Poor Little Rich Boy

Chapter Two: Life Lessons

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"Some-a years later, I get to school-"

"And you're in trouble again, right?"

"Many times, Sabrina- many, many times…"

"So what did they do? Time-outs? Detentions?"

"Worse- paddlings."

"Ouch- that had to hurt! Weren't those outlawed?"

"Not-a at that time, not-a in Italia, and certainly not-a in the Catholic schools…"

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Young Nasaccio sat quietly in the corner of the headmaster's office. He was in trouble again, this time for starting another fight on the playground. As far as he was concerned, that kid deserved a beating- he took the last good dodge-ball, and he was clearly there before the other boy. Not to mention, he didn't take "finders keepers" for a valid answer.

The headmaster, a stout older bull, stared at Nasaccio intently. He was nearly at his wit's end with this kid- no punishment was effective enough for him. This was strange, especially considering his parents enrolled him in a Catholic school partially to curb his violent tendencies.

A knock came to the door. "Me scusa? Padre Massi?" a familiar woman's voice said.

Turning his head, the headmaster gestured the woman outside to come in. "Be seated," he advised.

The door opened, and Maria Cornetto stepped inside. She sighed in dismay, seeing her son seated in the other chair. She always hated coming in for these meetings; she didn't know what she did wrong for her son to turn out like this. She felt so hopeless in these situations.

Once Maria was seated, the headmaster- Father Massi- began the discussion. "Signora," he addressed, "we must-a have a talk about-a young Nasaccio."

Afraid to ask, Maria looked up at Father Massi. "What has he done this time?"

Nodding, Father Massi glanced at his notebook. "This would-a be the fifth time this-a month he has-a started a fight," he informed. "So far, he has-a also been accused of seven thefts, four acts of-a vandalism, and-a popping the tires of a teacher's car."

The young boy smirked a little. For some reason, he took joy in causing trouble, even if they were petty crimes.

Maria shook her head. "Padre Massi, I do not-a know what is-a wrong," she admitted. "My husband and-a I try so hard… nothing seems to work."

"Wouldn't we know it," Father Massi remarked. "Paddling the boy used to work, for the first-a month or so… but now it is-a not even worth the bother! I would-a swear, this-a child has a cast-iron tush!"

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"Well, the good Father was right about one thing- you do have a tight little tush…"

"What?"

"Ha ha ha… nothing. Sorry, couldn't resist- go ahead…"

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Mrs. Cornetto sighed heavily. "Padre Massi, per favore," she murmured, "tell me that-a there is something my husband and-a I can do."

After a moment of thought, Father Massi remembered something that could be useful. "Signora, you may be in-a luck," he responded, standing and pacing around a little. "I know of una scuola that-a takes only troubling students. It would-a be perfect for young Nasaccio."

Hopeful, Maria stood from her seat. "Per favore," she pleaded, "I need information of this-a scuola! Anything for mia Nasaccio!"

Father Massi sat back down and searched his desk for informative pamphlets. "I only recommend-a to problem students," he noted. "Is una scuola in Palermo, Sicily- is very strict, but with-a good results. Even a most bothersome child can-a be reformed within a semester."

To say the least, Maria and Father Massi were very pleased. Nasaccio, however, was worried- a school that could reform troublemakers like him? What did they do? What could he expect? Why did the school have to be in Sicily, of all places??

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"They made you change schools?"

"Had to- mia genitori, my 'parents', were disperato."

"Willing to try anything, huh?"

"Cie, even though it meant for us to move away…"

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About a week or so later, the Cornetto family had packed their things, ready for the journey to their new townhouse in Palermo. Young Nasaccio was reluctant, to say the least, but his parents and caretaker were not phased by his displeasure. After all, what choice did they have?

As the Cornettos boarded the ferry to Sicily, Nasaccio glanced once more at the suburban life of Rome. He had grown fond of the city- it meant something special to be there… not just the easy-to-pickpocket tourists, but the atmosphere itself.

Juan gestured Nasaccio aside, so another passenger could board the ferry, and led him to the railing. "Nasaccio," he addressed, "it is-a time we should talk."

Young Nasaccio said nothing. He crossed his arms and leaning gently over the railing, watching the seagulls soar low and flap their wings in vain attempts to get free food from the passengers.

