5. Gia

five

Gia

The next Friday night, dad picks me up from school, but since he has to close the pizzeria, he takes me back with him. We sit in my favorite booth, the one with the red stained-glass tiffany lamp hanging above it, and a black and white photo of the Brooklyn Bridge next to the large window. Rocco—along with all my cheerleading squad—had gone on the bus with the football team to their travel game. As much as I try to be optimistic, it's hard to be left out. Everyone is gone.

I rest my elbow on the table and plop my chin in my palm to sulk. This is going to be a long football season if I must sit out the entire time. Dad goes behind the counter to grab our pizza, leaving me to stare out the window. The weather even matches my mood, overcast, with thick clouds threatening rain. With the temperature hovering right around that thirty-three-degree mark, rain will easily turn into freezing rain, creating the worst-case scenario for travel. I really hope the bus makes it back tonight, or I might be spending the whole weekend without my friends. I sigh heavily as everyone is experiencing junior year without me.

"I'm glad we have this time together," Dad starts when he returns with a small pizza, taking a moment to center it in the middle of the table, and we both dish up a piece of my favorite pepperoni and jalape?o. While dad stuffs the end of his napkin into his shirt collar, he adds, "I was hoping we could talk."

My expression may have been a bit guarded. Dad and I have always been close, but with everything going way wrong this year, I'm scared of what's next. "Talk about what?"

"What's up with Rocco?" Dad's dark eyes soften, but he doesn't hold back from taking a bite of his slice before he speaks again, "The coach called me and said he's been having a lot of issues with his temper, even more than usual."

"I don't know." I pick at the cheese strand that never ends as I try to politely nibble it off my slice. "You know how he is. He has a chip on his shoulder, and he doesn't let anyone talk to him."

"I know." Dad lowers his lashes, hooding his eyes, being hard on himself. The truth is, Dad has done about everything he can think of to help both Rocco and me succeed in life, but he's only one person. It was certainly easier when Mom was around, but she passed unexpectedly last year after a very short battle with breast cancer, and Rocco has had anger issues ever since. "I sure wish he'd talk to me."

"Maybe someday he will." I dab the corner of my mouth, ignoring the knot in my stomach that always buds when we talk about any of the changes our family has gone through this last year. I change the subject, "Hey, I have a question for you."

"What's that?" One of his bushy brows spikes over the other.

"Something happened to Rosie, my axolotl. I had her when I fell asleep last night, but when I woke up, she was missing. I looked all over for her, but with my knee throbbing to its own tune, I had to give up. Have you seen her?"

"I have not." Dad tilts his head, thoughtfully. "Not aside from the fact that every time I've seen you this week, you've had her on your lap."

"Right," I exclaim, as I love her so much. "I never let her out of my sight, and now she's gone."

"I'm sure she'll show up." Dad pats his hand on top of mine, just as a crowd of teens walk up outside the window. It takes a moment for me to recognize the Bulldog blue, red and white. "Oh, look at that. The team must be home early. It looks as if they are all headed to the coffee shop."

I recognize my whole cheer squad and several of the players. My heart skips a beat when North passes in front of the window, with Rocco behind him. The crowd rushes across the street, and I feel a pang of envy as they all file into the coffee shop. Just another thing I'm missing out on.

"You should go." Dad coaxes softly. "I'll help you across the street."

Pulling one side of my mouth up into a lazy smile, I hate to leave him, but he understands. "Do you think I'll be crashing?"

"Not at all. You may not be able to cheer anymore, but you can sit at the coffee shop to hang out. You need to at least be able to do that much." Dad jumps to his feet and holds his hand out to help me up. "Besides, then you can keep an eye on that brother of yours."

"Thanks Dad." I take his hand, and limp forward, favoring my swollen knee as a bubble of excitement fills my chest. Finally, after a solid week of being left out, there's something I can do, too.