What Kills Me

  “Cute.”

  “Whenever we go out, the mother bird dives at you. They fly very low and in front of you to scare you away. Daddy was sitting by our pond, feeding the fish and one came and touched the back of Daddy’s head.”

  “That’s crazy. Mom must be freaking out.”

  “Mommy’s outside right now gardening with a tennis racket.”

  I pictured my mother outside in her floppy straw hat, twirling around, wielding the tennis racket like a giant fly swatter and I burst into laughter.

  “I told her not to hit them,” my father said. “They’re just protecting their babies.”

  “Dad, Sofia instituted a curfew of nine o’clock.”

  “Well, you know, maybe she’s more conservative. She’s just concerned about you. Especially with single, young girls, you don’t want them to stay out late.”

  I decided then not to tell him about getting lost.

  “I understand, but nine is really early,” I said.

  “You should respect Sofia’s wishes. She is taking care of you.”

  “I guess,” I said. “Hey Dad, can I call you tomorrow? Ryka’s online.”

  “Okay, talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Bye Dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I wrote Ryka an instant message: “U there?”

  “Just woke up.”

  “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I met a boy.”

  “TELL ME.”

  “Calling you on Skype. Turn your camera on.”

  When Ryka appeared on my screen, I said, “Nice hair.” Her short hair stood up in two puffs like cat ears.

  “Shut up. We all don’t have Italian stallions to impress, okay?”

  “Ry, I met the cutest guy and I’m never going to see him again.”

  “What? So dramatic! What happened?”

  “I went for a walk last night and because I’m an idiot, I didn’t have a map and I got lost. So, I’m wandering around Rome, trying to find Sofia’s house and I turn around and there’s this beautiful guy standing there.”

  “How beautiful?”

  “Like dark-haired, blue-eyed, ten times prettier-than-me beautiful.”

  “Shut up,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “At first, I thought he wanted to rob me. But then he helped me back to Sofia’s house and asked me to meet him tonight.”

  “Look at you, Miss Zee!”

  “Wait, you forgot the rest of it. I can’t meet him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Sofia imposed a curfew on us. It becomes a prison at nine.”

  “No. Can you sneak out?” she asked with a wink.

  “Very funny Ry. I can’t risk getting caught and getting kicked out.”

  “Zee, why would the universe introduce you to the most beautiful guy in Italy only to have you never see him again?”

  “Because the universe likes to torture me?”

  “Come on. You’re in Rome. Live a little!”

  “I know but…”

  “But what? You’re just going to leave him hanging?”

  “Oh, Ry. He probably won’t show up anyway.”

  “He will. And then his feelings will be hurt.”

  She knew how to guilt me into action. After I hung up, I came up with a compromise. Before I lost my nerve, I wrote a note:

  Dear Paolo,

  It was so nice to meet you yesterday. Thank you for helping me home. I really wanted to hang out tonight but my homestay family surprised me with a curfew of 9 p.m. I’m so sorry. Please let me make it up to you with twice as much gelato. Are you free Monday afternoon? Please meet me at the pizzeria at 3:30 p.m. Also, here’s my e-mail address and number.

  Later that afternoon, I gave the waiter at the pizzeria a description of Paolo (“Dark hair, blue eyes, bellissimo,”) and the letter, and ran home.

  What if he gets annoyed and decides that he doesn’t want anything to do with me? Well, he would be missing out.

  Shortly after 9 p.m., I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling fan and listening to its hypnotic whir. I imagined Paolo’s crooked smile. I imagined the husky way he would say my name. Zee.

  I sat up. I heard my name.

  “Did you hear something?” I asked Miyuki. She shook her head. But then we both heard a voice from outside. I walked over to the window, pushed open the green shutters, and looked down.

  Paolo smiled at me from the middle of the street.

  Chapter 3

  My memory had not done him justice. He wore the same coat but he had spiked his short, dark hair. His half-smile was so sexy.

  “What are you doing here?” I said, grinning.

  “I came to see you,” he said. He held my note between his index and middle fingers. “I got your letter.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just found out about the curfew. It’s so ridiculous.”

  Miyuki came toward me with her head cocked to the side. “It’s him,” I whispered. I felt giddy. Her mouth made a small O and she poked her head out the window. Paolo waved.

  “He is cute,” she whispered to me.

  “So, are you free tomorrow?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Oh,” I said, the smile fading from my face.

  “But I am free now.”

  “I can’t leave the house.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “No, you don’t understand. My hosts aren’t letting me out.”

  “How will they know that you are gone?”

  “Well, they’ll see me walk out the front door.”

  “But you can come through the window.”

  I laughed. “That’s true but my arms are a little tired from flying out the window earlier today.”

  He didn’t laugh. “Who said anything about flying?”

  He pointed in front of him so I leaned further out the window and looked down. Someone had parked a white van below my second-story window.

  “I will help you down. We will go for gelato, take a beautiful stroll, and I will have you safe at home in an hour.”

  An hour. Sofia and Giuseppe would be fast asleep by then and I could sneak back through the front door.

  This is crazy.

  I couldn’t climb out my window like a ninja. I’d fall, or I’d get caught.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “Please?”

