We were all having breakfast in the dining room. It was loud and boisterous as any assembly of our family was. I was telling Kiara about the new piece I wanted her to compose for my solo routine coming up. Roman was sitting next to me at the table, looking up at me with those big puppy dog eyes. "Fine, one more." I said resigned, adding another pancake onto his plate, which he vacuumed up immediately. "You're gonna make the kid fat if you keep feeding him like that." I ignored Alessio's comment and instead told Roman, "Alessio feels insecure about his weight so now he feels he needs to project his insecurities onto others." Alessio scoffed at that. Maybe that was a little insensitive of me. Alessio was a very skinny baby, but then he doubled his weight three times. He did love to eat as a kid. I kept seeking sneaky glances at mom and dad, which were met with unimpressed glares. It was nearing the deadline of me accepting a place into the American Ballet Institute. Soon my waiting would be over and I'd either be devastated or ecstatic. Massimo sauntered into the dinning room, pointedly looking at my outfit. "What are you wearing?" I looked up, "oh, I found this at the corner thrift shop! I'm pretty sure it's Chanel, like couture Chanel..." The emphasis didn't have the desired effect. He didn't seem impressed by French craftsmanship. Martha and I went to the local thrift store yesterday. It was located next to several affluent neighbourhoods so I could always find some designer labels. In addition, all the proceeds went to a local animal shelter. So it was a win-win, beautiful clothing and happy puppies, what else could a girl ask for? Matt, of course, accompanied us as well. I always tried to persuade him to buy something and kept picking things from the racks for him to try on but he just abruptly decline each one. "You know, I think you were a bit too sheltered growing up. You would totally get beat up at school for wearing that." I frowned, "it's called expression of self.'' Nevio was trying to hide his laugh behind his cereal. Massimo didn't know what he was talking about, aside from the fact he was colorblind to any style of clothing that wasn't black. The blouse was gorgeous with a delicate embroidery of several layers of pink flowers and billowy sleeves. I was really proud of my find and even more excited to wear it today. The girls at ballet would love it. "It looks beautiful Greta, it matches your complexion perfectly don't listen to them." Mom said. Dad scowled over our conversation, "if anybody makes fun of your shirt, Greta, you tell me." That definitely wasn't happening. I tried to avoid conflict at all cost and inviting my family's attention anywhere, was inviting conflict.
When me and Nevio were little and bound to be with each other every second, we'd get kicked out of every school in a thirty miles radius. Including homeschooling tutors, which I never knew was possible. When I say we, I do mean Nevio, I was a good accomplice though. Finally, Nevio settled down in our sophomore year of high school, funnily enough that was also when he stopped going to school. I went to the same private school that Aurora and Massimo went to. I didn't particularly like school but they helped cater to my time consuming ballet training, allowing me to work remotely as well. I learned by movement and expression, not crammed into a classroom for the day. When I was in second grade and kept tapping my foot, Mrs. Miller said I had ADHD not a talent. Nobody really bothered me at school, I didn't care for the football games or proms. Martha loved all that, she was even prom queen. I respected that but I wasn't going to waste my time on things I knew weren't for me. I loved ballet and that's where my main focus was. I'd rather be great at something I loved rather than mediocre in things that didn't interest me. It wasn't like I had pressing parents either and I was grateful for that. Dad just told me I had to graduate, another requirement in the ever increasing demands I had to adhere to. I graciously complied with every one of them though, just to be considered for New York. So much was going into this dream. After all this I had to be able to go to New York. Right? They wouldn't be so cruel to pull it away at the last second?
Martha kept fawning over my top at school, I smugly wished Massimo was there to see it. Martha and I met in dance class and although she wasn't serious with continuing ballet, we still kept each other going when we were feeling down. We tried to get together every week for a girls night. I wasn't allowed to sleep over but Martha's house fell under a safe zone, a rare gift. She somehow accepted all the weird rules I had around me, like the fact she could never come over to my house or I had to have a chaperone to the littlest things. She would eye me weirdly sometimes but she also knew me and knew when I was ready to tell her something I would. It was hard to find people to put up with all the little nuances surrounding my life. Soon she would be leaving to go to school in Minnesota. Anywhere near Chicago was definitely no go territory for me, so we were already planning to meet up when she came back for breaks. We were walking down the hallway together to class and Martha was complaining about Mr. Scott. "Oh, that reminds me, I have to give Camilla the notes for our presentation!" It was a group project but we both forgot about it, I quickly put something together last night with the "help" of Nevio and Massimo. Consisting of Nevio standing over me and saying something was too far left and Massimo complaining about how the information in my history book was inaccurate. A bunch of help they were. Me and Camilla had a private presentation with our history teacher after class because I hated public speaking. When I was younger I would stutter badly whenever I had to talk in front of strangers or worse a small group. The miraculous thing was with dance I didn't feel the gazes of strangers. When I realized I could communicate through movement I felt free from my fears. "Good luck with that," Martha said, "she's not here today or any other day for that matter. I heard she broke a girls arm this weekend while roller derby racing!" she whispered yelled. "Not to add her family is involved with some pretty sketchy people, I wouldn't go to her house if I were you." I strained my face, Martha was surly talking about the fact Camilla's family was involved with the Camorra. What they were involved in was child's play compared to the mothership of sin I lived in.
