Contemporary Milan, Italy.
In the dazzling world of Vincitore Academy, Margherita, a half-Korean firebrand from humble beginnings, ignites a clash of wills with the P2, the city's elite quartet of dazzling and infuriatingly entitled boys.
Yet, privi...
Mauro was becoming paranoid, his own trauma showing. "Marghe, you should apologize to Vincitore before things escalate."
They were sitting on the bench by the abused garbage can, which somehow had become a favorite spot, maybe because it was the first spot where Mauro had opened up to her.
Marghe ate a cracker. "Not even at gunpoint. Plus you heard what he thinks about apologies." She offered him the open packet.
Mauro took a cracker. "They won't stop until—" A barrage of eggs hit them out of nowhere—or rather, out of the shrubs right in front of them, but Margherita and Mauro, panicking, couldn't tell. Eggs hurt more than one would think, not to mention both of them were now covered in slime.
Margherita took a deep breath, eyes closed, wiping eggs off her hair and face. "Maybe you shouldn't hang out with me anymore."
Mauro smiled behind the goop, the grin reaching the depth of his hazel eyes. "Marghe, I literally would not be here—as in, on the planet—if it wasn't for you. There's no other place I'd rather be."
She smiled at him; at least she'd made a friend. Mauro would be a perfect match for her best friend, Chiara. She wanted to introduce them ASAP. "I was going to the pool anyway. Wanna come along and wash up?"
"With you?" He teased. When she rolled her eyes, Mauro shook his head. "I have a shift at the cafe in an hour. I'd better stop home to get clean clothes." The cafe Mauro worked at wasn't too far from Happy Pizza.
Marghe grinned at him. "My mom is Korean, and she does this thing I love when things get tough." She squeezed an uppercut in front of her face and declared in English, "Fighting!"
Mauro laughed and mimicked her. "Fighting!"
They would not go down easy.
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Minutes later, when Margherita entered the main building, a well-timed release of flour from a window above her completed the prank, followed by fading laughter. The flour stuck to the eggs, so that she was a complete mess. She rolled her eyes and went down the hallway and through the pool's main doors, aiming for the locker room.
Unfortunately, Tristante was leaving.
"Do you swim?" she asked, embarrassed at her own state. This was the second time she'd run into him at the pool.
"As if. This is—was my nap room." He seemed annoyed. The pool was also right beside the concert hall, where he regularly practiced violin.
Tristante absorbed the pitiful state Margherita was in, covered in flour, dripping globs of egg whites. He was sullen on an average day, but the pettiness students could resort to out of boredom disgruntled him to a new level. He took out a white bandana from his pocket and wiped flour out of her eyes.
Margherita's heart lurched. "I'm fine."
She stepped away, which surprised him. Girls did not step away from him, normally he had to keep them away with a stick. This was an odd duck, through and through.