  I glanced at Miyuki. Her eyebrows were furrowed. I could stay here with Miyuki and study. Or I could climb out the window and live a little. I could chase the adventure that I had traveled across an ocean for. I looked back at Paolo, who was grinning. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a what appeared to be a clump of tissue. He opened his palm. It was a white rose. He opened his arms to me. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe I was about to surrender.

  “How can I say no?” I said. “Hang on a sec.”

  I got ready in an elated flurry. I tore off my pajamas, changed into a white eyelet sundress, and wiggled my feet into red ballet flats. I slung a small, burgundy-suede satchel across my chest and jammed my keys and Sofia’s address into the front pocket. Miyuki watched me with wide eyes but she didn’t say anything.

  I returned to the window and scanned the dark street for Paolo. I heard my name and saw him standing behind the van. He put one foot on the bumper, one hand on the roof, and in one motion hopped onto the vehicle. He dropped the rose and stretched his arms toward me.

  “How am I going to do this?” I muttered. “Miyuki, if I fall on my head, please tell my family that I loved them. And please go ahead and take that fanny pack in my closet that you keep eyeing.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  I put my feet through the window so I was sitting on the sill. Miyuki grabbed my arm as I turned and struggled onto my stomach. The sill dug into my gut. This is a disaster. I had my butt in his face and my skirt was riding up. Why did I wear a dress to climb out a window? Groaning, I shifted myself so that I was propped up by my elbows. What n
ow?

  I felt Paolo grip my hips and lift me from the window. I grabbed his hands. He lowered me gently, my back to his chest, my ear against his mouth. “There you go,” he whispered. “Safe and sound.” He let me go and when I turned around, he had already jumped off the van. I smoothed my skirt under me, sat on the roof, and slid off into his arms. We stood in the street facing each other, his hands on my waist. I felt my face flush but I could not break from his gaze. My mind went blank.

  “So how about what you owe me?” he said.

  “What?”

  “Gelato. Let’s go get one.”

  He grabbed the rose from the roof of the van and presented it to me. I put the bloom to my nose and covered my mouth to hide a wide smile. I had done it. Ryka would be so proud.

  “Encouraging me to break curfew and jump out of windows? You’re trouble.”

  “I promise, no more jumping out of windows,” he said.

  “Good. I’m never doing that again.”

  We stopped at a café for a strawberry gelato and continued walking. I juggled the rose, my spoon, and my cup of gelato while maneuvering around pedestrians and on-coming Vespas. I felt unbalanced on the bumpy stone streets. Paolo never appeared distracted. He examined my face, ignoring his melting dessert.

  “What?” I said.

  “What?”

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that? What are you thinking?”

  “I think you are beautiful,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I brushed my hair behind my ear. But I had done so with the hand holding my spoon, dripping pink globs into my hair.

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Don’t move,” he said. I froze as he stepped close to me and ran his fingers into my hair. “Your hair smells like strawberries now.”

  “That was my plan.”

  “Mmm.”

  Feeling shy, I inched away. “So, how long have you lived in Rome?”

  “For an eternity, it seems.”

  “You were born here?”

  He nodded.

  “Your English is amazing. Have you ever been anywhere else?”

  “I’ve been everywhere else.”

  We crossed the street and Paolo pulled on my elbow to keep me from walking into a passing bicycle.

  “Seriously?”

  “I like to travel.”

  “Yeah, but how did you get to travel so much?”

  He paused. “My father, he is a diplomat.”

  “So what are your favorite cities?”

  “Tokyo is amazing. Very clean. I have friends in Udaipur in India. The most beautiful lakes that you’ve ever seen.”

  “I have this dream of traveling the world and taking pictures for National Geographic magazine.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  I grinned. “Maybe one day. My parents want me to study something practical first—you know, get a degree.”

  As we walked by a store with stained glass windows, the shopkeeper came out and said something in Italian. Paolo stopped on the street corner to talk to him. I leaned over the stall in front of the shop and examined the necklaces and bracelets littering the table. I picked up a silver pendant in the shape of a coin; the image of a butterfly was etched on its surface.

  “Do you like it?” Paolo asked.

  “It’s pretty.”

  Paolo slipped his fingers through the chain, pulling it from me. He undid the clasp.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “Please,” he said, putting the chain around my neck.

  The pendant was cool against my chest. I pressed it against my skin to warm it up. Paolo reached into his pocket and pulled out some money.

  “No, please, I can’t accept this.”

  He handed the bills to the shopkeeper. “Zee, you are a guest in my city. Let me treat you. As a thank you for the gelato.”

  “The gelato was a thank you for helping me yesterday.”

  “Please. This is my pleasure.”

  “Thank you,” I said. We crossed the street. “A rose, a necklace? Way to set the bar, Paolo.”

  “I just want you to like me.”

  “Is this what it takes to get a girl to like you?”

  “You tell me.”

  It was working. The prospect of a summer of romance with him thrilled me.

  “It’s not necessary. But it is appreciated,” I said.