I texted Camilla before practice asking if I could drop off the note cards at her house. We definitely weren't getting A's for this project but the goal was to graduate. Vanessa, our teacher for pointe class, had to cut the class short so most of the girls headed home early. I headed to the locker room to get dressed, glancing at my phone as Camilla texted back that it was fine. I glanced back at the time displayed. I had plenty of time to run the cards to Camilla's house... she did live in this neighborhood. I could just run them over to her place really quickly and come back again before Matt knew. I always chose to do things with the least resistance, the simplistic solution. This was a foreign concept to my family who thrived on constant chaos. If things were going too well they needed to stir up trouble. Camillia sent me another text with her home address and I quickly put it in my phone's maps. Camellia's house was only a five minute walk away! That was plenty enough time to make it there and back again. The car ride there would take thirteen minutes, weaving in and out of streets. Also when we got there Matt would have to accompany me inside the house and cause everybody to get awkward. This was the easiest way. My ballet studio was located in an outside area of the city, a hipster area of juice bars, tattoo shops and a small community college around the corner. It was safe here, I didn't need a chaperon. I was capable of handling things myself! I've had severe injuries that seemed like scraped knees by now. If I was going to go to New York I had to build up my self assurance, that was difficult when I had someone trailing me at all times. I had to stand up for myself and not hide behind Matt as I so often did. After my quick pep talk I got dressed, grabbed my school backpack and used the back entrance. Matt would even prefer this! This way he could get home quicker. I continued to tell myself as I weaved through the trail that led to Camellia's street and in no time I was upon her house. So much simpler!
The house was a small, cute bungalow style home. I walked up to the door, a stirring of hesitation came up but I tried to push that down. I knocked on the door and quicker than I'd expected someone flung the door open. The guy looked at me, frowned, then looked behind me and out into the night then disappointedly brought his gaze back to me. "Um, hi, I'm here to see Camilla,'' I smiled but he just stood there scrutinizing me. "For the history project.." I slowly said. He was very Italian looking with dark hair and olive skin, he looked around my age. "Camilla, your friend here!" He yelled through the small hallway then he opened the door so I could come in. He didn't leave the small alcove of the entrance though, still standing there with a smug look on his face. "Are you Camilla's brother?" I asked, trying to fill the silence. "No," was all he replied. Well, ok then. "Do you know where the coat closet is?" I asked, holding onto my cardigan. It wasn't too cold outside but the nights got chilly especially after a sweaty practice. He smiled at that, like his assessment of me was true. "You can put it in there," he nodded to a small closet with coats avalanching out of it. "I'll just put it here," I said, folding it carefully and putting it on the bench. I cleared off my shirt a bit and turned around. He was still leaning against the hallway, his body taking up half the corridor. His smile turned even bigger when he saw my top. Maybe Massimo was right, maybe it was a bit too much for some people? He turned around chuckling to himself and started walking down the hall, "what's your name?" he called back. "Greta Alassandra," I said. I knew he meant my last name but that really wasn't who I was and I'd been using Alessandra as a name for so long now it felt true. It came off so easily I was sure even a lie detector wouldn't pick anything up. He looked concentrated for a second, "I don't know that name." The hall led to a tv room on the side. "Where's the pizza?!" A guy yelled lounging on a sofa that was leaning to one side. I held my breath as the guy walked over and sat on it, I was sure the thing would collapse under his weight. "No pizza, Camilla's friend." I smiled shyly as all eyes turned to me. Camilla was still not here and I looked around a bit panicked hoping she would save me soon. The three guys all kind of looked alike in the way that they could start a boy band. "Say, you don't look like Camilla's friend." One of the guys said. Camilla's style was in semblance of the grim reaper but that didn't mean we couldn't be friends. "I've gone to school with Camilla for three years now, we're friends." The guy looked at me with a disbelieving look and the guy next to him chimed in, "all he's saying is that Camilla usually doesn't bring friends over dressed like cottoncandy cones." "It's couture..." I weakly stated, I was so over this conversation and slowly losing my enthusiasm about this top. I didn't think the day would bring me here. Now I just wanted to go home, get into my robe and watch a movie, not be fashion policed by three greasy