High School Psychic

Ice Cream and Italians

..."Fudge you," she said, except she didn't say 'fudge.' She flipped all of them the bird, then turned and pulled me and the boy out of that horrible party....(continue :P)

Claire led me through the party, which seemed to be getting louder and louder by the minute. I couldn't distinguish between voices and thoughts, and that freaked me out a little bit. I just wanted to get out of here.

We finally made it into Molly's front yard, which had been more or less destroyed. Half-empty cups of beer lay in crumpled heaps everywhere. There was toilet paper on all of Molly's bushes, and random pieces of clothing lay on the lawn.

We ignored it all as we went back to Claire's car.

I managed to hold myself together until her car door closed. Then, literally the second the lock clicked, I burst into tears.

I'm not talking about sniffly little crying. Nope. I'm talking about huge, gasping sobs and runny noses and blubbering. The whole enchilada.

"I'm...sorry..." I managed to gasp out through my tears. I tried in vain to stop my sobs. I hated crying. Hated letting everyone know how sad and angry and completely mortified I was. Plus, there was someone I didn't know in the car with us. I was probably totally freaking out Claire's guy friend.

For some reason, the thought made me sob even harder. Claire reached over and enveloped me in a big bear hug.

"Shh..." she soothed. "I know, Jase. You really liked him. It was your first party. Shh, honey, I know."

I finally stopped trying to stop the tears and just let myself cry. It felt good to just let it all out. I don't know how long I cried. I didn't really care. It seemed like a really long time, though.

A while later, my sobs started to subside, and I let go of Claire. Sniffling and rubbing my eyes, I sat up and took a deep breath.

"Sorry about that," I said shakily, still trying to catch my breath.

Claire patted my hand. "Don't worry about it, Jase. He was a total jerkface to you, and you needed a while to cry. Everyone does sometimes."

I managed a watery smile. "Thanks," I said. Then, I motioned to the guy in the back seat. "I probably chased away your boyfriend though."

For a second, Claire looked at me. Then, she smiled.

"You don't remember, do you?" she asked.

"Remember what?" I said, obviously not remembering.

"This is Francesco. You know, the guy who stayed with my family for a few weeks last summer while his parents were gone," Claire replied.

"Oh, yeah." That's why he looked familiar. I was away on trips most of the summer, but I vaguely remembered a tall, olive-skinned, brown-eyed boy who was at Claire's house the couple times I visited.

"Wait, isn't he like, Italian?"I asked Claire.

I turned to Francesco. "Aren't you Italian?" I asked.

"Yes, I am," Francesco said in lightly accented English. "My nonna, my grandmother, she knew Claire's family from way back. When my mother and father left, my nonna talked to Claire's parents, and they let her send me over to America to live with them."

"Oh," I said. When Francesco had mentioned his mother and father, his thoughts had changed in emotion, and though his voice didn't reveal anything, the sense of anger, betrayal, and loss had been clear in his mind. I mulled it over for a minute, wondering what could have happened to him and his family.