Mr. Cornetto laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your madre and-a I, we only wish the best for you," he reminded him. "You cannot-a be so reckless- it will land you into trouble some-a-day. If-a this scuola is what is-a needed, then so it-a be." He paused, adding, "Your padre knows what-a he says."

Again, Nasaccio did not reply. He made an attempt to look nonchalant, even though he knew nothing ever got past his father. The fact was, he was too upset to talk.

Sighing, Juan gestured aside. "Perhaps you could-a talk with Anita," he said. "In-a the meantime, I talk with-a your madre."

Nasaccio stood silently, still watching the gulls as the older tabby approached him. She said nothing at first; she knew he was a trouble-maker, but she supposed he couldn't help it. Both she and the boy's father intently listened to him and knew the secrets of his heart, but his mother ultimately controlled his life. Juan was away every day working, and nowadays Anita was too caught up in her chores, leaving Maria to be his main source of influence.

Anita bent down and hugged Nasaccio. "Bambino," she cooed, "it will be fine. This is-a for the best. Your genitori- your mama and-a papa- they love you."

At last, Nasaccio succumbed to his need for comfort and hugged Anita. It was nice to know that even if he went to the strictest school in all of Italy, at least his loved ones still cared. Truth be told, though, he was still scared…

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"Sicily is a big crime place, isn't it?"

"Is rumored for Mafia activity, cie."

"And… there's a Catholic school there?"

"Quite a few, but this-a one was especially strict."

"Wow- nuns can be stricter than when armed with a paddle?"

"You have-a not an idea, Sabrina…"

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Another week or so passed, and Nasaccio was ready for his first day at his new school- Santo Benedetto's la Scuola di Parrocchia per la Gioventù Disturbata (or, roughly translated, Saint Benedict's Parish School for Troubled Youth). Knowing this did not console the young boy in the least.

Maria escorted her son to the main office. "Now, mio figlio, try to behave," she said. "Do not-a give your teachers any trouble, and-a be good to the other child-a-ren."

With a heaved sigh, Nasaccio nodded. "Cie, madre," he replied.

Once at the main office, Mrs. Cornetto and her son found a lion priest waiting at the door. "Buon giorno, Signora Cornetto," he greeted. "I am-a Padre Francis."

Smiling, Maria gently pushed her son ahead. "Go ahead, Nasaccio," she whispered.

Reluctantly, Nasaccio approached Father Francis. "Ciao, Padre," he mumbled, his face downcast.

A smirk crossed Father Francis' face as he rubbed his strong paw on the lad's feathery head. "He will-a be fine with-a us," he told Maria. "I can assure you- he is-a in good hands."

Comforted, Maria bent down and hugged her son. "Have a good day, bambino," she cooed, kissing him on his head.

Once Mrs. Cornetto had left, Father Francis gestured Nasaccio down the hallway, walking with him. "I have-a seen your record, little bambino," he informed. "I place such-a students in classes with-a Sorella Gabriella." He chuckled. "I have-a seen worse delinquenti than-a you tremble in fear of-a her shadow. If she cannot-a teach you to behave, no one-a can."

Nasaccio swallowed hard. Sister Gabriella sounded like one tough nun. He considered that, for a while, it would be best to stay out of her way... at least, until he could think of something...

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"So, tell me about Sister Gabriella."

"…"

"Well?"

"Is hard to say."

"Then just go on with the story."

"Cie, okay, I go on…"

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At last, Father Francis and Nasaccio arrived at the door of Sister Gabriella's classroom. He knocked gently and opened the door. "Buon giorno, Sorella Gabriella," he greeted as he and the boy stepped inside.

Curious, Nasaccio glanced around the room. He thought it was suspicious that the whole class was silent, and the children were seated quietly at their desks. Wasn't this supposed to be a class of juvenile delinquents? He saw the juveniles, but where was the delinquency??

A sharp cough alerted Nasaccio. He turned around, his gaze falling on Sister Gabriella. The nun was an older mouse, not too much older than Anita. She gave him a cold stare; she knew a trouble-maker when she saw one.

Father Francis nodded. "I leave you with-a Sorella Gabriella," he said. "Giorno buono!"

The door closed, and Nasaccio was left staring at Sister Gabriella. "Ciao?" he squeaked.

