Page 8 of Mafiosa
A part of me wanted to burst out laughing – a horrible, screeching, humourless laugh. If only she knew how close I was to committing the most soul-changing act in the world. If only she knew how ragged my soul was now, how much timeI spent replaying all the ways the Marinos had stung me, all the ways I wanted to hurt them. As far as she was concerned, I was just lying low at the Falcone compound. If she really knew what I was going to trade for their acceptance, she’d have my head on a plate.
‘I have to organize anentireschool dance,’ Millie wailed. ‘Can you evenimaginethat kind of stress?’
I snorted, trying to grasp on to the hint of amusement and not the thick, cloying dread that had taken hold of my insides since yesterday, since the sight of my mother’s car burning on the threshold to the Falcone underworld started haunting my every waking thought.
‘What was I thinking? I barely have a month to pull this whole thing off and no one has come up withanygood theme ideas. I am working with a pack ofidiots.’
‘You’ll be fine. I have full faith in you.’ I linked arms with her as we made our way to English class, pushing my own worries down, down, down. School was for the old Sophie. Not the new one. Not the real one.
We took our seats at the back of the classroom. I slumped into my chair and kept my head down, but I could still feel the gazes drilling into the side of my head, the whispers scuttling around the room like spiders.
She never smiles any more.
I heard it was her uncle who set fire to the place and now they can’t find him anywhere.
I heard she set the fire. She’s a psychopath just like her dad.
If I had my way I would have dropped out of school the day I showed up on the Falcones’ doorstep, but they wereadamant about having me continue my studies to retain ‘some level of normality’ in my life, and Millie… well, I had made her a promise. We were going to do senior year together, and only a bad friend would break such a big promise. I was determined to be a good friend. So that meant essays and calculus and dance planning and football games and the slow creeping doom of a future I wasn’t sure I had any more.
Millie ripped a page out of her notebook and began furiously scribbling on it as Mr Simmons, our English teacher, swept into the room. He was dressed entirely in tweed, like he had just tumbled out of the early 1900s and couldn’t quite figure out where he was.
‘What are you doing?’ I tried to ignore Erin Reyes, who was one desk over and leering at me. I had already been a source of amusement to her, but now I had graduated to the shelf of ‘tragic’, and that meant she wanted to stare at me at least twice as much. Without looking at her, I rubbed my cheek with my middle finger. She muttered something under her breath and I let the satisfaction paint the smile across my face.
‘For your next assignment, I want you to pick a piece of writing that you can identify with on a deep emotional level, and explain why,’ Simmons began cheerfully. ‘So with that in mind, today we are going to dive into some poetry.’
I’d rather dive into a volcano.
Millie passed me the piece of paper. ‘I don’t have time to dive into anything,’ she whispered. ‘We’re picking a dance theme.’
‘Who is?’ I unfolded the paper.
‘Us,’ she hissed. ‘By the time this class is over, we’ll have nailed it.’
I scanned the list of possibilities.Pimps and Pirates, Heroes and Villains, Childhood Cartoons, Barbarians and Librarians.
‘That last one is you just rhyming random stuff,’ I felt compelled to point out. ‘It makes no sense.’
‘Shhhhut up.’
At the bottom of the page she had written and then crossed out,Sexy Fruit?I side-glanced at her. ‘Permission to have absolutely nothing to do with this at any point ever at all?’
‘Permission denied.’ Millie slid a glitter pen on to my desk. ‘Now get creative, Gracewell.’
I glanced warily at the piece of paper. Old Sophie would help with this. Old Sophie was the friend Millie deserved. School was for her. I swallowed my feelings down, and got to work.
What about balloons? People love balloons.
I slipped the note to Millie and watched her face contort. She scribbled back.
Consider me offended by this first attempt.
Mars? Mars is topical.
Against all possible odds, your suggestions have actually gotten worse.
This is why I’m not on the dance committee.
If you were, I’d have to fire you immediately.
