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I’d sat quietly in the passenger seat of his SUV, dutifully munched on the pepperoni pizza he’d bought, then disappeared into the dorm building and into my room. Here, perched on my bed in front of my laptop, I thought I would find answers. The operative word here beingthought.
A knock sounded on my door, and it flew open a moment later.
“Hey, Raven,” Greta called before she walked right in.
She looked as refreshed as ever, even if we had just finished with a grueling week of midterm exams. But of course, she did. Greta subscribed more to the belief that college was a place to party and get laid rather than an academic institution. Since the woman could ace any test with her eyes closed, she had the luxury of subscribing to whatever belief she wanted.
“Hi, Greta,” I glanced back at the news reports on the screen. The same news reports I’d been staring at for hours. My finger hovered over the smallXbutton, but I couldn’t force my fingers to click off the page.
“I was worried I’d find you here,” Greta said as I stared at the news page on my screen, my pointer finger frozen on the trackpad.
The headline from September 17, 2016 flashed like a neon sign.
“Leovino Luca, Son of Suspected Mafia Boss, Vincent Luca, in Hospital Following Altercation.”
“You do know exam week is over, right?” she teased as she leaned over behind me and propped her chin on the top of my head. She sighed while her long, blonde hair hung down like a curtain in front of my face.
“Friend of yours?” she teased, looking at the screen.
“No,” I said.
“Well, then, is he single? Because he’s—”
“He’s my brother.”
My breath hitched.
I wasn’t thinking straight. Greta had been my best friend since I’d moved to California, but there were things she didn’t know about me, like my real name, and who my real parents were, and that Vito wasn’t really the head of some small-time security company.
“Umm, what’s that now?” she asked, leaning away and plopping down next to me.
I swallowed hard, not quite ready to admit it. I’d read a quote once,“Better terrible truths than kind lies.”
“They lied.” I forced the words past my lips, then tried to blink back the tears welling in my eyes.
“Who lied, Raven?”
“Everyone,” I said.
Greta looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Of course, I wasn’t making a bit of sense, but instead of trying to explain it, I pulled up the other browser I had open. It was front and center on the page from the day following that horrid night.
Daughter of Suspected Mafia Head Dead After a Tragic House Fire.
“It’s me, Greta,” I said. I was the dead daughter.
“What are you talking about?”
It was difficult to hear her over the whooshing of blood past my ears. Speaking the words aloud made them real, like tangible things that now floated in the air between us and couldn’t be unseen.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The reporter had gotten it all wrong. I wasn’t even in the house that night. I should have been. I could remember it like it was yesterday.
“Good night, Bullet,” I whispered in the dark.
I had just barely closed my eyes when I heard a soft click. The moonlight shone through the window, reflecting against my mother’s dark eyes. At that moment, it looked like her irises were underwater, and I could see right through her soul.
“I have a surprise for you, stellina,” she said in the dark.
Stellinameantlittle star.