  Down an empty street, he set his uneaten gelato in a plant pot and sauntered up to a walled property. A blanket of ivy covered the stone wall and the gated entrance. He gripped the iron bars and motioned with a nod for me to join him. Inside the yard, two street lamps illuminated a brick building with a pitched roof. A large circular window on the front of its unremarkable façade made the structure look like a Cyclops. The ominous silhouette of a slim bell tower topped with a cross emerged from the back of the building.

  “This church is special,” Paolo murmured. “People say that this church is built over a well that is sacred to the gods.”

  He took the empty cup of gelato from my hand and set it on the ground.

  “Let’s take a closer look,” he said.

  “How?”

  He jumped, grabbed a horizontal bar at the top of the gate and pulled himself up. He perched there for a second and then vaulted over to the other side. My mouth fell open.

  “You didn’t just do that,” I said as he smiled at me from the other side. “Are you some kind of gymnast?”

  Paolo fiddled with the latch before pulling the door open, snapping vines of ivy. He parted the green curtains and extended his hand.

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” I said.

  “I come here once a week and there’s never anyone around,” he said. “We’ll just take a quick look. It’s an incredible place. You’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I just stared at his hand. I can’t. I can’t trespass.

  “Please? I planned this as a surprise for you,” he said.

  I looked at his face, saw it change from excited to disappointed, and I felt bad. He had thoughtfully planned this and I didn’t want to be a spoilsport. I had come this far already. Just a quick look. My hand slipped into his and he interlaced our fingers while I ducked under the ivy and stepped over a vine. The courtyard was barren, the grass long and uneven. We walked around to the side of the church. I listened and heard nothing but the crunch of grit under our feet and the chorus of crickets. I was conscious of the softness of his cool palm and our fingers rubbing together as we moved.

  Paolo stopped and opened a door to the building. The door creaked as he pushed it.

  What if we got caught?

  “Uh, Paolo,” I whispered. I tried to pull back but he held my hand firmly. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Don’t worry. I come here all the time to think.”

  I swallowed and resolved to trust him. Relationships were built on trust. And being an adventurer required courage. He led me inside, through the darkness, toward a yellow glow. I held my breath and followed him into the sanctuary, where I sighed in awe. “Wow.”

  I stared across twenty pews to the glowing altar. A portrait of the crucifixion hung above rows of gold candelabras. Paintings of angels and saints adorned every wall and every column. I took in the white marble floors and the colorful, coffered ceiling. I ran my hand along a wooden collection box and tried to read the sign: “Per I bambini del terzo mondo.”

  “It’s for children in the third world,” Paolo said.

  I set the rose down on the box and grabbed my purse, but then I realized I’d spent all of my money on gelato. Paolo dropped a coin into the slot. I smiled at him.

  “You’re a sweet girl,” he whispered.

  He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingertips tracing a soft line across my forehead and down my cheek. I became shy and showed him the top of my head. He lifted my chin so that our eyes met, our faces inches apart.

  I had stopped breathing. I felt as
if, at any moment, I would melt into the floor. As he leaned in, I fixated on his parted lips and I felt his hand slip around my waist. I thought he was going to kiss my forehead. Instead, he rested the side of his mouth against my temple and whispered in my ear.

  “Zee?”

  “Yes,” I said, breathlessly.

  “Now that I have you here all alone, what do you think I’m going to do to you?”

  His voice was low, his breath cool.

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  Chapter 4

  I thought I had misheard him.

  But his grip told me that everything had changed and that everything was wrong. I pushed back against his hand and his fingers dug into my back. He grabbed my neck and I gasped.

  No. This can’t be happening.

  I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. His thumb pressed the skin under my jaw and a shock of pain ripped through me, causing my knees to buckle.

  “Ow!” I cried. “You’re hurting me!” I drew a breath to scream and he crushed me against his chest. He was so strong.

  “Don’t scream,” he said into my ear.

  Inhaling, he dragged his nose against my cheek. Then I felt his tongue, cold and slimy, lap my chin. A whimper escaped from my lips.

  “You know, Zee, I’ve never taken anyone here before. But you are special. The second that I saw you, I had to have you. I’ve never seen anything more lovely. I just couldn’t help myself.”

  “Please, don’t kill me.”

  “That really isn’t an option.”

  He pulled me back so that he could look at me. His lips twisted into a sneer. I searched his eyes and saw no warmth, only a terrifying look of madness, of hunger. He didn’t look like himself anymore. I clawed at his arm and my feet slid as I tried to push myself away.

  “Mmm. This is my favorite part. The struggle.”

  “Please, Paolo. Just let me go. I promise I won’t tell the police or anyone about this if you let me leave.”

  He reached over and took the rose off the collection box. He tapped the bloom to his mouth and raised his eyebrows.

  “Why don’t we play a game?” he said. “If you can guess my plan for you, then you can go.”

  “You—you’re going to kill me!” My teeth clattered so that I could barely spit out the words.

  “But how?”

  He brushed the rose over my nose and lips. I tried to jerk my face away but his grip was unyielding.

  “Stop!”

  “Come on, Zee. What happened to all your playful energy?”

  He hit the rose against the side of my face and a petal fluttered to the ground like a wounded butterfly. I felt sick inside.