Giovane Amore

Kristen awakes when the sun peaks through the blinds of her new room. Her eyes open wide and take in the not-yet familiar surroundings that encircle her. From the spacious room she has to move around, to the new furniture that barely takes up the space in the bedroom. The only items she took with her from her old home back over seas are the old, beaten up clothes she managed to grab and a photograph of herself, her parents and her little sister that surprisingly didn’t get charred with the overwhelming flames.

The images of waking up in the room she shared with her seven year old sister with smoke swirling around them are forever burned into her memory. Along with the shouts about getting out that rang throughout the house and then the earth-shattering silence that followed a few minutes after as Kristen ran out into the street in just her sleep wear, thinking that her mother was right behind her and that her father would be sprinting out of the flames with her sister, Isabella, slung over his shoulder.

But, she remembers, when she finally caught her breath and took in the crowd of neighbors and the firemen that moved around her to control the flames, she realized that she was standing alone with Bruno, her German Shepherd, that managed to escape at his own will. She remembered the rush of tears that flowed down her olive skin at the words that circled her, stating that three dead bodies were found inside.

Which brings her here, in America-- not Italy, the only place she had ever known.

The door to her room opens slowly, and the woman she hasn’t seen since her youth stands there with a tray in her frail hands. “Kristen?” the woman, her grandmother, asks to the darken room. “Are you up? It’s time to get ready for your first day at school. I brought you some breakfast, if you’re hungry, of course.”

Kristen releases the death grip that she has on Bruno’s fur, which she must have cuddled into last night in her sleep, and pushes herself up in a sitting position. She doesn’t understand why her grandmother doesn’t get that she doesn’t speak English, nor understands it. But, she notices the bowl of cereal that sits on the breakfast tray. Without a word, Kristen motions for the older woman to place it on her dresser as she moves around the room, trying to find an outfit out of the small bundle of clothes that she managed to save from the damaged house.

Her grandmother watches her for a moment before exiting the room with a tired sigh.

Focusing on the matter, Kristen grabs a pair of torn up jeans and an old football shirt from her youth. When she tugs the clothing on, she notices Bruno staring up at her with his large brown eyes and she shakes her head, scratching behind his ears. “Siate buoni, Bruno.”

The dog whines pitifully as she walks out of the room.

---------
The high school, here in Baltimore, Maryland, is a big change from the one she was familiar with for the last four years. Instead of old, but still intact, bricks and heavy wooden doors, the modern school in front of her reminds Kristen of the ones she once saw in some high-class American movie she watched with one of her old friends. The school was three stories high with glass and steel doors decorating the front as the students that occupy it lounge lazily in the front court yard before the school day starts.

It was obvious it wasn’t their first day of school, since it was nearly the middle of the year.

Which is just what Kristen needs; to be noticed even more for being a student that comes when the third semester just started up instead of coming in at the beginning and hiding herself in the crowds that don’t stare at her.

Like what they’re all doing now.

Kristen ducks her head down and swallows as she tugs her bag up higher onto her shoulders and pushes past the cliques of friends that stand awkwardly in her way. The, seemly thousands of eyes, follow her as she trudges up the front steps and into the chilly school.

But, not to her relief, the halls of the school were just as bad as the staring that happened outside.

Not making eye contact with anyone, Kristen tries to locate the office in the jumble mess of the hallways. Thankfully, she finds herself standing in front of a room that seems to be like an office, almost set up the same way that her old high school’s way—which makes her stomach churn painfully. Slowly, she enters the well-lit room and slinks her way up to the first desk she sees.

The pudgy, red-headed woman that sits there glances up from the paper’s she’s shuffling through and frowns. “How may I help you, dear?”

Even though Kristen doesn’t comprehend the English language, she holds up the messy transcripts and hands them to the woman. She watches timidly as the woman’s eyes grow wide at the words that describe everything that happened just this past week.

“So, I guess you don’t speak any English,” the red-head murmurs, then laughs to herself. “I don’t understand why I’m even asking you because you have no idea what I’m saying.”

Kristen’s jaw clenches and her nostrils flare in anger.

She doesn’t get what’s so funny about the paper she just read.

Her hatred for this country is increases more and more after every second.

“Follow me,” the woman says, and laughs again to herself. “Old habit to break, right?”
Kristen tilts her head to the side in confusion as her eyes follow the woman that walks out from behind the desk and out the glass door. Realization washes over her and she quickly trails after the woman, who doesn’t even look back to see if Kristen is following her or not. As she walks behind the woman, Kristen glares at her from under the hood of her sweatshirt.

Shortly, they come to a closed door with a small window, to which Kristen can see into and watches an older man write on the chalkboard in front of him as his students joke around behind his back. She gets that this most be her first class of the day and snatches the paper—her schedule –from the woman’s hand and walks into the classroom.

At least twenty pairs of eyes meet her own and Kristen feels like heat of blush creep up her neck and painting her face a vibrant red.

