Thank you to the guest review! I love reading what you guys have to say, and it definitely gets me motivated! Thanks for the support. It's a bit of a short chapter, so sorry about that. Please read on, and as always, R&R. –Fighterr
Within moments, we were all squished around a round, wooden dinner table. I was elbowed between the boy named Racetrack and Sal. I tried my best to look nonchalant and manly, but I'm pretty sure I was failing miserably. So I did what anyone would do- stay as silent as possible and pray they couldn't smell fear.
"So Enzo," began Mrs. Verduci. "Salvatore and Francesca told us this morning that you are from Sicily."
I nodded my response, and was grateful we were speaking in Italian.
"We are from Calabria," Mrs. Verduci went on. "So we're close to Sicily. Have you been to Calabria?"
"When I was little, yes Signora." I said, my voice deep. "My parents took me before they died."
The table went quiet, and it became awkward. I hadn't mentioned it as Enzo's story, but it was my own story. Those weekends on the seaside when I was little were beautiful memories for me. I hadn't even meant for them to slip out.
"I'm very sorry to hear of your parents," Mrs. Verduci said. I waved her away.
"I am very lucky to have Francesca and Sal looking out for me. That's the beautiful thing about Italian families, we're big like an army, but always looking out for each other," I responded, my voice still deep. I was getting more comfortable being Enzo. Maybe if I could stop freaking blushing every time Bumlets looked at me.
Mr. and Mrs Verduci nodded in robust agreement. Francesca looked at me with love and pride, and Sal slapped me on the back again.
"You seem to have your heart in the right place," Mr. Verduci began. I realized what this meant- my sob/success story had convinced him of my anti-mafia motives. Interesting. "So, Domenico, you guys will show Enzo here the ropes tomorrow, si?"
"Yes, Papa," Domenico responded in Italian. He turned to me. "We will leave around 4 in the morning, and we'll walk to Manhattan. We'll give you some pointers on the way, and then we'll start selling right away. During the break between the morning and afternoon edition, we can get you set up in the lodging house with us."
"Thank you," I responded, my eyes on the table before me. "I appreciate your help."
"Anytime," He responded warmly. I was blushing, I was sure of it. I hadn't been in this close proximity to guys since Mack. It was nerve racking.
"Yeah, you'se gets to meet all the guys," Racetrack broke in with English. "You'll like em. Nice quality people, not like dose crooked Sicilian rats, huh?"
"Antonio!" His mother reprimanded. He shrugged.
"You know what I'se mean. Not all Sicilians are like dat, just some of em."
"No offense taken," I replied in English.
The dinner continued quietly, it mainly consisted of the adults reminiscing about the old country. For the most part, none of the things they were talking about had changed over the past 100 years. It was one of the beautiful, cultural things about Italy. The tradition of it all never really changed.
We left around 9 in the evening back to our apartment. We spent the next hour getting me ready to go in the morning. I was surprisingly sad to leave them- I had grown attached to them already. It was for the best, though- I tried to convince myself. We settled in to sleep that evening, and I was ready to sleep fitfully, if at all.
After a rough night, Salvatore awoke me at 4. He put a finger to his mouth, and knelt down beside my bed. He handed me a knife in a holder I could wrap around my leg, discreetly.
"You are like my daughter now, Elena," He whispered. "I'm giving you this- don't tell anyone, not even Francesca, that you have it. New York is dangerous, principessa. If anyone finds out you're a woman, there will be danger for you. Keep this on you at all times, just in case. I don't want you hurt. You're one of us now."
I hugged him violently, my eyes watering. No one had ever cared about me like this with the exception of my parents. Even though I was terrified to live in a lodging house with boys, the gift made me feel safer. When I got up to move, Sal held my shoulder.
"One more thing," He said, reaching for around his neck. He retrieved a gold chain with a small saint on it. "San Francesco."
"Sal," I began, eyes watering again. "That's my patron saint. But, please don't give this to me, this is your-"
"Elena, my parents gave this to me when I moved to America alone, too. It's good luck, take it."
"Thank you," I breathed, hooking it around my neck.
I got dressed with the help of Sal, and before I knew it, I looked like a total boy. I opened the door of the apartment just in time for Racetrack and Bumlets to exit theirs.
"Buongiorno, Enzo," Bumlets proclaimed, greeting me.
"Youse look like shit, Enzo," Racetrack said, eyeing me.
"Good morning, Racetrack," I said sarcastically in English. Bumlets smirked and Racetrack glared at me sleepily.
Bumlets and I talked cheerily on the way there, or as cheerily as I could act considering I felt like throwing up. Racetrack was moody, and kept a cigar in his mouth the whole way. When we neared the place where we were apparently going to buy papers, Racetrack's mood increased significantly. He was practically skipping when we got to the line.
The line. Of boys. The line of boys. The line of boys who were all incredibly attractive, muscular, and dirty. I halted without even knowing it. Bumlets smiled encouragingly at me, and pushed me forward with him. I was pushed forward by an attractive male, into a line of attractive males, while they thought I was an attractive male. I almost giggled madly, but held it together. I was Enzo now, I was cool and Italian and very manly. Enzo didn't giggle.
But I couldn't help but think to myself, If only Mack could see me now.