. You're also forgetting that he was dating Danielle Santucci in the fall. She's just seventeen.”
“But you're different. He respects you. Danielle has no class. Everyone knows she lost her virginity when she was in sixth grade, for crying out loud.”
“You don't know if that's true. It's just a rumor! And I can't see Michael dating someone who would have a rep like that.”
“I'm sure he heard about it and that's
exactly
why he dated her.”
“He's not like that, Aldo.”
“Excuse me, Miss DeLuca. Does Michael have a penis?”
I shook my head.
“No, he doesn't? You are holding out on me. How long have you been sleeping with him?”
“That's not why I'm shaking my head, and you know it.”
I couldn't help laughing at what he'd said.
“Aldo, stop being so sarcastic all the time! You know the closest I've ever gotten to him is this dance we shared tonight.”
“But you do agree that he is a man?”
“This is stupid, Aldo.”
“Just humor me, for once, please!”
“I'm always humoring you. I know where you're going with this. Just because he's a man doesn't mean he thinks like every other man out there.”
“Vee, you're being naive. I know Michael is a nice guy, but a guy nonetheless. Men can't turn off their sexual needs as easily as women can.”
“Hey, watch it! That sounds sexist. I thought you were on our side anyway!”
“Of course, I'm always on the woman's side. But as you like to say, ‘I'm being realistic.' ” Aldo smirked. “I just think you're placing Michael on this high pedestal that no human—man or woman—could ever live up to. He's going to fall off it if you expect so much from him and keep thinking he's perfect.”

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