As fast as she can, Kristen taps the shoulder of the teacher and holds up her schedule, not knowing what she’s supposed to do.

The man smiles warmly, the first person in this country, beside her grandmother, to show that he’s actually friendly. “Ah, you must be Kristen Capone. I’m Mr. Richards and this is US History III.”

“U-Uh,” Kristen stutters out and points to the words Italy on one of the papers in her hands. “Io non parlo Ingleses. A tutti.”

“Oh? Oh,” Mr. Richards says with understanding and looks out towards his class of seniors. “Alright, who would like to take Miss Capone to the Italian teacher?” He looks around the room and smirks, making Kristen look in his line of sight to a blonde haired boy sleeping non-so-secretly in the back of the room. “Ah! Mr. Merrick, nice of you to offer!” he yells.

The boy jolts awake and another boy, that sits next to him, with a headband around his head laughs loudly.

“What did I agree to?” the blonde slurs in his post-sleep state.

“Why, Zachary, you’ve agreed to take Kristen here to the Italian teacher and to write a two-thousand word essay on why sleeping in my class is a bad idea.”

Headband Boy laughs so hard that he curls into himself, causing him to get a swift punch to the shoulder from the boy, Zack.

Muttering under his breath, Zack grabs his bag and books. He rubs at his eyes as he walks, and when he gets to Kristen, his eyes widen, but return to normal just as fast. “Why do you need to see the Italian teacher?”

Shaking his head and sighing, Mr. Richards rolls his eyes. “You need to start paying attention. She’s from Italy and doesn’t speak English. I need you to take her to the Italian teacher to see if maybe she can help her learn since she’s living here now.”

Kristen watches their exchange in frustration that she can’t understand anything their language. The frustration keeps building up inside her, to the point where she just wants to scream and curse because she knows they won’t understand what she’s saying.

Once again, another person—Zack, turns and walks out the room without even motioning for Kristen to follow. So, instead of calmly walking after him, she stomps and makes faces at his back, not caring if Mr. Richards or her peers can see her.

As soon as they get a good distance down the hallway, Zack turns towards her and looks her over, making Kristen raise her eyebrows. “So, you don’t speak any English? How is that even possible? Don’t people over in Europe take English classes like we take Spanish or French? Even Italian.”

Kristen groans and motions zipping up her lips and throwing away the key.

“Wait—What? You want me to shut up? Why—”

Rolling her eyes, she reaches up and pinches his lips closed, sighing when he stops talking, because, really, it was giving her the biggest headache.

“Alright, maybe I can remember something from Italian class that I learned last year,” Zack says once she releases her hold on his lips. He looks above as he thinks, not noticing Kristen’s glare. “Oh! I know! Ho un gatto.”

At his words, Kristen looks around them, searching for what he was talking about. When she doesn’t find it, she looks up him and motions her confusion and meowing sarcastically.

Zack blinks and huffs. “I totally forgot that meant I have a cat.”

---------

The lunch bell suddenly rings and Kristen jumps at her spot in the front seat of the empty class room. Well, near empty. The other person that occupies the room is Mrs. Salvatore, the young and surprisingly sweet Italian teacher that Kristen is grateful that she met today. Finally being able to talk to someone in her native tongue and being able to complain—getting everything off her chest, really made her calmer and not on the edge.

Mrs. Salvatore walks over to Kristen and gives her a one-armed hug. “Se avete bisogno di nulla, sono sempre qui.”

“Grazie. Grazie.”

Smiling softly, Mrs. Salvatore gently pushes her towards the door and watches as Kristen hesitantly walks out of the room and down the hall.

When the lunch room comes into view, fear suddenly washes over Kristen and she stands frozen at the doors. She knows what happens when the new kid goes to lunch. Either they get stuck sitting with the ‘freaks’ of the school or they sit by themselves. And she doesn’t know which one she’s going to fall into.

And Kristen doesn’t like the feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen.

She didn’t know her life would change dramatically.

She didn’t know that the only family she knew would disappear from her eyes.

She didn’t know what she was going to do now that she has to live in America with the ever present language barrier that causes the agonizing frustration.

As if it were some sort of miracle, or just plain coincidence, Headband boy from US History III comes up to her side and swings an arm around her shoulder. “You seem a little lost there, Italy—Oh, no worries, I totally understand that you have idea what I’m saying which is kind of sad, yet cool ‘cause I can say you’re hot and you wouldn’t even hit me.”

Kristen just blinks.

Headband boy points to himself. “I’m Alex. You know, Al-Ex.”

Glaring, Kristen huffs and thinks that no, she’s not stupid and she understands his name is Alex.

Alex smiles at her narrowed eyes and steers them towards a half empty table in the back of the cafeteria. The occupants of the table look up at Kristen and she immediately recognizes the blonde boy, Zack; the other boys—well, she’s never seen them before.

“Oh, hey there, Merrick,” Alex says smugly and pats Kristen’s shoulders, the hand that lays there as his arm wraps itself snuggly around her neck. “Looky what I found! Hot Italian Exchange Student. Well, at least according to you.”

