Getting the Boot (18 page)

Kelly stood on a ladder holding a huge sheet of paper, calculating how much space she needed for her Vatican painting. It was important to get this settled first so that nobody became a wall hog. Luckily, Veronica's Egyptian obelisk was tall and skinny, which left more room for the other five.

Kelly shook the charcoal dust out of her hair. She desperately needed to start her predate overhaul.
One hour and forty-five minutes until Operation Luigi. Wash hair. Clean under nails. Shave legs and pits. Moisturize!
The whole shebang would take at least an hour.

With a meter stick, she measured out a decent-looking block and held up her rough sketch. She marked her turf, then hopped down and helped Marina move the ladder over to her spot. Her work here was done. Kelly slapped the dust off herself and bolted, waving over her shoulder at the rest of the group.

“Give him hell, Kel!” Marina bellowed.

She hadn't felt this excited—or nervous—in ages. But when Kelly stepped through the park gate at five minutes after three, she looked cool and collected in Sheela's beaded Indian skirt (borrowed—with permission!) and a white sleeveless blouse. She found Luigi sitting on a bench reading a paperback.

“A pleasure to see you again, signorina.” He bowed and touched his lips to the back of her hand. “
Allora,
I am at your disposal. What would you like to do this afternoon?”

“Oh, anything, really. I'm just happy to spend some time with a charming Italian gentleman.” Kelly peeked up at him through her lashes and smiled.

Luigi laughed good-naturedly. “Well, let me know when you find him. In the meantime, I am happy to show you around.” He paused, looking over the hills and thinking. “I'm sure you've already seen it—the keyhole?”

Kelly didn't have a clue what he meant. “Um, I don't know.”

“Ah, come with me. I'll show you a very special treasure of Aventino.” They left the orange-scented
parco
and headed up Via di Santa Sabina. The street ended in a little piazza surrounded by white walls decorated with obelisks and statues.

“This building is home to the Knights of Malta, a religious order. The artist Piranesi designed this place for them.”

Kelly nodded. She had heard of Piranesi, but still didn't understand why they were there. Luigi led her over to one of several doors in the wall. A few tourists milled around, waiting, as people pressed their faces against it. When it was their turn, Luigi put his hand on her shoulder. “Tell me what you see.”

Kelly peeked through the brass keyhole and laughed. Piranesi had created a tiny work of art by positioning a simple keyhole in just the right place. The view, perfectly framed by an arch of leafy trees, was of the glimmering dome of the Vatican. “That's pretty cool, I must admit.”

“If you ever need inspiration for your mural, you have only to walk here and take a look.”

They walked back toward the park, chatting up a storm. Soon Luigi stopped next to a Vespa and unlocked it, handing Kelly a helmet. “I was thinking we could have dinner in Trastevere. How does that sound?”

“Great,” Kelly answered, staring at the scooter. It was pretty high up on her parents' list of no-nos.
Thou shalt stay off scooters.
But what the hell? She put on the helmet and climbed on, wrapping her arms tightly around Luigi's waist.

She had been to Trastevere a couple of times, but it was nicer with Luigi. He showed her quaint back alleyways crowded with dusty little shops, including a great English-language bookshop, where Kelly picked up a couple of novels for the flight home. Next they followed the Passeggiata del Gianicolo to the top of Janiculum hill, where they were rewarded with a staggering view of the city. Over espressos, they talked and watched kids riding the merry-go-round.

Later, they ate dinner outside, next to a bubbling fountain, at a romantic little trattoria. Kelly told Luigi about her life at home—her parents, her friends, and all the activities she was involved with at school. Luigi told her about his family, college life, and his summer job at the Vatican.

“I get to meet interesting people from all over,” he said. “And once in a while, I can help a beautiful, lost stranger. That's the best part of my job.”

“I hope that doesn't mean you're having dinner with every girl who asks you for help,” Kelly said teasingly.

“Don't worry.” Luigi laughed. “You are one of a kind.”

For dessert, Luigi took her for the best gelato of the entire trip. Much sooner than Kelly wanted, she and Luigi were saying good night on the front steps of the PIR.

“How much longer before you go home?”

“Just over two weeks.” The thought nearly broke Kelly's heart.

“May I see you again before then?”

“I'd love that.”

Luigi kissed her, first on one cheek, then on the other, and again on the opposite side. In return, Kelly gave him a big, American-style hug. Grinning, Luigi hopped on his scooter and roared off into the most perfect evening ever.

“What time is that thing later?” Marina asked Kelly.

“Eightish, I think. Sheela is a train wreck, she's so nervous.”

The girls were in the cafeteria, finishing the outlines of their buildings. In the week since they'd returned to Rome, everyone had made good progress on the mural. Andrea had started things off for them by priming the wall and painting it the piercing blue of the Roman sky. Then she added some cottony clouds and, among them, a pair of round-faced cherubs. The room looked brighter and happier already.

“Do you know what Orations are, exactly?” Kelly asked.

Marina scratched her nose, leaving a big, black paint streak. “From what I can tell, they put on togas, go to the Forum, and read famous speeches in Latin. Y'know, standing in the original guys' footprints and whatnot.”

It sounded even more boring than Kelly had thought, but it meant so much to Sheela, she wanted to be there for her.

“C'mon, it'll be cute watching the brainiacs put on a show. Is sweetie pie coming?” Marina teased.

Kelly had been taking every opportunity to spend time with Luigi, in person and on the phone. The idea of the Forum, lit up by a gorgeous sunset with the lights of the city glimmering behind it, was too romantic to pass up. “Yes, and he's taking me out to dinner first.”

