Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance) (2 page)

The first half of the day goes by pretty fast. We had two lessons—one on math, and the other on science. Mr. Bishop talks like he’s in a hurry and has a lot of energy, but he’s really nice so far. I didn’t have to interact with anyone besides him, so my nerves calmed down after the horrible book incident. However, it’s lunch time and I’m walking in line towards the cafeteria. The walls in the hall are painted blue, white, and yellow—the school’s colors—and all six of the classes in this hall are going to lunch at the same time. Everyone’s talking, and the boys are being the loudest while the girls are being quiet because they’re sneakily whispering to each other. No one has talked to me, so I haven’t tried to talk to anyone else.

When we get into the cafeteria, which is really the school gym filled with tables for us to sit at, I’m surrounded by kids. Somehow, I still feel alone, though. As I look around and see things and people I don’t recognize, I feel homesick. The only place I can remember living is California, so everything here is new to me. Even as I take my seat with a tray full of things I won’t eat, I’m too shy and nervous to speak. Everyone else is so caught up in their own conversations and craziness, it’s like I don’t even exist. I’m all alone in a crowd.

Once we’re allowed to go outside for recess, I watch all the other kids in groups playing with each other. There’s a big basketball court full of boys playing everything from dodgeball to four square. There are girls with hula-hoops, and some drawing pictures on the concrete with chalk. The playground in front of me is a big field with swings and big metal jungle gyms for us to climb all over, but I’m just not feeling up to it. All I really want is for this day to be over. I just want to go home to my parents. At least I recognize them. At least the furniture is familiar. My mom and dad will talk to me.

I walk over to the swings and sit down. I let out a sigh and watch the other kids run around like they’ve been waiting to do it all day and now they’re finally free. It’s loud and annoying, but I’m pretty sure we only have a few minutes of recess left, so I’m just going to sit here and wait. The swings are right in front of the door we’re going to have to go back into, so I’ll be first in line.

As I wait to hear the bell, out of the corner of my eye, I see a boy running from girl to girl. Every girl he’s around lets out a scream, and then he runs to the next girl. He’s a chubby kid with red hair, wearing blue jeans and a green military jacket like the ones my dad used to wear before they switched them. I scrunch my forehead as I watch this kid run over to another girl and smack her on the butt. The girl screams, and the chubby boys runs to another girl and pulls her hair. He’s just going around tormenting every girl he sees, and I don’t see any teachers around to stop him.

Eventually, the chubby kid sees me. I suddenly feel anxious as he runs in my direction, but my dad taught me to never let a boy touch me in any way I didn’t like. So, when the kid reaches me, I have no plans of letting him get away with smacking me on the butt. I press myself into the seat of the swing so he doesn’t even have a chance.

I don’t recognize this kid from my class, but I probably wouldn’t even if he was my classmate. He stands there for a moment, looking at me with a strange grin, then he walks behind me and tries to smack my back, but I jump up before he can. He tries to run around me again, but I turn around and make sure we stay face to face.

“Stop it,” I say to him, which seems to irritate him.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he responds, before he steps closer to me and tries to pull my hair.

I reach up and smack him on the arm, knocking his hand away. From the sound of the impact and the look on his face, I know it hurt. I may have done it a little harder than I meant to, but I can tell he doesn’t care. He looks angry now.

“That hurt!” he yells, just before he reaches for my hair again.

I turn around and try to walk away from him, but the next thing I know, I’m shoved in the back. I fall forward and land face down in the sand under the swing. When I try to get up, I feel something on my back, then I feel his hands on the back of my head. The chubby boy is sitting on me and pushing my face into the sand.

“Stop it!” I scream, as tears sting my eyes. The pain of my cheek grinding into the sand is too much to take. “Please stop!”

“Shut up,” he responds.

I try to lift my head, but he pushes it back down and now my nose is in the sand and I can’t breathe. I try to scream, but I can’t even open my mouth. I try to breathe, but I snort sand instead. I feel panicked, and I’m terrified, but only for a second.

Suddenly, the weight on my head and back is lifted off me. I hear the
thud
of a person hitting the ground, followed by a yelp of pain. When I raise my head, I see the chubby boy on the ground looking up at someone standing over him. He has his back to me, but I can tell he’s bigger than the chubby boy. He’s wearing black pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt, and he has short black hair. The chubby kid looks up at him like he’s scared to death, and he doesn’t say a word as the kid turns around to face me.

When he looks down at me, he has a scowl on his face that frightens me. He has blue eyes and lips that look too big for his face. Something about him reminds me of an evil villain I’d see in a movie—he’s the guy beating the crap out of the hero.

“Are you okay?” he says. His voice is deeper than every other boy’s voice I’ve ever heard.

“Umm,” I begin, but the chubby kid steals my attention when he gets up and walks towards me.

“She hit me first, so I’m allowed to hit her back. So, move, Ugly Dominic,” the chubby kid says with a chuckle.

It all happens so fast after that.

The big kid snaps around and punches the chubby one in the face. Chubby stumbles backwards, but the big one grabs him by his shirt and throws him on the ground right in front of me. Sand goes flying everywhere as the big kid jumps on top of the chubby one and punches him in the face again, just before grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head over so that he’s looking at me.

“Apologize,” the big kid says, calmly. “Look at her and tell you’re sorry. Now.”

The chubby kid looks up at me as blood streams from his nose and tears fall from his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says, just before he loses it and starts bawling like a baby as he cover his nose with both hands.

I don’t even know what to say. I look at him for a second, then I look up at the other kid. At first, I was terrified of him, but now I’m not sure what to be.

