meâthe outsider, breaking up with multigenerational him. I raised my voice to make it clear for him. âJesse, we are over!â
Unfortunately, as soon as Iâd said the word âJesse,â the choir stopped singing. Without the speakers blaring, my words filled the room. Half the audience turned around to see why Iâd yelled. No, Iâm wrong about that. It was the entire audience. Even Jesseâs mother, who stood on the stage in front of the choir with her back to the audience, looked over her shoulder at me. Youâd think as choir director she would have been professional about the whole thing and gone on with the next song, but you would be wrong. She kept staring at me, waiting, I suppose, to see if I had any other announcements to share with the crowd.
âWell,â Jesse said in a quiet voice, âI guess Iâm ready to leave after all.â
âIâll find my own way home.â I stood up and stormed toward the door. The choir finally began their next number, but by that time it was too late. Theyâd lost the crowdâs attention. Every single pair of eyes followed me across the room. Including Wilsonâs and Bridgetâs. She looked like she was waiting for me to get out of earshot so she could laugh, but Wilson, well, Wilsonâs wide eyes were harder to read. I had no idea what he thought.
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âYou did what?â Dante said after Iâd told him what happened. He stood over motorcycle parts in our garage and shook his head like he hadnât understood me.
âI broke up with Jesse because heâs working on Wilsonâs campaign instead of yours. I thought you should know.â After all, everyone else did.
More head shaking on Danteâs part. âSheesh, Giovanna, itâs a high school election, not a kidney transplant.â
Okay, I hadnât expected him to give me a hug or anything, especially since his hands were all greasy. But still, I had expected a more touching response. Maybe a thank you.
âHeâs working against you, Dante. Friends arenât supposed to do that.â
âHe said he owed Wilson a favor. I could understand that. It just means Iâm going to have a great time rubbing it in when Wilson loses.â
I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms. âWhy does Jesse owe Wilson a favor?â
Dante shrugged. âI donât know. Theyâve been friends for a long time. Wilsonâs probably done a lot of stuff for Jesse.â
I resented my brotherâs calmness. My own insides hadnât stopped churning since I stormed out of the hotel ballroom. In a harsher voice than I should have used, I said, âJesse told me he doesnât think you have a chance because youâre a newcomer.â
âYeah, well, Jesse is wrong about a lot of things. For example, he rides a Buell motorcycle. Those things break down so often they ought to come standard with tow rope.â Dante finally straightened up and looked at me. âYou donât have to break up on my account. I donât care if you go out with him.â
âWell, itâs too late. I already announced it. Inadvertently. To the whole audience during a song break.â
Dante shook his head again. âI told you that you were too emotional.â
I could think of many problems I had right then, and none of them had to do with my emotions. They all had to do with guys who liked motorcycles.
After I went insideâslamming the door to prove to Dante I wasnât too emotionalâI walked over to the phone to call one of my friends. I wished, not for the first time, that I had a twin sister instead of a brother. A sister would have understood how I felt instead of treating me like an idiot for being loyal. Plus, if I had an identical sister, she could, you know, pretend to be me until people forgot Iâd humiliated myself at a library fund-raiser.
I picked up a cordless phone, headed to my
Learning to Kill: Stories