Sister Gabriella lifted a finger and pointed to a seat two rows back. "Be seated," she hissed, standing to address the class as Nasaccio took his seat. "Classe, meet our-a new student- Nasaccio Mafiosa Cornetto. Like many of you, he is-a known as un istigatore." She stared at the boy for a moment. "I would-a hope to change that-a soon enough."

Young Nasaccio blinked. He had only known Sister Gabriella for one minute, but already he knew he didn't like her…

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"So, we're talking a super-strict, evil-eye glaring, butt-paddling nun?"

"Oh, worse. Sorella Gabriella was-a pure evil."

"Wow… and you don't regret saying that about a nun?"

"Is more about her I have-a yet to tell…"

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As class continued, Nasaccio found himself drifting. He couldn't concentrate on the lesson, and quickly became bored.

The boy leaned over to the next desk, where a little hamster girl was busily taking notes. "Ai," he whispered, "you have a pencil?"

Startled, the girl ignored Nasaccio and continued taking notes.

Again, Nasaccio tried spoke to the girl. "Per favore, I need a pencil," he asked.

"Ahem!"

Quickly, Nasaccio turned his attention to the front of the room; Sister Gabriella gently tapped the slim rod in her hand. "Nadia, were you talking with Nasaccio?" she questioned.

Nadia shook her head violently. She didn't wanna get in trouble!

The nun glared at the young boy. "Nasaccio," she growled, "were you talking in-a class?"

Nasaccio looked around the room. All of the students were trembling in their seats. This made him all the more wary.

Finally, Nasaccio glanced back at Sister Gabriella. "No, no," he lied.

Of course, the nun didn't believe him for a second. She sneered, returning to the lesson.

Sighing in relief, Nasaccio leaned over to the next desk. "Close, huh?" he joked quietly.

The other boy, a Doberman pup, shushed Nasaccio. "You want-a you should get caught?" he hissed.

Before Nasaccio could ask for a clearer answer, Sister Gabriella cleared her throat again. "Tulio!" she yelled. "Are you talking in class?"

Fearful, Tulio slumped into his seat. "No, no, no!" he cried. "Is Nasaccio!"

Young Nasaccio and Sister Gabriella stared at each other. They both knew he was in trouble.

Sister Gabriella stormed over to Nasaccio's desk and ripped the child from his seat. "Come with-a me, Nasaccio," she spat, dragging the boy to a stool in the corner.

For a brief moment, Nasaccio was relieved. He assumed he was getting a paddling, and he was prepared for it; after all, he had the cast-iron tush!

Sure enough, Sister Gabriella sat down on the stool and held Nasaccio over her knee. He snickered under his breath as she pulled down his trousers. Boy, was she in for a surprise!

It was then that a sharp pain struck the boy's backside. Whatever that nun was using, it sure wasn't an ordinary paddle- it hurt 10 times worse!

A few minutes later, Sister Gabriella let Nasaccio scuttle back to his seat. The boy rubbed his sore bottom, in a vain attempt to soothe the pain.

A grim smirk crossed Sister Gabriella's face. She held her instrument of punishment before the class. "This is-a the reason," she told them, "that-a you show your respect."

The rest of the class nodded quickly. They couldn't agree more- even outside of class, Sister Gabrielle was a respected citizen of Palermo; perhaps she couldn't strike them outside the classroom, but one glare was enough to terrify the bravest delinquent.

After a moment of silence, Sister Gabriella laid the short whip on her desk. She went on with the lesson, believing she had ultimately done the boy some good…

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"She hit you with a whip?!"

"A crop- used in horse-training. Is short, but-a still stings."

"Okay, I know that can't be legal!"

"Is not, but never letted anybody know that…"

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Later that day, little Nasaccio sauntered outside and towards the driveway. His mother was picking him up from school, finally. At least he had someone he could talk to without fear of being paddled… or whipped.

As the boy opened the side-door of the fancy car and hopped in, his mother hugged him. She was happy to see her son make it through a full day of school without being sent home early. "Bambino!" she cried, kissing him. "How was your day?"

Nasaccio glanced at his mother. "Terribile," he answered. "I getted paddled four times this-a day! Four times!"

Maria, however, saw this as somewhat of an improvement. The school seemed to be handling his delinquency well enough, if the teachers could take care of him without sending him to the headmaster's office.

