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If I believed in romance like Tessa, he would be my leading man. No question.

“Now, how do I turn this off again?” Dad says, and when I turn around, I’m blinded. The flashlight on his phone is somehow always turned on, except when he actually needs a flashlight.

“Oh, I’ll fix it,” Mom says, grabbing it from him. “Honestly, Ed, you’re such an old man sometimes.”

I turn back to look for my dream guy, but he’s gone. Of course he’s gone. So much for that.

In his place is a woman loudly directing a photo shoot of her family in front of the fountain. “No, not that face! Make your cute face, Rebecca! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Laugh! Do a fake laugh!” She crouches down, wiping the sweat under her wraparound sunglasses with the back of her hand. “That is not the cute face!”

She has Big Karen Energy, like she has all the world’s managers on speed dial. And all of her family are wearing bright orange shirts that read “The Arnold Family Italian Adventure.” All of them—her husband, two sons, Rebecca with the not-cute face, and Grandma, who’s looking like she’s on the verge of heatstroke. Bright orange, I guess, in case they lose each other? But Karen’s not letting any of those kids get lost, as much as they may want to.

“See, we need to get shirts like that!” Dad says, pointing at them. “To commemorate this trip!”

“Negative,” Etta says.

“What you talking about, negative?” Dad says. “They’re cool!”

“Okay, bye, I’m going to get closer to the fountain.” I fight my way to the front of the crowd, inhaling an unpleasant mix of sunscreen and BO as I maneuver between people. I only get one “Hey!” but I avoid eye contact, and soon I’m standing right on the edge. The water is a bright turquoise, like the water at Disneyland, and there are tall white columns, and statues of people that Etta explained in detail but I forgot, hanging out on top of some rocks. It’s pretty, I guess. But it doesn’t lookmagical. I wonder how this coin thing started in the first place. Like, is the Trevi family out here every night collecting a fortune and laughing at all the gullible tourists?

I take a picture to send to Tessa. But then I realize it won’t go through, because my parents gave me a firm “absolutely not” when I asked for the ten-dollar international day pass from our phone provider, insisting I needed to focus on my big decision. I take another one with my camera, leaning in close to capture all the change under the water.

Well, I guess I better get this over with. I dig in my purse for a euro, but someone bumps into me, knocking my arm.

“Excuse me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I grunt, but when I look up, the Italian guy who just invaded my personal space isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at the skinny blond girl standing next to me, who was sitting on the edge of the fountain while her girl took approximately ten million pics of her staring off into the distance.

“Excuse me, bella, you dropped your cell phone!”

“Oh my god, thank you! Thank you!” she says, clutching her hands to her chest. “I didn’t even notice. Oh my god!”

“It’s no problem,” he says, looking down at the phone like he’s considering something suddenly, but I recognize the game. “Maybe you would like me to put my number in before I return it to you? I can show you and your friends around the Eternal City.”

Oh lord. So it really does happen. These white girls just be walking around, being clumsy and irresponsible, and then, oops, they’re suddenly racing around Rome on the back of their new boyfriend Lorenzo’s moped.

Damn.

I return to the task at hand. Throwing my money away for a chance at what that lady just got, no biggie, free of charge. Right. I finally find a euro and toss it into the fountain. And then I just stand there. That wasn’t it, was it? Was there something else I was supposed to do, like a chant or something?

Oh, wait! I was supposed to throw two coins. Tessa was very clear about that.

I dig around in my purse some more, but I don’t have any more coins, only paper bills. I used the last of my euros on a glass-bottle Coke while I waited for Etta to finish asking our tour guide follow-up questions at St. Peter’s.

Of course. Isn’t that just like me. Unprepared, like my parents think. Too much and not enough at the same time.

And, goddamnit, one coin means I’m going to return to Rome!

But I don’t want to return to Rome!

Not to be all ungrateful and irritating like Wally, but you know, as my thigh sweat gets dangerously close to soaking clear through these shorts, I can only think about going somewhere cold. Like Antarctica. Or my godmama Arlene’s refrigerator. I’m not bougie.

“Oh honey, you’re only going to throw one?” I turn and Karen is standing next to me, her bright orange squad nowhere in sight.

“I’m out of money.” I shrug, turning to leave, but she makes this little squeak noise.

“Oh, no, no, no. We can’t have that!” She starts digging around in the bag strapped tightly across her chest, and I throw my hands up in protest.

“No, it’s okay. Really.” The absolute last thing I want in the universe is charity from this lady.