haired dudes. An older man rushed out of a door, smiling ear to ear. I could definitely see how people thought Italians were too overbearing. This man must be Camilla's dad, I was good with parents, people my age, not so much. "Ahh, your Camilla's friend, nice to finally meet you! Camilla, your friend is here!" He yelled at the same volume as the other guy. "You can call me Anthony. What is your name again?" I was about to answer but someone beat me to it, "Greta Alessandra," said the guy I still didn't know the name to. I nodded. "Hmmm, I haven't heard of that name but we are so excited to welcome you to our home! Are you hungry?'' Before I could answer he continued talking. "Camilla told me your family is a proud part of the Camorra?" "Well yes, I guess... I don't really get involved with that stuff, nor do I ask." "As a true Italian woman should! But we are proud to be a part of it, yes? This is Carlo, my son and his friends. You already met Nico, he is a newly proud Made Man." He smiled in a suggestive way. I just smiled coyly not knowing what else to do. I was still feeling a bit self conscious about my top. The trio mumbled courteous greetings to me and then returned to screaming at the tv, "Man what is he doing?!" I couldn't see what they were yelling about, Anthony was still very much talking to me. "So are you engaged? Camilla said you were in her class so you are seventeen already?" Please don't suggest that I be set up with one of these guys. No offense to them but I didn't like it when people were obvious about romance. For me love had to be natural and free between two people. I definitely believed in soulmates and only I could know when someone was the right person. I avoided the others hoping they weren't listening. I wished we could have this conversation somewhere further away but I doubted the distance would do much to dampen Anthony's loud voice. "I'm eighteen actually and no I'm not engaged, my family isn't that traditional." Mr. Gallon's face soured to that answer, "well that is ok. You will find a good man one day! Come, come! Let me show you to the kitchen, we are making dinner!'' I did love how encompassing as a family they were, my family would just coldly stare at someone if I invited them into my house, which wasn't even allowed in the first place. Camilla lounged in the window seat of the kitchen texting with her boots up on the small round table. Now seeing her family I had no idea how she managed to get away with half the things she was notoriously rumored to be doing. "Ahh, Camilla here you are. Greta, this is my wife Carla." Carla was over by the stove cooking dinner. "Hello Carla", I said in greeting. Anthony continued to talk to his wife and I took the time to slip away over to Camilla. She looked surprised to see me despite the numerous summons of her name. I gave her the notes for tomorrow and talked about our game plane that consisted of acting like we knew what we were talking about. Just as we were finishing, Carla yelled, "Dinner!" The three guys came bashing through the swinging door like hungry dogs. I flinched a bit at their abrasiveness. Weren't they just ordering pizza? Camilla just smiled at me. She knew who my family was, Nevio was perpetually drawn to trouble so of course the two knew each other. I was relieved she didn't care about that stuff. "Greta, you must join us! It's so nice for you to come to dinner, Camilla has known you so long and you've never come over!" "Oh, I'm sorry I can't stay, I'm in a bit of a hurry actually-" "You must take some food home with you then, do you want extra sauce with it?" I looked at the table that was laid in a smorgasbord of various meats and cheeses, I didn't think there was one thing on the table for me to eat. Except maybe the small garnishes of parsley. "Um, Carla, this looks wonderful but I am vegan." "That is why you are so skinny! You need to eat some meat!" She stated proudly that she'd found what was wrong with me, "Well actually, It's good to have this frame for ballet so my relevés are easier on my toes and lifts are easier for my partner." Anytime I got to talk about ballet I had a big smile on my face, I could go on forever about it. "Ballet! Carlo, look at her posture, you could learn something!" She said to Carlo who was hunched over the table on his phone. "Why don't you come tomorrow for dinner then?" "I can't tomorrow I have training with my family," I said, gladly throwing them under the bus for the ridiculousness they made me be apart of. "What kind of training?" Anthony asked, very much putting his nose in our conversation. "Um... fight training." He gave me an agasted look and Nico laughed a bit. "I know," I said, "my family is very unreasonable and slightly deranged." I loved to keep a low profile but this day just wasn't having it. "I'm not a fighter though, ballet is my true passion." "You're serious about this ballet?" Carla asked. "Yes more than anything, I hope to go to New York with it professionally," that had Anthony choking, "New York? That's Famiglia territory!" "I'm not really involved with that stuff," I said blasé. "And a