Just the same, Mrs. Cornetto understood that he had a rough day. "Il mio bambino," she cooed, hugging her son again. "Would-a you like a gelato? That would-a make you better, cie?"

With a heavy sigh, Nasaccio nodded. What could he do in a situation like this? His parents probably wouldn't believe him if he said his teacher- a nun- used a crop on her students, especially considering his current reputation. They'd simply think of him as the boy who cried wolf- tricking them to see how they'd react.

Still, the boy couldn't help feeling like he'd been cheated. Here he actually had a problem, and there was nothing he could do. As much as he liked gelato, no amount of tasty Italian ice cream could take away the sting of his sore little bottom…

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"Your parents didn't know?"

"Nah. How could-a I tell them this?"

" … Huh, good point."

"Cie, but it would-a be soon enough that I never should-a see Sorella Gabriella again."

"How? Did she retire or something?"

"No, no- remember, this is-a Sicily. Trouble lays around-a all corners…"

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A few more months passed. Nasaccio learned to cope with Sister Gabriella. He found ways to escape trouble from the other children, though he soon became the most disciplined child in the class. There were few days when he left school without a sore tush.

One cold damp April morning, Nasaccio and the other children realized that Sister Gabriella was late. This was a first- she was very punctual, and would chastise (and, on the occasional repeated offenses, whipped) tardy children.

At last, ten minutes after what should have been the beginning of class, Sister Gabriella arrived. Her clean white fur was fraying and messy, as were her robes. Needless to say, she wasn't in a very good mood.

All the children sat up straight in their seats as Sister Gabriella made her way to her desk. She was silent for a moment, trying to repress her outrage.

Nasaccio glanced at the nun's face. Somehow he knew this day would not end well…

Finally, Sister Gabriella turned to the class. "Bambini," she addressed the boys and girls, "you should-a know why I am-a here." She paused. "I teach you, but-a I have another purpose- to save-a your pathetic souls from-a the depths of Inferno."

The children suddenly became very nervous. Their teacher was giving them the damnation speech; that was never good.

Sister Gabriella went on. "You know-a what happens to naughty child-a-ren who do not-a confess," she continued. "They don't-a get to Cielo … and-a they are lucky to get-a to Purgatorio."

Young Nasaccio could have cared less about this speech, if she wasn't intentionally trying to scare them. She usually told them this once or twice a month, depending on the obedience (or lack thereof) of the class.

Of course, as much as she felt obligated to give that speech, Sister Gabriella had other intentions in mind this time. "I tell-a you this today because-a I lose something importante," she informed. "Il mio rosario antico - given to me by my dear nonna – has-a disappeared from-a my desk." She glared at the more troublesome students, including Nasaccio. "You should-a all know now that-a I kept il mio rosario locked in-a my desk drawer, taken only for-a use in-a the parish masses… and-a I know that-a the lock has-a been tampered with."

The young boy felt particularly vulnerable now. He didn't take the rosary, but it was quite possible he could get blamed for it.

Pausing, Sister Gabriella gestured to the children. "Stand and-a step away from-a your desks," she advised. "If-a none of you has-a taken it, then-a you won't mind if-a I should-a search your bookbags and-a desks."

Complying with the rest of the class, Nasaccio stood and walked away from his desk. For once he had no evidence to convict him of a crime; he even considered being a bystander more often.

One by one, each desk and bookbag had been systematically checked. So far, no sign of an antique rosary (though Sister Gabriella was able to confiscate a few comic books, toy soldiers, and teen magazines).

As the mouse nun began sorting through Nasaccio's bookbag, the boy smiled proudly. Here was his chance to one-up the Sister. Plus, if she did find the culprit, he could take pleasure in the poor child's being caught.

It was then that Sister Gabriella made a shocking discovery- she found her antique rosary among the boy's belongings. "Ah-ha!" she shouted, showing the evidence to the class. "Look what I have found- il mio rosario antico, in-a young Nasaccio's desk."

The whole class gasped in horror, gazing wide-eyed at Nasaccio. They couldn't believe he could commit a crime so daring. No one was brave enough to steal from Sister Gabriella, let alone steal a valuable of hers.

As shocked as they were, Nasaccio was in total disbelief. For once in his life he was innocent, and the jerk who was guilty pinned the blame on him!

