“Go!” he said.
My hunger disappeared the moment my body did. That was a relief anyway. The three of us eased through the screechy metal doors, and then Sir Walter must’ve decided passing through all that metal and all those angry Italians was too much, ‘cause he angled us towards a strip of dirt planted with trees every ten or so feet. That felt a lot better. For Sam’s sake, I tried to pay attention to what the trees tasted or smelled like, but honestly, I wasn’t picking up on anything much.
Eventually, we made our way back to the alley where our apartment sat. As soon as we solidified, Sir Walter excused himself.
“I believe there is a vendor selling pizza around the corner,” he said.
Pizza sounded good. Bed sounded good. Never, ever driving in Rome again sounded good.
We ate and crawled off to bed.
Any hopes I had for sleeping in late were dashed way too early the next morning. Mickie and Sir Walter were talking in very excited voices that I couldn’t sleep through. I stumbled into the kitchen.
“The sun’s not up,” I complained, grabbing a roll off the table.
Mickie looked at me, her face wrinkled with worry as bad as I’d ever seen it.
“What?” I asked.
She looked ready to burst into tears.
Sir Walter indicated the computer. I looked and saw an news article about last night’s car pile–up. With a photo showing about a mile of cars, although only those in front were really visible.
And then I saw what had my sister so upset.
Me. Sticking my head out the window, which I’d done for, like, all of two seconds. In front of me, looking ridiculous in a Nintendo stretch–cap, sat Sir Walter.
Thanks to some stupid cell phone camera, we were officially headline news.
Chapter Fifteen
----
AROUND ALL THE TIME
· SAM ·
“Hey, Christian,” said Gwyn. She sidled herself next to him in the one–person passenger seat of my Blazer.
“Really, Gwyn?” I muttered, pulling the car into reverse.
She’d called, insisting it looked like rain and would I please swing by the bakery to pick her up. The bakery was directly across from the school parking lot.
“Over there,” she said, pointing to the far side of the lot. “I saw a good parking space.”
What she saw was an opportunity to hang out thigh to thigh with Christian. She flung an arm around his neck as I revved over a speed–bump.
“Hey, careful, Sam! Not all of us are seat–belted in here!” She smiled at Christian and murmured, “Sorry,” indicating the drape of her arm along his shoulders.
She was patently not sorry.
“Oh, darn,” she said as another car took the spot. “Guess we’ll have to circle around again. I didn’t see David Lopez aiming for that parking spot.”
I’d bet crazy kinds of money she did see him. I was familiar with the species Gwynicus Prowlicus and its devious ways.
Later, over lunch, Gwyn timed her seat–grabbing perfectly. That is, she waited until she could tell which seat Christian meant to take and then angled herself in so that he spent a brief moment upon her lap.
As he stood and apologized, she blinked at him innocently, something she’d perfected through years of hiding bad behavior from her mom.
Christian flushed while speaking to Gwyn. “Allow me to point out that this might be avoided, had you allowed me to remain standing until you had chosen your seat.”
Gwyn had told Christian he should quit doing things like remaining standing until the girls were seated. Or rising from the table if a girl got up to buy another soda. As far as I could tell, Gwyn’s ideas of Christian’s habits came from watching Jane Austen movies with her mom rather than from actual knowledge of seventeenth century court life in France. But Christian was too polite to say anything to embarrass her. Or maybe he found it all amusing. Or maybe he wasn’t listening. His vigilance on my behalf had definitely scaled way up since my kidnapping.
I found myself keeping my eyes open as well. I scanned faces
My hunger disappeared the moment my body did. That was a relief anyway. The three of us eased through the screechy metal doors, and then Sir Walter must’ve decided passing through all that metal and all those angry Italians was too much, ‘cause he angled us towards a strip of dirt planted with trees every ten or so feet. That felt a lot better. For Sam’s sake, I tried to pay attention to what the trees tasted or smelled like, but honestly, I wasn’t picking up on anything much.
Eventually, we made our way back to the alley where our apartment sat. As soon as we solidified, Sir Walter excused himself.
“I believe there is a vendor selling pizza around the corner,” he said.
Pizza sounded good. Bed sounded good. Never, ever driving in Rome again sounded good.
We ate and crawled off to bed.
Any hopes I had for sleeping in late were dashed way too early the next morning. Mickie and Sir Walter were talking in very excited voices that I couldn’t sleep through. I stumbled into the kitchen.
“The sun’s not up,” I complained, grabbing a roll off the table.
Mickie looked at me, her face wrinkled with worry as bad as I’d ever seen it.
“What?” I asked.
She looked ready to burst into tears.
Sir Walter indicated the computer. I looked and saw an news article about last night’s car pile–up. With a photo showing about a mile of cars, although only those in front were really visible.
And then I saw what had my sister so upset.
Me. Sticking my head out the window, which I’d done for, like, all of two seconds. In front of me, looking ridiculous in a Nintendo stretch–cap, sat Sir Walter.
Thanks to some stupid cell phone camera, we were officially headline news.
Chapter Fifteen
----
AROUND ALL THE TIME
· SAM ·
“Hey, Christian,” said Gwyn. She sidled herself next to him in the one–person passenger seat of my Blazer.
“Really, Gwyn?” I muttered, pulling the car into reverse.
She’d called, insisting it looked like rain and would I please swing by the bakery to pick her up. The bakery was directly across from the school parking lot.
“Over there,” she said, pointing to the far side of the lot. “I saw a good parking space.”
What she saw was an opportunity to hang out thigh to thigh with Christian. She flung an arm around his neck as I revved over a speed–bump.
“Hey, careful, Sam! Not all of us are seat–belted in here!” She smiled at Christian and murmured, “Sorry,” indicating the drape of her arm along his shoulders.
She was patently not sorry.
“Oh, darn,” she said as another car took the spot. “Guess we’ll have to circle around again. I didn’t see David Lopez aiming for that parking spot.”
I’d bet crazy kinds of money she did see him. I was familiar with the species Gwynicus Prowlicus and its devious ways.
Later, over lunch, Gwyn timed her seat–grabbing perfectly. That is, she waited until she could tell which seat Christian meant to take and then angled herself in so that he spent a brief moment upon her lap.
As he stood and apologized, she blinked at him innocently, something she’d perfected through years of hiding bad behavior from her mom.
Christian flushed while speaking to Gwyn. “Allow me to point out that this might be avoided, had you allowed me to remain standing until you had chosen your seat.”
Gwyn had told Christian he should quit doing things like remaining standing until the girls were seated. Or rising from the table if a girl got up to buy another soda. As far as I could tell, Gwyn’s ideas of Christian’s habits came from watching Jane Austen movies with her mom rather than from actual knowledge of seventeenth century court life in France. But Christian was too polite to say anything to embarrass her. Or maybe he found it all amusing. Or maybe he wasn’t listening. His vigilance on my behalf had definitely scaled way up since my kidnapping.
I found myself keeping my eyes open as well. I scanned faces
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