Marina snorted. “I'd bet you've already got your Italian couture wedding dress all picked out. You better let me know when you set the date. I know a guy who makes great skirts out of old seat belts, but they're made to order.”

 

 

Before Luigi picked her up, Kelly ran to the local flower shop and talked the clerk into making her a garland of laurel leaves. Sheela deserved a prize for facing up to her fear of public speaking; strange how something so harrowing for poor Sheela came so effortlessly to Kelly.

By six o'clock, Kelly was primped, polished, and standing on the steps of the PIR as Luigi drove up.
Right on time,
Kelly thought.
And he looks adorable on that Vespa.

Luigi smiled as he got off the bike and kissed Kelly hello.

“Ciao.” Kelly beamed. “Thanks for coming.”

“It is my pleasure, signorina,” Luigi answered, handing Kelly his spare helmet and getting back on the Vespa. “Come, your chariot awaits you.”

Kelly climbed on and slid her arms snugly around Luigi. She could definitely get used to this.

 

 

Kelly had no idea what “Sott‘er cielo de Roma” meant, but the song certainly sounded romantic. She and Luigi were sitting across from each other at a small table at La Cisterna, the oldest restaurant in Trastevere. As far as Kelly was concerned, this was already the best date she had ever been on. Luigi was so sweet and charming, he made her feel like a Roman goddess. And after an unspeakably delicious pasta dinner, the two of them were being sere naded by a tuxedo-clad tenor. When he finished, everyone applauded loudly. The man smiled broadly and winked at Kelly before he moved on to another table.

“This is perfect,” Kelly gushed. “The restaurant is beautiful, the dinner was beautiful—”

“And you are beautiful,” Luigi finished, blushing despite himself. “But I have one more treat for you before we go to the Forum.”

Luigi helped Kelly out of her seat, then led her down to the restaurant's lower level. Kelly picked her way over the cobblestones, careful not to get her stilettos stuck. Luigi stopped in front of what looked like some kind of well. “La Cisterna is named for this,” he explained in a soft voice. “It's an ancient well from imperial times.”

Pulling her close, Luigi reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin.

“Legend says that if you toss a coin into the well, your wish will go straight into the heart of Rome, and will surely come true.” He pressed the coin into Kelly's hand and kissed her gently on the lips.

Kelly closed her eyes, tossed the coin over her shoulder, and wished for another summer in Rome.

 

 

As predicted, sunset at the Forum was spectacular; the ruins were bathed in soft, orange light and the sky was streaked with pinks and purples. Kelly and Luigi met up with Marina in front of the Senate Building to watch the orators' procession. Kelly noted with pleasure that Luigi didn't even blink over Marina's offbeat appearance.

About twenty students and a few curious bystanders milled around in front of a low stone column called the Umbilicus Mundus, which sounded to Kelly like it meant “belly button of the world.” Crazy Romans.

Six kids, including Sheela and Jarvis, arrived in togas and sandals, carrying rolled paper scrolls. Dr. Wainwright, and Marco, also wearing robes, led them to the Rostra, the ancient stone platform where the empire's greatest speakers had voiced their opinions.

“You know, after he had the famous orator Cicero assassinated, Marc Anthony ordered his head and hands cut off and nailed to the Rostra for all Romans to see,” Luigi whispered.

“Nice,” Marina said. “Don't tell Sheela till afterward.”

Dr. Wainwright delivered a brief, official-sounding speech in Latin, and then turned the platform over to Jarvis. With dignity and poise, holding his tall, scrawny body rod-straight, Jarvis opened his mouth and delivered a five-minute-long string of pure gibberish. Worst of all, when he finished, he repeated his speech in English—and it still made no sense to Kelly.

By speaker number three, Kelly had stroked Luigi's hand a hundred and forty-seven times, counted thirty-nine airplanes landing at Fiumicino Airport, and completely lost interest in Orations. But when Sheela's turn came, she forced herself to focus. The poor girl looked petrified; even in the semidarkness, Kelly could see the scroll shaking in her hands. But her voice was clear and expressive and her delivery was dramatic and convincing. Kelly caught her eye and smiled encouragingly.

Soon Sheela had completed the Latin and was moving on to the English translation. “‘On Friendship,'” she said, “by Marcus Tullius Cicero.

“‘The most difficult thing in the world is for a friendship to remain unimpaired to the end of life. So many things might intervene: conflicting interests; differences of opinion in politics; frequent changes in character.'” As she spoke, her eyes moved from Kelly to Jarvis to Marina, Lisa, and Minnie. “‘Let this, then, be laid down as the first law of friendship, that we should ask from friends, and do for friends, only what is good. But do not let us wait to be asked either... Let us have the courage to give advice with candor.'”

Kelly blushed as she remembered all the times Sheela had stuck up for her, stuck out her neck for her, and told her when she was being a jerk.

“‘How can a life be worth living,'” Sheela continued, “‘which lacks that repose which is to be found in the mutual goodwill of a friend? What can be more delightful than to have someone to whom you can say everything with the same absolute confidence as to yourself?'” She smiled out at the audience, and paused before the last line. “‘The greatest of all things is Friendship.'”

Kelly agreed with every word—the luckiest people were the ones who had friends. Flawed, honest, true-blue friends.

When the last words echoed through the Forum, the audience erupted in cheers. Kelly ran up to the platform and placed the leaf garland on Sheela's head.

“Thank you for being my friend,” she whispered.

There were only ten days left; ten days to finish projects, spend time with friends, and soak up every last drop of Rome. Kelly had painted the entire Vatican on the wall; now all she had to do was add about three million details. Lunch was winding up, and she could hear plates and sil verware clattering and kids chatting behind the makeshift curtain that hid the mural wall. Dr. Wainwright wanted the finished product to be a surprise.