The nun grabbed Nasaccio's hand. "Is-a severe discipline for-a you!" she snapped, squeezing his wrist as she pulled him towards the corner stool.

Slowly, the rest of the class returned to their seats. They turned their faces downcast and covered their ears, so they would not have to witness Nasaccio's punishment. The poor boy howled in pain; he tried in vain to squirm away, which only resulted in the Sister holding him closer and whipping him harder.

Then, without warning, the young crow let out a horrifying scream. This was no ordinary cry of pain; he was hurt, badly.

Sister Gabriella stopped for a moment, and dropped her crop. Nasaccio was bleeding- a long scar ran from the midsection of the boy's back down to his bruised little tush.

Quickly, the nun sat the boy upright on the stool, fixing his clothes. She whispered something in his ear, and sent him off to the nurse's office. Without a word- just a whimper and a stray tear- he nodded and left the classroom.

After a moment of silence, Sister Gabriella picked up the whip and slipped it under her desk. She continued with the lesson plan as usual; despite her calm and collected exterior, she was becoming nervous and wary…

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"What'd you tell the nurse?"

"What could-a I say? I lied. I forgetted what I said, though."

"Please tell me your parents weren't as dense as they were before."

"Sabrina… mia genitori, they never were dense. I would-a just never say a thing."

"So, you told them that Sister Gabriella whipped you?"

"No, I not tell them… they discover alone…"

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Nasaccio did not say a word during the ride home. His mother was very concerned; she asked the nurse what had happened, but all she could say was that the boy had an accident. He hadn't told her anything else.

As the car pulled up to the driveway, Maria watched as Nasaccio slide out and hobbled up the steps to the front door. He wasn't limping noticeably, but she could tell he was hurting just the same. Oh, how she wished her son would tell her what happened- she even bribed the boy with Anita's wonderful homemade gelato, and still he wouldn't say.

Mrs. Cornetto stepped inside and gently pushed her boy along. "Nasaccio, go see Anita about-a your wound," she murmured, "then I want-a you to lie down and-a rest awhile."

Nodding slowly, Nasaccio sauntered upstairs. At the top of the stairway, he stopped to rub his back and bottom. The burning from the open wound still bothered him; he hoped his parents would not raise further questions, though he knew how impossible that was.

Once Nasaccio reached his bedroom, he approached the bed and fell backwards onto the sheets. To simply say that he had a bad day would have been quite the understatement.

After a while, Anita entered the boy's bedroom and found him lying down. "Bambino!" she cried, running over to him. "I hear that-a you come home-a today hurt. How bad-a you think it is?"

The boy just groaned and turned over. Perhaps his mother was right- a good all-day nap felt good right about now.

Of course, Anita wanted to check the wound first. "Come, bambino," she said, lifting the boy from his bed and leading him into the bathroom. "Now, let-a me check those-a wounds you have."

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"You? Depressed? It's hard to believe."

"Ha ha. You make joke, cie?"

"Hey, I've seen you frustrated, upset, and even angry… but depressed?"

"Is habit to keep-a emotions, how-a you say, 'bottled up'."

"Huh… makes sense, I guess."

"Anyway, to continue…"

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Mr. Cornetto arrived home a few hours later. He heard that his son had been sent home early due to an accident, and as soon as he finished with his important clients he rushed home. Sure, the boy came home with scrapes before, but he only came home early with injuries if they were serious- he recalled when his son was 6 years old, and a bad fall from the playground equipment broke his arm.

Leaving his work in the passenger car-seat, Juan hurried inside. "Where-a is Nasaccio?" he said as he pulled off his jacket and threw it on the floor.

Upon hearing her husband, Maria stood and rushed over to him. "The boy is upstairs," she informed him. "Anita treated his wounds, and now he is resting."

Upset, Juan turned to Maria. "What happened?" he queried.

With a heavy sigh, Maria shook her head. "He would-a not say," she replied. "He has-a not spoken a word since-a we left."

At that moment, Anita trotted downstairs with a load of laundry. She always tried to stay out of family disputes- she never could stand an argument- and if Juan saw her, he would question her (as he did Maria, and everyone in-contact with the boy; after all, he was a lawyer).

As Anita slinked out of the room, Juan happened to notice her out of the corner of his eye. "Anita," he addressed in a slight sing-song voice.

