Page 19 of No Escape

Thank goodness it was something I’d heard of before. He presented Mia with a bowl. She scooped up a spoonful and tasted it before saying something to him in Italian, and he grinned.

“He’s as crazy as a cat in catnip,” Mia whispered to me with a strange southern drawl when he returned to the kitchen to get more soup bowls. “It’s not minestrone.”

I paused, my spoon inches from my lips. “It’s not?”

“It’s not. It’s a spicy version ofpasta e fagioli, which is different from minestrone. He may be the son of the chef, but he obviously has no idea about food.” She took another bite, a thoughtful look on her face. “It’s excellent, by the way, if you like your soup spicy.”

I didn’t but wasn’t going to admit that to a teenager. “So, you corrected him?”

“No.” She ate another spoonful. “I told him you thought he was cute.”

“What?” I looked at her in astonishment. “Why would you say that?”

She laughed at the expression on my face. “I’m just joking. Of course, I told him it wasn’t minestrone soup. After that, I told him I liked his tie. I might have been flirting a little. Take a chill tablet.”

It took me a moment to get there. “You mean a chill pill?”

“Oh, yes!” She clapped her hands. “That’s it. I’m learning English slang at school. I’m an exchange student right now at Benjamin Franklin High School in New Orleans. That’s in Louisiana, by the way, which is in the southern part of your America. America issomuch fun. I love how they talk in the South. Everyone is friendly and loud, kind of like us Italians. But I especially love Louisiana, because the people there love their food just like we Italians do.”

I had no idea if people from Louisiana liked their food more than people in any other state, but at the moment, I didn’t have a way to confirm that. “I’ve actually never been to Louisiana.”

“Never? Well, as my host mama likes to say, why, bless your heart,” Mia said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You know, the way you Americans talk is almost as much fun as the food. Maybe you’ll come visit me while I’m there.”

The thought of traveling to a state I’d never been to in order to visit a teenager I barely knew was a huge statistical improbability for me. But even I knew enough social convention not to say so aloud. “How old are you, Mia?”

“I’m almost seventeen. My host mama says she’s going to throw me a big shindig when it’s my birthday. I just love the way my host mama talks. It issodifferent from the English I learned in Italy. I’m really excited you’re here, Lexi. I hope you’ll help me improve my English. Vittoria just thinks I’m crazy most of the time, making up weird phrases.”

I was kind of leaning toward Vittoria’s way of thinking, but I didn’t say so. “Your English is good, Mia. Really good. Just take it easy on the slang.”

“But I want to fit in,” Mia said earnestly. “And be just like every other American teenager.”

She grinned and resumed eating, so I returned to my soup. Mia was right, it was a bit spicy but good, and I was hungrier than I’d thought. I ate another piece of bread and finished off the soup. When I was almost finished eating, I looked up and realized Oscar was staring at me. Maybe he thought it was rude that I’d single-mindedly focused on eating without saying a word to him. I hoped I hadn’t made any slurping noises.

I set down my spoon and quickly wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Is everything okay?”

Oscar’s face was rather flushed, and sweat had started to gather at his temples. I didn’t know if that meant he was hot, sick of me, nervous, or something else.

“The soup is a little spicy for me,” he said, dabbing his napkin at his upper lip. “I didn’t think to mention that on the food questionnaire.”

Now that I thought about it, neither had I. I’d kind of assumed I would like all the food in Italy. At least, so far, that had been my experience. “I’m not a huge fan of spicy, either, but this doesn’t seem too bad.”

“Yes, well, spicy foods and I are not a good mix.” There was an awkward pause, and then he cleared his throat. “By the way, I neglected to welcome you to the family, Lexi.”

Wasn’t that sweet? “Thanks, Oscar. I’m really glad to be a part of it.”

While I was proud of myself for my smooth response, the conversation abruptly came to a halt because I couldn’t think of what else to say and, apparently, neither could Oscar. I desperately searched for something to say when I remembered the guidelines for talking with the in-laws.

Get him to talk about himself.

Chapter Eleven

Lexi Carmichael

“Hey, Oscar, do you have any hobbies?”

Oscar paused for a moment, his brows drawing together in surprise, or maybe confusion. Perhaps that had been too abrupt of a transition. I couldn’t tell if I’d freaked him out or puzzled him or whether social discourse wasn’t his strong suit, either. How would I know? I’d just met him, and Slash hadn’t warned me that Oscar wasn’t talkative or social. Iknewwe should have spent more time on the spreadsheet covering all the personality traits of his family. Because if Oscar also had trouble conversing, we were like the blind leading the blind, and who knew where that would lead?

My anxiety spiked, and I twisted my napkin in my lap. Now I wished I hadn’t said anything and had just been glad he’d welcomed me.

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