Getting the Boot (15 page)

Kelly felt a rough tap on her shoulder, and turned to see Marina standing next to her, with her hands on her hips.

“As usual, everyone is waiting for you. I've been sent to pry you out of here.”

“Sorry. He's just so amazing,” Kelly said.

“You know, under your prom-queen exterior, you're actually a massive nerd.” Marina smirked. “Unless you just dig ogling naked marble guys.”

Kelly laughed. “I'll go with massive nerd. And coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment.”

 

 

Kelly's favorite afternoon in Florence was spent wandering the grounds of the Boboli Gardens, the beautiful public park across the river. The view of the city was gorgeous from there, and although there were plenty of tourists around, the mood was serene and relaxed. Kelly and Marina trailed along after Sheela and Jarvis—he had been to Florence a bunch of times and knew a lot about the park's history.

“Look at this crazy statue!” Marina called out, pointing to a dwarf riding a turtle.

“A lot of the art here has a sense of humor,” Jarvis said as Sheela beamed proudly at him. “It was an artistic style called Mannerism. The gardens were designed to entertain people who walked here.”

Kelly was really enjoying spending time with Sheela again, and she wanted to do everything she could to make it last. And the more time she spent with Jarvis, the more Kelly liked him. Unlike a lot of the kids in the program, he didn't treat Marina like a freak, and he didn't judge Kelly for her previous mistakes. She could see why Sheela was crazy about him.

“So this was the Renaissance version of an amusement park?” Kelly asked.

“You could say that. There used to be jets of water all over the place that would squirt up randomly and soak people. I'm not sure how funny they found it.”

“If they were half as concerned about their hair as Kelly is, I'm guessing they hated it,” Sheela deadpanned.

“Please, Sheela told me those Medicis had zillions of servants around to fix their hair,” Kelly groused. “I, on the other hand, have to brave this humidity with a zero-watt blow-dryer and a pathetic travel-size bottle of Bed Head.”

“And why are we so concerned about our hair, Kelly?” Sheela's smile widened. “Still expecting Orlando Bloom to materialize?”

Kelly blushed as an image of Luigi popped into her head.

Marina's eyes narrowed. “I swear, if you're thinking about Joe, Sheela and I are gonna hang you from the Ponte Vecchio by your perfect pink toenails.”

Kelly felt strangely shy. “I was thinking about someone else, and believe me, he's the anti-Joe. Sheela, do you remember the guy I told you about, from the Vatican info center?”

She filled them in on her second encounter with Luigi, word for word.

“Has he called yet?” Marina demanded.

“No,” Kelly said. “But I told him we'd be away for a while.” She smiled. “Even if he doesn't, I can always use another bad wardrobe choice as an excuse to see him again.”

 

 

After the gardens, they walked across the Ponte Vecchio, the ancient bridge that connected the two halves of Florence. Kelly had never seen a bridge with stores on it before—there were jewelry shops running its entire length. Gold shimmered in every window, and the kids ambled along, window-shopping. In the center of the bridge, Kelly stopped and leaned against the rail, watching the sun set over the Arno.

She didn't know Joe was behind her until his chin was resting on her shoulder. “Pretty, huh?”

Kelly straightened up, shaking him off. “Yeah, it's gorgeous.”

“Romantic, right?” Joe gripped her hands and squeezed, looking deep into her eyes. “Listen, I really miss you.”

Kelly glanced over her shoulder. Sheela and Marina were both watching, concern written all over their faces. Somehow, knowing they were there made her feel stronger. “I've been in so much trouble already, Joe. I can't risk screwing up again this summer. I'm sorry.”

He didn't move. He kept gazing at her, an anguished look on his face. “You sure?” There was more than a hint of threat in those two words.

Kelly looked away. “Yup. I'm really sorry, Joe.”

He dropped her hands and smiled. “Your loss, Kel.” Then he turned and walked into the shadows.

When Sheela and Marina appeared at her side, Kelly realized she was shaking. “What the hell was that about?” Marina demanded. Kelly could have hugged them both, but PDAs were neither girl's style.

“It's okay. I think he finally got the message that it's over.” The three of them leaned their elbows on the railing and watched the water gently lapping the ancient stones below them. Finally, Kelly felt she could relax.

Their last morning in Florence, Marina and Sheela sat with Kelly at breakfast. Even though she suspected they were just there to scare Joe off, she enjoyed every minute of it. Kelly listened, slack-jawed with amazement, as Sheela held her own in an animated discussion of punk rock and alternative music. It turned out that all those hours Sheela spent reading, she had their local college radio station playing in the background.

“What's up with Andrea?” Sheela gestured with her chin. This morning Andrea seemed exhausted and preoccupied. Before breakfast, the girls had passed by her in the hall, having an urgent-sounding conversation on her cell phone. As soon as she spotted them, she had stopped talking, watching until they stepped into the dining room.

Kelly had been too excited to notice. After getting a taste of the Tuscan countryside, she was dying to get out of the city and kick back a little. The group was visiting two villages, San Gimignano and Montepulciano, during the day. Then they were spending the night in the middle of an olive grove, at a pensione run by a farmer and his wife.

It sounded so romantic and charming, Kelly wished she had someone special to share it with. Her thoughts turned to Luigi once again. There was an air of genuine kindness and sincerity about him that made her want to get to know him better. She really hoped he'd call when she got back to Rome.

