Love & Gelato

A handful of confetti rained down on me. He called? “Ren. It’s short for ‘Lorenzo.’?”


“That makes more sense. He said you’re going to a party with him tonight?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe.” The whole Howard/journal thing had done an awesome job at crowding everything else out of my brain. Was I feeling gutsy enough to go?

Howard’s forehead creased. “Well, who is he?”

“He lives nearby. His mom’s American and he goes to the international school. I think he’s my age.”

His face lit up. “That’s great. Except . . . Oh, no.”

“What?”

“I started grilling him because I thought he was one of the guys who chased you when you were out running. I think I might have scared him.”

“I met Ren behind the cemetery. He was playing soccer on the hill.”

“Well, I definitely owe him an apology. Do you by chance know his last name?”

“Ferrari or something? They live in a house that looks like gingerbread.”

He laughed. “Say no more. The Ferraras. How lucky that you ran into him. I didn’t realize their son was your age or I would have tried to arrange for you guys to meet. Is the party with your other classmates?”

“Potential classmates,” I said quickly. “I’m not sure if I want to go.”

His smile just increased in wattage, like he hadn’t heard me. “Ren wanted me to tell you that he can’t make it until eight thirty. I’ll make sure dinner is ready before then so you have plenty of time to eat. And we should look into getting you a cell phone—that way your friends won’t have to call at the visitors’ center.”

“Thanks, but that would probably be overkill. I only know one person.”

“After tonight you’ll know more. And in the meantime you can just give people my number so they don’t have to call the cemetery line. Oh, and good news. Our Internet connection is finally sorted out, so FaceTime should work great.” He set the papers on the porch. “I need to head down to the visitors’ center, but I’ll see you a little later. Enjoy your run.” He turned and went into the house, whistling quietly to himself.

I squinted after him. Was Howard my mom’s wrong choice? And what about the party? Did I really want to go meet a bunch of strangers?



“What about this?” I walked up to my laptop and twirled around so Addie could see what I was wearing.

She leaned in, her face filling the screen. She’d just woken up and her smudged eyeliner was kind of making her look like a blond vampire. “Hmm. Do you want me to be nice or do you want me to be honest?”

“Is there a possibility that you could you be both?”

“No. That shirt looks like it’s been wadded up in the bottom of a suitcase for three days.”

“Because it has.”

“Exactly. My vote is the black-and-white skirt. Your legs are killer and that skirt is maybe the only thing you have that doesn’t look awful.”

“Whose fault is that? You’re the one who talked me into binge-watching America’s Next Top Model instead of doing my laundry.”

“Listen, it’s all about priorities. One of these days I’m going to grow ninety inches, and then I’m totally going to be on that show.” She sighed dramatically, attempting to wipe some of the makeup off her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re going to a party. In Italy. I’m probably just going wind up stuck at Dylan’s again night.”

“You like going to Dylan’s.”

“No, I don’t. Everyone just sits around talking about all the stuff we could do, but then no one makes a decision and we end up playing foosball all night.”

“Look on the bright side. He has that downstairs freezer full of burritos and churros. Those are pretty good.”

“You’re right. Eating mass-produced churros totally sounds better than going to a party in Italy.”

I picked up my computer, then flopped onto my bed, setting it on my stomach. “Except I don’t like going to parties, remember?”

“Don’t say that. You used to.”

“And then my mom got sick and no one knew what to say to me anymore.”

She set her mouth in a line. “I honestly think some of that’s in your head. People just don’t want to say the wrong thing, you know? And you have to admit you shut people down a lot.”

“What do you mean? I don’t shut people down.”

“Um, what about Jake?”

“Who’s Jake?”

“Jake Harrison? Hot senior lacrosse player? Tried to ask you out for like two months?”

“He didn’t ask me out.”

“Because you kept avoiding him.”

“Addie, I could barely go thirty minutes without talking about my mom and crying. Think he would have been into that?”

She frowned. “Sorry. I know it’s been rough. But I think you’re ready now. In fact, I’m making an official prediction: Tonight you will meet and fall in love with hottest boy in all of Italy. Just don’t fall so in love that you don’t want to come home again. It’s already been the longest three days of my life.”

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