Elisa

12

Everyone leaves my room, all the boys--except for Romeo. When Remi asks him what he's doing he tells him that he has to talk to me about something. His words leave butterflies in my stomach.

I play it off. "So what's the important stuff you have to tell me?"

He sits back down on my bed. "I just wanted to, uh, thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything you did." He's awkward, and it's a mannerism I haven't seen on him before. "When I found out about...my dad."

I clear my throat and it's so loud that I want to die. "Uh, yeah. Of course."

We stare at each other without saying anything and it's probably the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced in my life.

"Oh!" I say, remembering the drawing I wanted to give him. Somehow this worked out perfectly. It's rare to get alone time with Romeo. "I made something for you."

I grab the small canvas out of my closet and hand it to him. He stares at it for awhile. He bites his lip, and it's evident that he's trying not to cry. Holy shit. I'm an idiot. I voice those words aloud.

He looks at me and smiles. "You're not an idiot. It's just..I love it."

"I'm glad you like it. I just figured since you're going through so much, I would make you and your family something." I pull the hair tie out of my bun, just to find something to do with my hands. I twist and untwist and twist a strand of hair awkwardly. I'm not sure how to talk to this version of Romeo. He's not sarcastic or mean or picking on me. He's...kind. I'm being kind back.

"Well, I better go downstairs and hang out with Remi before he throws a fit." He stands and I laugh. He stares at me for a second, and I tilt my head sideways questioningly.

"Your welcome!" I say sarcastically.

"Thank you." He smiles.

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"Hi Elisa!" Aunt Dulce greets me with a lipstick-filled kiss on the cheek.

"Ma, can you stop? You got lipstick on." Fi yells from their family room. 

Dulce (n) - a sweet food or drink. I would say that Aunt Dulce is sweet--sometimes. She's one of those women who wears an excessive amount of makeup and dresses in flashy colors. Aunt Dulce has one of the biggest mouths in all of Northeast Philly. Everyone knows that if you don't want anyone to know something, you don't tell Dulce Paccaroni. Despite being a huge gossip and having a very big personality, she is a good mom to her daughters. That woman would fight someone if anyone said something negative about her family.

She reminds me of those candies called Lemonheads. When you first put it in your mouth it's sour and tart, but when you give it some time it becomes really sweet. 

"I want to kiss my beautiful golden-haired niece." Aunt Dulce snaps at Fi with a hand on her hip. Another thing that Aunt Dulce does: she loves to point out that I look nothing like an Italian. I have olive skin, okay? I can't help that I came out of my mother's uterus with blonde hair and blue eyes. There are plenty of people back in Italy who aren't the typically dark-featured Italians.

I ignore it. "Where's Marti?" 

"Martina," She corrects. "What is with you people and shortening my beautiful daughters' names?" 

"Where is Martina?" I ask again, this time with a smirk. 

"She's working." Fi makes her way to kitchen. She shoves a handful of popcorn in her mouth. "Mom no one wants to say Fiorenza all the time."