A well-aimed elbow from Marina jolted Kelly back to earth. “Don't look now, but Princess Prada is headed directly for you, and she doesn't look happy.”

“Kelly, can I have a moment?” Andrea asked, motioning her aside.

“We'll see you on the bus, Kel,” Sheela said, shooting her a puzzled look.

“It's important that I speak to you later, Kelly,” Andrea said to her once they were out of earshot. “See me right after dinner, okay? Don't blow this off.”

Kelly was a little miffed. She had been as punctual as an atomic clock these past few weeks. Andrea, of all people, should know how hard she was trying to mend her bad reputation. And what was so serious that Andrea needed to keep it from Kelly's friends? She grabbed her bag and headed for the bus, forcing any bad thoughts from her mind.

“What was that about?” Marina asked when Kelly dropped into the seat next to her.

“No clue,” Kelly replied. “She just said we needed to talk later. I don't get it; I haven't screwed up once during this trip.”

Marina opened her novel. “Not even once? I'm sure we can think of something.”

Normally, Kelly would have smiled, but Andrea's somber face loomed in her mind. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss, it sounded serious.

 

 

“There she blows, San Gimignano! A lot of people say the skyline reminds them of New York City. What do you think?”

Oddly enough, Kelly saw exactly what Steve meant. Even though it was set on a hill overlooking rolling green farmland, the little town's cockeyed stone towers bore a strange resemblance to skyscrapers.

“In medieval times, the higher you built, the richer you were. In this town's heyday, there were more than seventy tall towers standing. Now, only thirteen are left. But they'll give you a good idea of what a thriving medieval community looked like.”

At Poggibonsi, the group transferred to a local bus into town. “There are no cars allowed within the city walls, so get ready to do some walking,” Steve announced cheerfully.

“I can't wait to show you guys some of the natural wonders in this part of the country,” he added. “Here in Tuscany, you can learn a lot about nature just by walking into a local
enoteca
, where they sell food and wine. For instance, San Gimignano is known for growing
zafferano
, or saffron, the costliest spice in the world. They also grow a special variety of grape that makes their famous white wine, Vernacchia.”

Food, wine, and spices. Kelly could deal with that. They entered the city through an imposing archway set into thick stone walls and found themselves on a bustling main street. Kelly busied herself with checking out the pretty shops while other students dutifully pulled out their work-books and started scribbling. They only had a few hours to spend here before heading on to Montepulciano, the largest town in the area.

Still, as they strolled the winding lanes of San Gimignano and Montepulciano, Kelly found her buoyant mood punctured by little pinpricks of worry. Andrea's tone had been urgent, and she had looked so worn and frazzled at breakfast. Was there a problem at home? Had something happened to her parents? Kelly swiftly dismissed this theory; Andrea would have told her straight up. What was so crucial that they absolutely had to talk, yet could wait until after dinner, hours from now?

 

 

The clear, sunny afternoon gave way to a balmy, pink-tinged dusk. As they boarded yet another bus to go to the olive grove, Pulcinella, the strange clownlike figure who topped the clock tower in Montepulciano, raised his mechanical arm and struck the hour. Not so long now until her meeting with Andrea—Kelly's stomach tightened in dread.

The pensione was a long, flat stone building set on a sprawling plot of land planted with olive trees. The main farmhouse and several outbuildings were just opposite the inn. Their hosts, Ivano and Teresa Severino, along with their four friendly dogs, greeted them at the door.

It was late, so dinner was put on the table quickly. Like many meals in Italy, the food was served family-style—on huge platters passed from person to person. There was antipasto of grilled vegetables and homemade pasta for the main course. Teresa Severino explained what each dish was as it was set on the table. The kind, graceful woman reminded Kelly of her grandmother. She reached up to touch her locket, then caught herself. She wondered if her grandparents had stayed at a wonderful place like this on their honeymoon.

Kelly hadn't expected to have much of an appetite, but before she knew it, her plate was empty. Even Lisa the Tree Hugger scarfed down her linguini, pecorino cheese and all.

Big bowls of locally grown grapes and figs were put out for dessert. Each guest was poured a little glass of
vin santo
, sweet dessert wine. Kelly sat back in her seat, stuffed. This was one of the best meals she'd ever eaten, but she also felt like a prisoner who had just finished his final dinner before facing the firing squad.

Finally, Andrea led her down a hallway to a quiet office and motioned for her to sit. Kelly wished she hadn't eaten so much; her stomach was churning like a washing machine.

Andrea sighed, a pained look on her face. “Kelly, last night Dr. Wainwright received an anonymous e-mail telling him to search your locker for drugs.” Kelly relaxed; unless he was looking for Midol and prescription zit cream, she was totally in the clear.

Silently, Andrea handed her a fax from Dr. Wainwright.

Kelly read the message twice, then went back and looked at the e-mail address, trying to get some clue to the sender's identity. It was sent from a freebie mailbox that anyone could set up.

“Well, this is obviously some kind of stupid gag. I mean, Dr. Wainwright knows it's ridiculous—just tell him to go check my stuff.”

“He already did. His search turned up a bag of pot and some other things.” Andrea leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. “Kelly, I don't want to believe this, but it's pretty damning evidence. Not only could he expel you immediately, Dr. Wainwright could level criminal charges against you.”