The big kid lets the chubby one go, then helps me up off the ground. As I stand, he reaches down and starts knocking sand off my clothes while I struggle to get it off my face and out of my hair. The two of us walk away from the crowd of kids who are gathering to look down at the boy on the ground bleeding and crying.

“He won’t mess with you, anymore,” the kid says. He looks at me with an expressionless face, and my heart pounds with anxiety.

“Thank you,” I reply, nervously.

“You’re new here, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My name’s Dominic,” he greets, but he doesn’t smile so it’s not very comforting.

“I’m Alannah,” I reply, just as the door behind me swings open and three teachers come out. The two women go tend to the crying boy who’s still on the ground, but Mr. Bishop comes trotting up to us.

“Dominic, can I talk to you for a minute?” he says. He doesn’t look happy. “I was told you beat up Billy Hannigan. Punched him in the face and threw him on the ground. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” is all Dominic says in response.

“Why’d you do that, Dominic?”

“He was trying to bully Alannah.” He says it like he’s not even concerned with getting in trouble.

“He bullied Alannah, so you bullied him? Is that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s what he gets for putting his hands on the girls.”

“Well, that’s not how we do things, Mr. Collazo. Violence is not how you solve your problems. I’m going to need you to come with me to the principal’s office.”

Dominic shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he starts to follow Mr. Bishop towards the school. Before he steps inside, he turns around.

“Bye, Alannah” he says, then he smiles for the first time. Why would he smile when he knows he’s about to be in trouble with the principal?

I feel tingly all over as I smile back at him, but before I can say bye, he’s already inside.

For the rest of the day, I don’t speak to anyone except Mr. Bishop.

The only kid I speak to my entire first day of school is Dominic Collazo.

Dominic Collazo

“I
got suspended yesterday.”

My father, Donnie, puts his Cadillac in park and stares straight ahead. He lets out a sigh of frustration before he turns to me. He’s completely clean shaven with blue eyes that are enhanced by his thick glasses. His black hair is slick and the scars on his left cheek remind me of how hard a life he’s had. I’m proud he made it through it all. He’s one hundred percent Italian, thirty-five years old, and doesn’t take any crap from anybody. He’s my idol.

“What’d you do?” he asks, glancing towards the windshield at the packed parking lot in front of us.

“I punched Billy in the face. He was being a jerk.”

“A jerk, huh? What was he doing?”

“He was running around putting his hands on all the girls. Smacking them on the butt and stuff. He even tried to shove this new girl’s face in the sand. He wouldn’t let her up so I took care of it.”

I see a smile stretch across my dad’s face.

“Good. He deserved it, right?” he says, grinning.

“Yeah, he did.”

“And you did what you felt you had to do, right? You handled it?”

“I did.”

“Good boy. It’s unfortunate, but that’s what you have to do sometimes. I know you’re only eleven, but sometimes kids your age are assholes and need to be dealt with. I’m proud of you. I bet your mother was pissed, wasn’t she?”

I chuckle to myself, remembering how mad my mother, Gloria, got when the principal called her and told her to come get me. She doesn’t like having to leave work to come deal with the school, and she was extra mad because this isn’t the first time she’s had to do it.

“Yeah, she was
really
mad,” I reply.

“I bet she blamed it on me, didn’t she?”

“Kind of. She said some stuff about how I’m growing up to be like you, and it makes her sad. I told her I loved both of you, and that I was sorry about getting suspended. She calmed down after that.”

Dad laughs a little, but stays focused on the parking lot.

“Hey, you did the right thing, Dominic. Okay? No matter what your mother says about it, you did the right thing. A man isn’t supposed to hurt a woman. That’s the rules. If a man hurts a woman, that’s breaking the rules, and breaking the rules is cause for punishment. So, I’m proud of you, son.”

I feel the tingling sensation of pride spread through my body. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Fuhgeddaboutit,” he says, smiling at me.

I know the words are
forget about it
, but the way Dad says them makes me laugh. That’s his Italian roots making their presence known. I don’t know why, but I love it when he says it.

My dad’s eyes snap forward when there’s movement in the parking lot. He leans forward and squints, trying to see who the man is getting out of the black Mercedes that just parked. When he recognizes him, he looks at me, his jaw tight.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t give me time to respond. He gets out and walks across the street like he’s on a mission, his black leather jacket flapping at his sides, and smoke billowing out of his mouth from the cold. The man he approaches is also wearing a black leather jacket, but he has a thick beard that matches it. That’s all I can make out from here.

All I can see now is the two of them talking. My dad is gesturing as he talks, and I know that’s a sign he’s not happy about something. The other guy looks afraid, but he’s standing his ground. He hands my dad an envelope, which my father calmly takes.

Then, everything changes.

Suddenly, my dad punches the guy in the face. He stumbles backwards, clutching his mouth while Dad pulls a gun out of the back of his pants. My heart quickens as I watch my dad point the gun at the man’s face. The guy puts his hands up like he’s being arrested, then Dad hits him the face with the gun and he falls to the ground. Dad leans over the man’s crumbled body and aims the gun at him again as he yells at the guy. Then, he reaches back and slams the gun into the man’s face two more times, before finally walking away. My dad walks quickly towards the car as the guy behind him lies lifelessly on the ground, and he stuffs the thick envelope into the inner pocket of his jacket.

I’m not sure what I feel as my dad approaches. Part of me is scared. Part of me is proud of him. My nerves are on high alert and I feel excited with fear. I’m not surprised by what just happened because it’s not the first time I’ve seen my dad involved in something like this. Like I said before, my dad doesn’t take crap from anybody, and I like that.