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“Do I have to?”
“In America, yes. You must go to school.”
I sighed, munched my toast and pretended I wasn’t intimidated. I stared down the face of death, escaped its clutches unscathed but the thought of going to the fifth grade in a public school in New York had me petrified.
Since my accent was heavy and my English poor, Zio thought it best to enroll me a year behind for my age. He took me shopping and I was excited to buy jeans and sneakers. Papa always made me wear dresses and fancy shoes that pinched my feet.
He sipped his espresso, eyeing me over the rim. “Look them in the eye. Don’t let them see your fear. They will be looking for it.”
“Who? The fifth-graders or the Salvatore’s?”
He smiled faintly. “To conquer one, you must conquer the other first.”
“Well, I already conquered Roque Salvatore. These bullies don’t stand a chance.”
“No, they don’t. I’ll pick you up from school. Your training starts today.”
“Martial arts?”
“Fencing. You’re small for your age and much younger than your foe. You must use every weapon you can to your advantage.”
“Like the goddess, Diana. She used bows and arrows.”
“You will, too. All in good time.”
I picked up my backpack and put on a thick puffy coat. I was already feeling much better about my day. I just had to get through school first. Zio walked me the five city blocks over to the school. I stopped, letting the tip of my nose touch against the chain metal fence. Boys inside the concrete school yard were playing some weird game inside a hexagon using a bouncing ball.
“It’s called Ga-ga. You’ll learn. It’s good for your reflexes.”
A few girls jumping rope caught my eye. Hope fluttered through me. I’d never had any real friends. People at my old school either sucked up to me because I was a Fiorelli or feared me because I was one. I couldn’t win. But now I was Diana Palermo, a girl with no past and with a future I could paint any color I wanted.
“Come on, I’ll walk you in.”
“No. I can take it from here.” I lifted my chin high; stared down every curious gaze, and marched right into that building.
“Diana Palermo.” The name dropped from my lips heavy with my accent, but it was spoken like a dare. The secretary nodded her head so hard the glasses perched on the tip of her nose wobbled.
She spoke English so fast I couldn’t understand one word. I thought Italians spoke fast, but she had my nationality beat. She shuffled a pile of papers, found the one she was searching for and motioned me to follow her out and down the hall.
She walked into an empty classroom and handed the sheet of paper to the teacher writing on the blackboard with chalk. Much to my delight the teacher turned and smiled with her eyes.
“Diana!Benvenuto!Welcome!”
My shoulders sagged with relief. She spoke Italian. Her accent was off, but I understood her and she, me.
She told me to take a seat in the first row. I thought school was going to be okay. But that quickly changed shortly after the bell rang and the class filed in. She turned her back to finish writing on the board and that’s when the first spitball landed in the back of my hair.
Eyes narrowed, I turned to face the sea of smirks behind me. My fingers felt around in my hair for the wadded-up paper and flicked it to the floor. I wiped my hands on my jeans just as another one hit.
These kids were idiots. The worst things they’ve seen on a TV I’d actually witnessed first-hand. I was hoping to make friends. But I guess it was to be war. Little could they know—war is all I’ve ever known.
It was going to be a slaughter.
I chewed the end of my pencil and plotted. I knew it was the big kid in the back with the spiked-up hair and attitude I could smell in the front row. He was going down. I wondered how many boys would fall before I toppled the ultimate prize. They’d all be practice for the main event. But I’d still savor each victory.
I stayed still not even bothering to collect the gathering ickiness sticking in the back of my hair. I held my head high and did my work. Recess was coming soon. I’d show these boys that there’s a new boss in town, starting with a swift kick in the nuts and if that wasn’t enough, I’d practice my right-hook. The one Zio’s been teaching me.