Page 38 of Brittle Heart

Her face crumples, and she bursts into tears, her small body shaking with sobs.

Mama rushes into the room, concern evident on her face. “What happened?” she asks, quickly moving to lift Chiara from the stool to comfort her.

I am still fuming and holding up the ruined drawing to her. “She destroyed it, Mama!”

Our mother looks at the drawing, then back at me. “Topolina,” she begins gently, “I know you’re upset and that your drawings mean a lot to you. But remember, you are her big sister. She is just a little girl. She does not understand the value of things just now.”

“But, Mama, it’s not fair!” I protest, tears forming in my own eyes. “I just wanted to make it perfect.”

She strokes over Chiara’s hair before she sets her down to pull me into a comforting embrace. “I know, my little mouse. And it’s okay to feel this way. But as the big sister, you also have a role to play. Chiara looks up to you, and she is still learning. We need to guide her together.”

I glance at Chiara, who is now looking remorseful. I take a deep breath, “I am sorry,piccola.Do you want to draw with me?”

Our mother smiles at me, kissing my cheek. “Brava,life isn’t always fair,topolina, but it’s how we react in those moments that truly defines us.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Josh

We bring the girls back to headquarters and let the assistant call their parents. I can’t stop staring at the smaller girl’s eyes. They are so much like Carolina’s. The hair color and surname fit too.

Is she a cousin or something?

The Italian community is big in New York, and ‘Costa’ occurs as frequently as ‘Smith.’ But those eyes are not an everyday sight.

A tall, middle-aged woman walks into the waiting room, and we nod to her as she gets to her daughter and starts berating her. “What were you thinking? I raised you better than this! This happens when you hang around that ghetto kid all the time.” Then she turns to the one named Chiara and raises a finger at her. “Everything we did for you, and this is how you repay us? Influencing her to do such things!”

“Mom, it wasn’t her idea,” the blonde girl starts.

“I don’t want to hear it, Monica!” the mother shouts, and she deflates. The woman straightens and walks over to us. “Officers,” she starts. “I am very sorry for my daughter’s behavior. But you will see it’s her first ever slip, and it will not happen again.” She throws her daughter a stern look. “I am sure we can manage the situation by paying a fee without writing her down.”

“No one is going to write anyone down. Our main concern was ensuring the safety of your daughter and her friend, so we brought them here. Unfortunately, we are required by the state to impose a fine as a legal penalty,” I explain.

I notice Chiara’s golden eyes widen in response.

“And how much would that fine be?” the mother asks.

“We will need to wait for her parents to arrive and then have a discussion with both of you, if you don’t mind,” I say.

She lets out a huff in response. “That means we’ll be waiting for a long time.”

Furrowing my brows, I’m about to ask what she means when Carolina rushes into the room, appearing frantic as she scans the area. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but strands stick out around her face. Her beautiful face is red, and her lips have a blue sheen.

Did she get here without a jacket?

She’s dressed in her usual black jeans and a black Henley, but she also wears an apron around her waist.

Does she work at a restaurant on the weekends?

I check the clock, and it’s already after two.

“Chiara,” she exclaims as soon as she catches sight of her, moving swiftly to stand in front of her and gently framing her face with both hands.

Chiara is slightly taller and petite, but now that they stand face to face, their resemblance is uncanny. “You okay,piccola?Sei ferito?”

Tears start to brim in Chiara’s eyes, and she lets out a choked sob. “I am so sorry.”

Carolina draws her into an embrace, gently patting her hair. “Shh… it’s okay… you’re okay.”

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