Kristen watches in confusion as Zach’s cheeks become pink; wanting to know exactly what Alex said.

“Shut up, bro,” Zach hisses.

“Dude, she has no idea what I’m saying. Watch—” Alex turns his attention to Kristen and grins. “Me and you should go in the three hundred wing bathroom and fuck until we both can’t stand.”

All the boys at the table, in unison, yell, “Alexander!”

Kristen just looks at their faces; the disgust in some and humor in the others, and she just stares at them blankly.

Alex laughs and gently pushes her down into one of the empty seats, which happens to be in between Zach and a boy that is constantly drumming with two forks against his lunch tray. Kristen cautiously places her bag on the table and presses her forehead into the lump the books inside created.

“Kristen!”

The said girl groans and lifts her head up in time to see Alex smirk and point around the table. “Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, but anyway,” he laughs and starts pointing to the occupants of the table. “That’s Jack. And you already met Zack. Then Rian,” he points to the drumming boy and then focuses his attention on a boy with a lip ring that seems to involved with his phone. “And that’s the loser nobody talks to—Matt.”

The boy, Matt, doesn’t even look up from his phone as he gives the talkative boy the finger.

Which causes Kristen to snort in humor.

Then she notices the quiet boy’s shirt.

Turning towards Alex, she motions to Matt’s shirt. “Mickey Mouse?”

Upon hearing the giant rodent’s name, Matt looks up with an excited grin and nods pulling out an almost matching pen. “Hell yeah, Mickey Mouse.”

Kristen laughs and pulls out her makeup bag that’s peppered with tiny mice with bows on their head. She points to his shirt and pen then to her bag. “Mini Mouse.”

“Oh my God, where have you been all my life?” Matt exclaims and raises his hand up.

Taking in his excited tone, Kristen smiles slightly and realizes that he’s trying to give her a high-five, so she smacks her palm softly to his.

When she turns back to look at the other boys, Zack smiles softly at her and adverts his eyes, with flushed cheeks, when he figures out she caught him staring.

Kristen bites at her lips and plays with the straps of her backpack as the boy across from her, Jack, tries to stuff as many marshmallows he can fit in his seemly large mouth.

Basically, she stops counting after twenty.

----------

After school, Kristen headed home quickly, so she didn’t have to be stopped by her grandmother that would most likely ask her how her day was. And even though it went better then she thought; with all the hilarious stunts that the boys she met preformed throughout the day, she still didn’t want it to stop with the nonstop questions she couldn’t understand and having her mood completely ruined.

So, instead, Kristen grabs Bruno’s leash and lets him walk her any direction he feels like going. As she trails behind him, she looks around the neighborhood and takes in all the scenery that’s around her. From the blooming Dogwood trees to the squirrels that dart out in the road in front of them.

Somehow, she and Bruno end up at a children’s playground and Kristen pulls him over to the swing set, so she can try him to the metal pole beside her and move around slightly on the rusted swing. Here, she tries to forget about the tragedy that happened just days before, and try to think of ways to live her life—because she knows that’s what her parents and sister would have wanted.

They wouldn’t have wanted her to be holed up in a room for months as she mourned their death.

But, instead, Kristen knows that they want her to be happy and try not to think about how the house suddenly went up into flames or how they never came out to the street.

She sighs and looks down at Bruno, who’s resting his large head on her thigh and wagging his tail erratically. Kristen laughs and scratches the same spot he always loves; behind his ears.

Suddenly movement from her right causes her to jolt and grip the swing, so she doesn’t fall backwards. Instead of a stranger, she’s met with Zack’s soft eyes and crooked smile.

“I didn’t realize you lived in this neighborhood,” he says and starts swinging on his own. Then he pauses and nods to himself. “You don’t understand what I’m saying. Um,” Zack stops and then points to himself and shakes his hands—“I didn’t—” then points to his temple then to her—“know you—“ and finally forms a sorry excuse of a house with his hands—“lived here.”

Kristen shrugs and smiles slightly.

Then, Zack notices the over-excited German Shepherd in front of him and laughs, ruffling the fur on his head.

“Bruno,” Kristen says as she points to the dog, trying to remember some words she managed to pick up today. “From Italy. With me.”

Zack chuckles and lets the dog slobber all over his hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Bruno.”

Suddenly, the words from the tiny lesson Mrs. Salvatore taught her today flashed into her head. Slowly and hesitantly, she speaks. “Sorry that I do not speak good?”

Looking down at her, Zack’s lips twitch up. “That’s okay. Everyone has to learn.”

“You—“ she pauses and swallows, trying to put the sentence together in her mind before speaking it. “You teach me? English?”

“I could try. I mean, I stole an Italian to English dictionary out of the World Languages office just so I could try to talk to you.”

Not really understanding what he said, Kristen just smiles and leans her head on his shoulder and pushes her swing to match his pace.