Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Isabella.
That was her name. I knew because my sister had come home talking about her a few days ago. She was new in school—new to Italy—and apparently the coolest girl ever. Luciana gushed about how her new friend made jewelry out of flowers—bracelets braided from grass, daisy-chain hair crowns, and pressed flowers encased in clear resin on chains made from cord.
Isabella took a step to the right as she added more pebbles, and her face disappeared behind the bench. I leaned down, pretending to tie my shoelaces, to get a better look. Who even thinks of doing stuff like that? Flower jewelry I could understand. Though I didn’t know any other girls in their first year of high school who had that kind of hobby. But balancing pebbles on a string like they were little acrobats? That was…different.
Isabella stepped back again, smiled at her line of stones, and then turned and looked straight at me. Long, blond hair framed her pretty face.
“Do you want to help, or are you just going to stare at me all day?”
We’d been learning English since starting school, but I didn’t understand everything she said.
Seeing the confused look on my face, she tried again. “Aiuto?” she said. Help?
I pointed to myself, silently asking, Me?
She rolled her eyes. “Si. Aiuto…or stop looking.”
I glanced at the field and the guys I’d been sitting with. Coach Marconi blew his whistle and gestured for my group. The sun really must’ve gotten to me because I was momentarily torn between blowing off tryouts and playing with rocks with this girl. Everyone started to run down the bleachers. I had to go or I wasn’t going to make the team.
“Tra pochi minuti,” I yelled. In a few minutes.
She shrugged and went back to her pebbles. I ran to the field, but my mind kept wandering to the bleachers. The minute tryouts ended, I sprinted back, but Isabella was gone. The only sign she’d been there was a perfect, full line of pebbles balanced on a string.
***
A week later, I came home from football practice, still dripping sweat and smelling like I’d forgotten to put on deodorant that morning, even though I had. I froze as I came up the driveway. There she was again—Isabella—sitting cross-legged on the front lawn next to my mother’s flower garden, across from my sister. The two of them were braiding something, and there was a pile of daisies between them.
I tried to play it cool and lifted my chin. “Ciao.”
Isabella smiled, and I tripped over my own two feet, landing flat on my ass.
My sister cracked up and looked at her friend. “How do you say in Inglese? Smooth?”
Isabella leaned over. “Are you okay?”
I dusted myself off and tried to save face. “Leg cramps. From practicing hard today.”
Luciana rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s the king of football because he’s da captain.”
My sister thought she was insulting me, but I stood a little taller. “Yeah. I am da captain.”
Isabella smiled again, and that weird ache in my stomach flared up. At least today I was actually hungry. I walked over for a better look at what the two of them were doing. “What you…cooking?”
“I think you mean making.”
I’d spent the last week watching English TV shows and memorizing common phrases, but apparently, I hadn’t mastered the language yet. “Si. Making.”
She held up a thick green braid made from grape tendrils—the spirally part of the vine that grasps onto other things for support. “Bracelets.”
I nodded. “Cool.”
I’d never had any trouble talking to girls before, but being near Isabella made me feel gangly and awkward.
“You want to make one?” she asked.
I wasn’t really interested in jewelry, but I would’ve made one just to sit close to her. Though I was pretty smelly. So I shrugged, trying not to show how excited I was at the prospect of spending time with her. “Maybe later.”
As soon as I got inside, I bolted up the stairs and jumped into the shower. After, I even squirted on some of my dad’s cologne.
My bedroom was at the front of the house, so as I got dressed, I peeked out the window to see if they were still working on bracelets. The two of them were in the same spots, and Isabella was laughing. I watched quietly, mesmerized by the sound. It was loud and messy, nothing forced or fake about it, and she didn’t cover her mouth like other girls did. I got the feeling she didn’t care who heard her.
Lost in that thought, I didn’t notice at first that Isabella had looked up. She’d caught me staring, same as the other day at the football field. This time, though, she didn’t call me out. Instead, she gave me a slow, subtle smile that felt like it was just for me. My stomach did another flip.