Tino was obsessed with the notion of Carlo, a bastard from Washington Heights, scaring the living fuck out of not just Frankie, but all of these spoiled, suburban gangsters.
“You’re coming back tomorrow.” Frankie arched an eyebrow at Nova, who had sobered when their father showed up. “Social worker’s been asking questions.”
Tino rolled over in bed rather than blurt out that he knew his father was fucking the social worker. He showed them all his back, stitched up in the basement of this mansion that doubled as a makeshift hospital for injured wiseguys. On-call doctors pumped him with bags and bags of O-positive blood and kept him alive whether he wanted them to or not.
It was so state-of-the-art Tino thought he was in a real hospital for two days. Then he figured out he was nearly killed in one Moretti basement and brought back to life in another.
The same way Nova was broken in one and rebuilt into this mafia dog in the other, at the arm of the godfather, whose voice filtered in and out of Tino’s drug-induced dreams the whole time.
“That’s fine,” Nova said rather than argue.
“It better be fine. You think you’re gonna hide up the don’s ass in this place. I don’t think so, chief. You got shit to do at home. The school keeps calling me. They said you need to take placement tests or something. Get it done. Keep the social worker happy. You only gotta toe the line until you’re sixteen.”
“What happens when he’s sixteen?” Carlo asked.
“I can drop out,” Nova whispered, and Tino could hear the pain in his voice.
He turned around, looking at his brother, who was sitting up now. Nova’s arms were folded over his knees as he stared at the wall sightlessly. It was like watching every dream Nova had for himself die right there in front of all of them.
Nova was supposed to do something amazing with the mind God gave him. None of them had been sure of what it was, but it seemed like the possibilities were endless. Back before Ma got sick, when Frankie didn’t give two shits about them, they talked a lot about Nova changing the world. It was such a real and tangible thing, Tino had been excited just hearing about it.
Except cancer was a terrible disease, one that drained not just the soul out of a family, but the bank accounts too.
At eleven, Nova did what he could to help get the money they needed to stay afloat after their ma got diagnosed.
Gambling was so easy for him.
He was able to get the cash, but he exposed himself after years of keeping his gifts hidden. Now their ma was dead. Their brother was in jail, and Nova’s dreams were shattered at his feet.
“Frankie—” Carlo started.
“It’s fine,” Nova said before he could finish. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I want Tino to stay in school, though.” He turned back to Frankie. “If that’s okay?”
“Whatever,” Frankie said dismissively. “I’ll tell ’em you’re coming out Friday to register both of yous.”
“At the same school?” Nova frowned, because he was in high school.
“You’re going to school with Carina.” Frankie turned and left without more of an explanation.
The three of them sat in silence after he left. Then Nova turned to Carlo and asked, “Where does Carina go to school?”
“St. Francis Catholic.” Carlo winced as he said it. “Most Cosa Nostra brats go there and not just our Borgata. They don’t ask questions.”
Nova lifted his gaze to Tino, and the two of them tried to process that. They’d gone to church on and off over the years, but their mother hadn’t been the most devout Catholic in Harlem. Now they were supposed to go to a Catholic school? A mafia Catholic school.
“So if I take Tino in to register him, and he’s still recovering—”
“It’s not gonna fucking matter,” Carlo assured them. “You could go in and tell them Frankie did it. They’re not telling a fucking soul.”
“And the tests, do I have to flake on them?” Nova asked him curiously. “I usually flake on tests like that. I score high, but not too high. So I get into advanced classes, but—”
“Just fucking take ’em. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure they already know about your memory thing.”
It was so strange to hear after a lifetime of trying to protect the secret of Nova’s memory. He didn’t seem to know how to respond to it any more than Tino did.
“This is Neverland. The rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore. The sooner you forget it, the easier it’ll be,” Carlo said softly. “Learn to fight your own battles. We have to be better than them. Stronger. Faster. Smarter. Lost Boys have to fly.”
Nova laughed at the reference and asked, “So what? Are you Peter Pan?”
“No.” Carlo shook his head and gave Nova a smile that made him look too handsome to be human. “Not for a long time. Me. I’m a pirate. Just a fucking pirate like the rest of ’em.” He leaned over and poked at Nova’s bare chest. “You’re Peter Pan now. Maybe you’ll do a better job with it.”