Slowly, Anita turned around and faced Mr. Cornetto. "Cie?" she squeaked.

Juan approached Anita with a curious look in his eye. "What-a of Nasaccio?" he inquired. "Maria says you treated his-a wounds. How's it look?"

Anita paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Is a long scar, from his back to his bottom," she answered. "Is thin- very fine- and-a is bruising around the area."

Concerned, Juan brushed past Anita and headed upstairs. He had to have a talk with Nasaccio.

Once Juan came to the boy's bedroom, he forced the door open and walked over to the bed. "Nasaccio, wake up," he snapped. "We should-a talk."

The boy responded with a low groan, pulling the covers closer. He had been asleep for an hour or so, and being awakened like that wasn't quite what he had in mind.

Pulling the covers off, Juan sat Nasaccio upright and looked him in the eye. "Nasaccio, let-a me see your scar," he pressed. "Is importante that-a I see it."

Nasaccio shook his head. Needless to say, he felt uncomfortable talking about it. Not to mention, he was too tired to care about much of anything.

Again, Juan stared at his son. "Take off-a your shirt," he said, rather bluntly.

This time, Nasaccio complied with his father. He took off his shirt, allowing Juan to examine the scar in detail. Being half-asleep, he could care less, as long as there were no questions involved.

To say the least, Mr. Cornetto was perplexed. He rarely ever saw a wound like that, and he's seen worse cases. There were a few cases, deep in his case history, with similar wounds; the usual cause came from whips…

Alarmed, Juan ran downstairs, leaving Nasaccio alone on the bed. He had to talk to Father Francis and alert the police.

Now more awake, Nasaccio wandered downstairs. He found his parents and Anita seated in the parlor; Juan was angrily yelling at someone over the phone, and Maria was being comforted by the housemaid.

Curious, the boy approached his family. "Mama, Papa," he mumbled.

Maria was able to smile a little. "Come, bambino," she whispered, holding back a few tears.

Though still unsure of the whole matter, Nasaccio humored his mother just the same. He sat down next to Maria, and both she and Anita quietly soothed him. They could only imagine what he had been through.

Comforted, Nasaccio looked around. His father was still arguing with whoever was on the other line (probably Father Francis), and yet it showed how much he cared about his son. Times like this made the boy consider if he was really grateful for the life he had, or if he had been taking it for granted…

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"So, did Sister Gabriella end up behind bars?"

"No exactly- she disappeared after class that-a day."

"Oh, snap. Did Father Francis make any compensation?"

"He allowed transfers of all-a students in Sorella Gabriella's class."

"What? That's it? No lawsuits?"

"Oh, many lawsuits… but, as good Catholic, il mio padre understood."

"What did he understand? What was there to understand?"

"Padre Francis make-a mistake- we all do. Aside, mio genitori already have enough."

"Still… it doesn't sound complete, you know?"

"No has to. I learn that-a life is that-a way sometime."

"Hm… tell me a little more about the whole school situation. What happened?"

"I suppose I could-a spare a some more detailings…"

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Another month or so passed, and the Cornetto family was on the move once again. Father Francis was so grateful that Juan did not bring up charges that he recommended the best Catholic school in all of Italy… and, paid for the boy's tuition.

In the following years, the Cornetto would travel all over Italy- sometimes for new schools, sometimes for better job opportunities, and occasionally for a nice change of atmosphere. As a result, Nasaccio wasn't able to have any long-term friendships.

Still, their traveling did keep the boy occupied. He wasn't as focused on being destructive as he was being merely mischievous. Not to mention, had they not moved to Florence when the "boy" turned 21, his life might have turned out a little differently…

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"Wait a second… what were you doing, living with your parents at 21?"

"…"

"I'm just saying!"

"Is not my fault. I would-a have wanted to, but-a il mio madre…"

"Oh… was she over-protective of you?"

"Always."

"Wow… she sure wasn't like my mom…"

"Eh?"

"Nothing… so, what happened in Florence?"

"… You sure you want-a to be hearing this?"

"Hey, I've come this far. I wanna hear the rest."

"… Cie, cie, I go on…"

(Okay, folks, the next chapter will be a bit more light-hearted, and you can expect it within the next week or so. I'll work as fast as I can, between homework and reports… later!)