As God Commands by Niccolò Ammaniti Read Free Book Online Page B

do?
    He looked around in a panic for some place to hide. But where?
There was no cover anywhere.
    He hated the idea of Fabiana Ponticelli seeing him walking along
the side of the highway like a big loser, three miles away from school.
    So, on an impulse, he turned away toward the fields, hoping he
wouldn't be recognized. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the
scooter flash past. On the back seat behind Fabiana Ponticelli was Esmeralda Guerra. Both in phosphorescent windproof jackets. One
pink, the other pistachio. Both in miniskirts. Both in black tights
with embroidered seams, and cowboy boots. Both wearing a helmet
with a fluffy tail hanging down behind.

    They were the same age as Cristiano (well, actually Fabiana was
a year older-she'd been held back for failing her exams-which is
why she could ride a scooter). They all went to the same school,
but were in different sections. The girls in H, he in B.
    Cristiano didn't know them well.
    They didn't recognize me.
    He was wrong. After travelling another fifty yards the scooter
slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
    Don't worry; they've probably stopped because one of their
phones was ringing.
    The girls' long legs stuck out on each side of the scooter like the
black legs of a tarantula. The exhaust pipe belched out white smoke.
    He walked on, ignoring them and holding his breath, but finally,
when he had almost passed them, he couldn't help turning to look
at them.
    Fabiana raised the visor of her helmet. "Hey, you! Stop! Where
are you going in this rain?"
    Cristiano struggled to find enough air in his lungs to give a reply.
"To school..."
    On the rare occasions when he talked to the two of them, something happened which always left him unhappy and frustrated.
    He would become so shy that he couldn't string two words
together, his body temperature would soar and his ears would
burn.
    If only he had been a little less awkward perhaps he could have
made them laugh, become their friend, got them to like him. But
this was impossible because there was a problem.
    They were too beautiful.
    They paralyzed him. When he met those two his brain would
seize up. He would become a complete moron, only able to stutter,
nod and shake his head.
    They had a way of behaving that made you feel like a worm.
They knew the whole school fancied them and they delighted in driving you crazy. They would start toying with you and then when
they tired of it-and they tired very quickly-you no longer existed
and weren't worth a gob of spit. And they were weird. They kept
to themselves. They touched each other. They kissed. The other
kids whispered that they were lesbians. It was as if they weren't
of this world and had only come down to it for a moment to make
you understand that you would never be able to have them.

    The strategy that Cristiano Zena had adopted with the female
sex was to ignore them. To act tough, play the guy who minds his
own business, the mystery man. But he had the impression that his
method wasn't very effective.
    "Have you missed the bus?" Fabiana asked him.
    Cristiano lit a cigarette and nodded.
    "Wow! You smoke!"
    He shrugged.
    "School will be over by the time you get there..." Fabiana eyed
him, then gave a little smile. "You don't give a shit, do you? You
don't give a shit about anything."
    "Exactly."
    "Do you want a lift?"
    At this point Esmeralda, squirming as if she had nettle rash, lifted
her visor and snorted: "For Christ's sake, Fabiana! We'll get stopped
with three on the scooter. Forget about it. What do you care? We're
late."
    Cristiano only caught snatches of their conversation.
    He was wondering which of them he liked more. Esmeralda
was dark-skinned, with eyes as black as drops of crude oil. She
had straight, raven hair and thin, plum-colored lips. Fabiana was
the exact opposite. Pure blonde, with eyes as green as pond-water
and large, bloodless lips. But in other respects they were strikingly similar. They