profession? That takes a lot of time, my, what will your husband think and in New York no less!" I got where Anthony was coming from and he probably cared for his own daughter with this same concern, yet I had to defend this subject my whole life so I wasn't backing down. "Well, he'll just have to deal with it," I said sweetly. That had Anthony doing some kind of prayer while mumbling, "Fighting, no meat, New York!" Maybe I wouldn't be invited back to the Gallone house for being a bad influence on Camilla. But Camilla was just smiling delighted at the spectacle I was making. "Maybe she isn't the best match for Carlo," Anthony whispered to his wife, but whispering for him was like speaking in a normal volume. Oh goodness, I didn't foresee my day coming here. "You know, Nico is moving up the ranks, he is single too!" Well at least I was still good enough for someone in this house. "That's very impressive," I said politely to the fashion snob. Then a little kid that looked like the miniature version of Carlo barged in, he looked like he even had gel in his hair. "Who won the match!" They went on to talk while I checked my time, I had seven minutes to get back to the studio. I started packing up my papers but Nico called me out, "you should ask Greta, kid, she was just training." I looked at him stone faced and he smugly looked delighted about annoying me. "You box?!" The kid asked thrilled, "no, not really, my dad just wants me to know the basics. I'm nowhere near impressive, not because I'm a girl, that is, I know girls that are great boxers, I just don't like it." "My! I'm surprised your father would allow you that! I would hate to train with Camilla." Anthony said. I had a feeling I was going to cause him a heart attack if I didn't keep my mouth shut. "Hey I can throw a punch if I want," Camilla said. "Oh, like Aunt Petrica's punch you threw all over Angina at church last month?" Carlo teased and she stood up, "I'll show you-" Carla grabbed her arm and sat her down, scolding her in Italian. Anthony was oblivious to his family's antics as he continued his assessment of me. "Say what does your family do? I don't recognize Alessandra, are you full Italian?" I paled at that. I didn't like lying and hardly anyone dug deeper than what I provided. People were polite about these matters but leave it to an old Italian man, "yes I'm full Italian, as far as I know." "And full Camorrista?" I stopped a bit at that, this had been a hard topic throughout my younger years, "Um no, my mom's actually from the Outfit." "Ahh that explains it," Anthony said proudly, "I'm surprised Remo Falcone allows your family to be a part of the Camorra though, with such abnormal ways!" "Oh no, it's fine," I tried to pacify. "Are you sure?" Anthony asked. Nico butted in with his own opinion: "Don't worry about it Anthony. Falcones take care of the weeds even if they're dressed like flowers," he said, winking at me. This guy! "I don't know Nico, this just doesn't sit well with me! It's hard to be loyal when your family is in two places, your family doesn't follow traditional rules and I haven't heard your name before... this is very concerning." "Anthony, I assure you it's nothing to worry about." I said again, panicking a bit about the dwindling time. "Have your family asked Remo in specifics to this?" "yes, I have in fact asked him because he is my father," I said. I felt he would keep going if I didn't stop him but now the whole room was in an uncomfortable silence that I hated every time I brought up my family. Except for Camilla who was trying not to laugh. Nico looked a bit pale and I couldn't help a little laugh escape too. "Camilla! You knew we had a Falcone as a guest and you didn't say anything, where are your manners! Do you need us to make you something Greta?" He asked very carefully. "Anthony, truly I'm not involved with that stuff, you don't need to treat me differently. I told you I'm moving to New York, Nevio is taking over not me." "Your the other Falcone twin?!" The kid asked, "yes." I said resigned. "Nah, I heard you moved to Bermuda to marry a secret assassin!" Well that was a new one.
Camilla walked me to the door, thanking me for providing entertainment to the boring night. I had exactly five more minutes left. I walked out into the night but before I reached the sidewalk Nico came running out. "Hey, Greta umm, I'm really sorry for my behavior, I shouldn't have acted the way I did, I-" he went from assertive confidence to a guilty schoolboy, "No Nico, don't apologize. Not for being yourself.'' I said passionately. I didn't know who I was telling this to, Nico or myself. "You don't like my shirt, own it, be real, that's all I ask. Oh and also don't tell anybody I was here, I have to go! It was nice meeting you." I waved to him already running back to the studio. When I got back I slipped into the back door, picked up my gym bag from my locker and walked out the same time I did every Thursday. The black car was waiting as always. I got in as I did so many times, yet this time I felt a shiver of excitement for the small dent I had made in my tightly woven obedience.