Italian Summer

Chapter One

ON THE MORNING OF JUNE 7th, I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of my sisters car, unsure where we were headed and unfamiliar with where we had been. My head bobbed back and forth to the upbeat song playing on the radio despite the fact that I couldn't understand a word of it- if anything, it was to distract myself from the growing ache in my bladder. In my short two weeks in the country, I had realized that Italy didn't have all of the amenities that the United States did, and one of those included rest-stops every five miles.
We had been on the road for a better part of an hour, my sister's eyes fixed on the road in front of her. Her boyfriend, Francesco, was sprawled out in the backseat, playing on his phone. He looked completely relaxed, and I wished I could be too. But the fact that I didn't know where we were going made my anxiety go sky-high, and I silently prayed that we'd arrive at our destination soon.
"Are we there yet?" I asked, knowing good and well we weren't. Ahead of us, it was just miles and miles of sprawling land, dotted by very few houses. Italy's landscape was beautiful, of course, but when you were on the verge of peeing your pants and there was no restroom in sight, the rolling hills and vineyards were nothing but discouraging.
My sister, Isabella, simply shook her head and laughed. "Oh, mia sonella, what am I gonna do with you?"     she asked. "We'll be there in," she glanced at her watch, "about 15 minutes."
May as well be 15 hours, I thought, sighing.
Isabella and I were not only sisters- we were twins. Unfortunately, we were fraternal, meaning I didn't host the same flawless features that she did. We had the same dark blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. She thrived in a city roaring with life; I hid out in my room trying to get away from it all. She was always perfectly put together; I always looked like I had just rolled out of bed. Her room was spotless; mine was, well, not.
Despite our many differences, we had been best friends for as long as I could remember, but I often found myself wishing my life was as seemingly perfect as hers was. Because of past examples, it was no surprise when last year, I was the one who stayed home and spent the year doing nothing while she flew out to Italy for college. I was 20 freaking years old, and I had no life plan what so ever.
Right after Isabella had left for college last August, she had promised me she'd invite me to spend the summer with her, and she had. So far, I loved Italy, but I was quickly realizing that Isabella had her own life now- one that I wasn't a star of. When I arrived, I was surprised to see that she had a boyfriend- she had never mentioned him when she called and texted. That was just one of the many ways she had changed.
"Where are we?" I asked, not recognizing any of the names on the road signs we passed.
"We're on the edge of Verona," my sister answered, still not taking her eyes off the road. For it being a rural area, there were quite a few other cars.
"And where are we headed?" I asked. I had been asking all afternoon, but neither Isabella or Francesco would tell me. This was my final attempt at getting an answer.
"I don't know, Francesco," my sister said, glancing at her boyfriend in the mirror. "Should we tell her now, or just let her see when we get there?"
"It's up to you, mi amore," he replied, not looking up from his phone.
Isabella sighed. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you," she said, a smile growing on her face. "We're going to his brother's gig tonight."
My stomach did a flip. "It's not Pietro or whatever his name is, is it?" I asked. Ever since I had arrived in Italy, Francesco had been talking up his younger brother, and Isabella had been relentless. "You'd be so cute together" she had said.
"It's Piero," she corrected, "and I can't deny nor confirm that."
She didn't have to- I already knew. "If you guys are still trying to set me up with him, you can give it up. I'm not looking for a relationship right now," I lied. Really, that statement couldn't have been farther from the truth.
I had had a couple of boyfriends throughout school, but none of them were serious. In middle school, I "dated" a boy for 5 whole days, though our relationship was nothing but holding hands while we walked around the playground. Back then, I had to run and wash my hands after every recess, still believing boys had cooties. I dated another guy in junior high, but really, I only did it to make my crush jealous. It didn't work. And then, of course, there was the man I went to prom with, whom I dated for a whole four months. He cheated on me and broke my heart, and since then, I hadn't so much as gotten a guys number.
"Oh come on," my sister teased. "Don't you want to go back to Oregon and brag about your Italiano boyfriend?"
"No, actually, I don't," I replied, staring out my window.
It wasn't long before the houses and stores lining the road become more prevalent, and soon, we were driving through the bustling city of Verona. It was beautiful, and I could see why the famous writer had chosen it as the setting for Romeo & Juliet- it looked like it was straight from a fairytale.
The further we drove into the city, the worse the traffic got, and soon, we were stuck in a long line of cars all headed in the same direction. Taking advantage of our slow pace, I pulled out my phone and started snapping pictures of the beautiful buildings around us.
45 minutes later, we pulled into a medium-sized parking lot that was already nearly full- if we had been two minutes later, we wouldn't have gotten a spot. My sisters parked the car, and as I got out, she informed me that we'd have to walk several blocks, and soon, we joined the herd of people on the sidewalk and started walking towards the Verona Arena.
      It was a long walk, but when we arrived at the venue, I realized that even just catching a glimpse of the ancient arena would have made the 8-block walk worth it. It was gorgeous, the stone arches and crumbling bricks showing its age. A plaque on the side of it said that it was nearly 2,000 years old, which I found remarkable.
      People lined up at the ticket booths, but Francesco told me that we already had tickets, and when we passed under the archway, and older man took our tickets and gave the three of us gold wristbands. In a slur of Italian, he vaguely directed us to our seats, and while Francesco nodded along to the man's instructions, I didn't understand a single word.
     I followed Francesco, walking alongside Isabella as we walked down the hallway. After a moment, we stepped out into the auditorium, and when Francesco kept walking towards instead of turning and going up the stairs, I realized we must have floor seats. At one point, a security guard checked our wristbands, and after nodding with approval, he let us pass. Francesco stopped at the third row from the front, and when I turned and looked at the nearly-full auditorium, I couldn't help but wonder how much my sister and her boyfriend had paid for these seats.
      "So, I take it Piero's the opening band?" I said, knowing good and well that 15,000 people wouldn't show up for some low-budget gig. But even so, if Piero was opening for a singer with that much of a following, then I wouldn't exactly call him unsuccessful.
      Isabella glanced at her boyfriend, and all they did was look at arch other and smile. Francesco kissed Isabella on the head, and when she leaned back towards me, her smile hadn't faded. "Something like that," she said.
      "So who's the main singer?" I asked.
      "It's a band, and they're called Il Volo," my sister answered.
      I had just pulled out my phone to look them up when the lights fell, and with it came a huge chorus of screams. For a moment, the only sound was soft music played by the orchestra, the stage flooded with white light. The crowds screams didn't fade, and when a sudden burst of music erupted and the lights began flashing, I found myself screaming along with them. Pictures of three men flashed on the screen behind the stage, and when the guys stepped out on the stage and the shortest of the three started singing, I instantly knew that this would be an amazing show. It wasn't until the 3rd song that I had a realization.
      There hadn't been an opening band.

Hello lovelies! First of all, thank you so much for clicking on my story. This is the first fan fiction I've written in awhile, but after falling in love with Il Volo a couple months ago, I decided to try it again. This is just the first chapter, and I assure you that this book will get better later on. Please feel free to suggest changes in the comments, and if you enjoyed the first chapter, please leave a vote!