Delanna woke to the sound of people. Setting up stalls and chatting in their Italian way. Market Day. Market Day is the best day for her. She can sneak as much food as she can carry and not get noticed. Delanna pulls on her coat, her favourite one with many pockets, and sneakers and heads out her bedroom door.
Delanna's father, Alberico, sits at the dining table. Cup of espresso in one hand, the la Republica in the other.
¨Where are you going Lanna?¨ He asks her.
¨Out to Maria's for a while.¨ Delanna replies. Maria is not her friend, but dad doesn't know that.
¨Alright then. Tell her I said hello.¨
¨I will.¨ She says a little too cheerfully, then whips out the door.
People line the streets, eyeing up all the cheeses, loaves of bread, and Italian homewares. Delanna pulls up her hood and joins the wave of locals and tourists. A whole table of jams and relishes stand before her eyes. She ducks behind a tourist taking photos and sneaks a jar of raspberry and black pepper jam. She looks up to check if anyone is watching, then casually walks over toward the pastry stall.
Delanna grabs herself a piece of Pizza Bianca from the small basket. Then again, she checks for anyone watching, and locks eyes with the stall owner.
¨Put that back girlie.¨ He tells her, in an angry tone. His grey bushy eyebrows narrow.
She turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. ¨STOP! THEIF!¨ He yells. Delanna sprints toward her flat, her hair flying in front of her face. The two lazy security guards jump to their feet and start racing after Delanna down the Italian streets. She is far faster than them. 15 versus 40 something. She looks behind her to see them still running, but drenched with sweat. They need to work out. Delanna thinks.
Delanna reaches her front door, racing in and locking it behind her. After a few moments, the guards knock on her door. Yelling at her to come out, the frustrated men slam on the Italian oak front door. Delanna races up to her room to peer down at the guards' sweaty, angry faces. She giggles to herself and sets back down toward the kitchen to put her stolen goods in the pantry.
¨Papa! I got some food for lunch!¨ She calls up the stairs
No reply.
Delanna yells for her father again.
¨Papa?¨
Again. Silence.
She approaches her father's office with caution. She stops at the door and listens for some sort of indication that he might be in there. Nothing.
Slowly and unsurely, Delanna enters the room. And she gasps.
Her father lies face first, on the floor. One hand, gripping his chest, and the other, holding a small piece of parchment. Delanna's knees give way, as she falls to cry at her father's side.
YOU ARE READING
Delanna
Teen Fiction¨I believed that she loved me, until she ran.¨ 15-year-old Delanna Hays lived with her parents in a small flat in downtown Rome. That is until her mother left. With her mother gone, Delanna takes it upon herself to feed herself and her father...
