Step put on his jacket and left. “Ciao, Pa. See you later tonight maybe.”
Paolo stood there for a second, staring at the now-closed door. His brother always managed to astonish him. Who knew where he was going at this time of the morning? He decided that, when all was said and done, it really was none of his business.
He drank a sip of coffee. Then he turned to eat the slice of pastry that he’d left on the plate in front of him. He realized it was no longer there. It had vanished.
One way or another, you always came up short when you were dealing with Step.
* * *
“Ciao, Papà.” Babi and Daniela got out of the Mercedes, and Claudio watched his daughters head off to school. One last goodbye and he drove off.
Babi took a few more steps. Then she turned around. The Mercedes was far away by now. She galloped down the steps and, just then, crossed paths with Pallina.
“Ciao, where are you running off to?” Pallina asked.
“I’m leaving with Step.”
“Really? Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Around. To start with, we’ll go get breakfast. This morning I was too excited to be able to get anything down. Just think about it. This is the first time I’ve skipped school…”
Pallina smiled at her. “I was excited my first time too. But at this point, I can sign my mother’s signature better than she can!”
Babi laughed.
Step’s motorcycle roared to a halt right in front of them on the sidewalk. “Shall we go?”
Babi looked at that smile, those eyes, those broad shoulders. Only then did she realize how badly she’d wanted to see him. She gave Pallina a hasty kiss goodbye and climbed up behind him, thrilled and excited. Her heart was racing at two thousand kilometers per hour.
“Take my advice, Pallina. Do your best not to flunk, and take notes on who gets tested.”
“Okay, boss!”
“And keep quiet about this, okay? Not a word to anyone.”
Pallina nodded in silence and smiled.
Babi looked around, worried that someone might happen to see. Then she wrapped her arms tight around Step. By this point, she’d done it.
The motorcycle shot forward, taking her far away from school, from boring hours in the classroom, from Signora Giacci, from her classwork and the sound of the bell, that sound that sometimes seemed never to arrive.
Pallina enviously watched her friend as she vanished into the distance. She was happy for her. She said hello to a few other classmates and started climbing the steps, chatting away without realizing that someone was watching her. High above, a hand, beautified by an old ring with a violet stone at the center, as hard as the woman who owned it, let a curtain slide back into place. Someone had seen everything.
* * *
In Classroom 3B, all the girls were worried. The first period was Italian, and the teacher, Signora Giacci, was going to be testing them. This was definitely one of the subjects that would be on their final exam of high school.
The students sat down at their desks, exchanging hellos. One last young woman entered in haste. As usual, she was late. The girls chatted nervously. Suddenly there was an obsequious silence. Signora Giacci was at the door. They all snapped to attention.
Signora Giacci surveyed the class. “Be seated, girls.”
She was strangely cheerful this morning. That didn’t promise anything good in store. As she read the roll call, various girls raised their hands, replying with a respectful “Present.” One young woman, whose last name started with C, was absent. At F, another young woman, hoping to distinguish herself, let go with a disrespectful “Here.” She was promptly scolded by Signora Giacci, who mocked her in front of the rest of the class. As usual, Catinelli made a show of appreciating the teacher’s subtle sense of humor. So subtle that it completely eluded the notice of almost everyone else.
“Gervasi?”
“She’s absent today,” someone replied from the back of the class. Signora Giacci put an A next to Babi’s name in the ledger. Then she slowly looked up. Her desk was empty.
She turned her gaze slightly to the right. “Lombardi.”
Pallina, who was distracted, leaped to her feet. “Yes, teacher?”
“Why didn’t Gervasi come to school today?”
Pallina was slightly nervous. “Oh, uh, I really don’t know. I talked to her last night on the telephone, and she told me that she wasn’t feeling great. Maybe she felt worse this morning and decided not to come to school.”
Signora Giacci looked at her. Pallina shrugged her shoulders. Signora Giacci narrowed her eyes until they were two impenetrable fissures. Pallina felt a shiver run down her back.
“Thanks, Lombardi. Please be seated.” Signora Giacci continued calling roll: “Ilari…”
“Present.” A young woman at one of the desks in front raised her hand.
Signora Giacci put a P next to her name. Then she looked up. Her gaze met Pallina’s. A mocking smile appeared on the teacher’s face. Pallina turned red. She looked away, embarrassed. Could her teacher know something? On her desk was the phrase that she herself had carved into the surface with a pen: Pallina and Pollo forever. She smiled. No, that was impossible.
“Marini.”
“Present!”
The teacher had gone back to calling the roll, so Pallina relaxed. She wondered where Babi was at that very moment. They’d definitely already eaten breakfast. Perhaps a nice maritozzo pastry with whipped cream at Euclide, along with one of those cappuccinos that were all foam. She wished with all her heart that she could take Babi’s place, but with Pollo instead of Step.
Signora Giacci shut the ledger and started lecturing. She laid out her lesson with joy and seemed particularly relaxed. As she strolled along between the desks, a ray of sunlight struck her hands. Illuminating the finger she was toying with, an antique ring glowed with a violet light.
* * *
From the noises of the city, just awakened, Babi and Step rode away, their lips faintly smeared with the foam of an unsweetened cappuccino and their mouths sweetened with the whipped cream of a pastry. It was easy to predict that their path had led them to the big Euclide on the Via Flaminia, farther away and more discreet, where it was less likely that they’d run into familiar faces. Then, minutes later, up the ramp and down to the right, in front of that tire repair place and then a sharp left at that green public drinking fountain, along that narrow street with the speed bumps, the cows on the right, and the bus stop on the left.
They continued on toward the tower. Enveloped in sunshine all around them, meadows, tinged in faint green, stretched out gently rolling between the edges of darker woods. They left the road. The motorcycle moved along, bending the tall, golden stalks of wheat that stood up again immediately after its passage, unfazed and bold. All around a warm wind wafted gently over the field of wheat like the hand of a delicate pianist.
The faint wake in the field of wheat slowly vanished behind them. The motorcycle was parked there, beyond the hill, a short way from the tower. Off to the right, farther down, a good-tempered dog was sleepily keeping an eye on several mangy-looking sheep. A shepherd in jeans was listening to a small beat-up radio while smoking a joint, light-years away from his comrades in the standard manger scene.