He names eachcicchetto, correcting my mangled pronunciation, then orders bread topped with whipped salt cod, tiny meatballs glistening in tomato sauce, and fried mozzarella that oozes at the edges.
Nadia and Alessandra budge up to make room around a wobbly table, and we get a round of fizzy orange in squat little tumblers.
I take a sip, savouring the bubbles on my tongue. It feels good to do something normal – eat, drink, listen to people argue about whichcicchettois best – and to forget about certificates and qualifications and the future.
I don’t even regret saving the faerie prince … until he brings up my hasty exit from the kitchen yesterday morning.
‘So … the drawing Jacopo showed me,’ he says, sounding cautious.
I squirm on my seat, glancing over at Alessandra and Nadia to see if they’re listening in, but they’re deep in their own conversation about a gig on the mainland.
So Leo did get a proper look. I’d been hoping he’d just forget about it.
‘Yeah,’ I say quickly. ‘Just a silly drawing.’
He shakes his head. ‘Not silly. But … I recognized it. It’s a take on the mural outside the school.’
Oh no. Surely he can’t think—
‘Wait,’ I blurt. ‘You don’t thinkIdid that?’
‘I know it wasn’t you,’ Leo says calmly.
I relax back in my chair.
‘Because it was me,’ he adds.
I snort, half-laughing. ‘Right. You, sneaking out to spray-paint your mum and dad’s school. Very believable. As believable as the real Leonardo da Vinci coming back from the dead and doing it himself.’
Leo picks up his phone. ‘Fine. Let’s do this the hard way.’
A notification bar flashes up on my own screen:Art Exchange – New Message.
My breath catches. I’m back in! I can contact Rebel.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble, already swiping. ‘I need to check this. It’s important.’
I open the app to find a system notification:Your posting privileges have been reinstated.
And right beneath it:@RenaissanceRebel: Still believe I didn’t do the street art?
My phone nearly slips from my hand. I blink at the screen, willing the words to rearrange themselves into something else. A glitch. A prank. Anything but this.
@RenaissanceRebel: Still believe I didn’t do the street art?
I snap the screen face-down on the table, my hands shaking.
‘Evie!’ Alessandra interrupts her conversation with Nadia to give me a concerned look. ‘You’ve gone white. You need sugar.’ She grabs my empty glass. ‘Hang on. I’ll get more orange.’
I don’t answer. I can’t. How is this even possible? Leo Ballarin with a spray can? Please.
Except … the truth is there on my phone … in black and white.
RenaissanceRebel, the boy I’ve been talking to night and day for the past year, is sitting shoulder toshoulder with me.
Only … Rebel listens. Rebel gets me. Leo shuts me out, makes me feel small. He rejected my kiss … Or did he? He knew who I was. He tried to tell me.
Leo holds out his hand. ‘Pleased to finally meet you. Should we … shake on it?’
