Page 20 of Vicious Intentions
“Are you okay?” she asks gently.
I shrug, wiping at my tears.
Am I okay? Well, there’s a question. No. I’m not okay. This phone was more than just a means to talk to the one true friend I had. It was a lifeline. And now… it’s gone.
No. I’m not okay. I don’t think I ever will be okay.
“You’re Luciano and Enzo’s sister, right?” she asks, her blue eyes softening.
“Please don’t tell them,” I manage to say. “They can’t know about this.”
Her shoulders slump somewhat at my plea.
“Are you sure?” she asks, a kind smile on her face. “From what I know of them, they’d set those mean girls straight better than I ever could.”
I want to tell her that she’s done more for me in the last five minutes than anyone else has in all the years I’ve attended Sacred Heart. But between the heartbreak of losing my only link to Raffaele and the fear of my brothers finding out what happened here, I can’t seem to form the words.
“All right,” she says gently. “If you don’t want your brothers finding out, that’s your prerogative, and I’ll respect it.” She sighs softly and slips an arm around my shoulders. “But how about we get you out of those wet clothes?”
I let her lead me back into the locker room, the ruined phone clutched in my hands the entire time. I don’t remember taking off my clothes or putting on dry ones. I only remember the weight of the phone, slick and lifeless against my palms.
“I don’t have one,” she says quietly, nodding toward the phone in my grip, “but I’ve heard putting a wet phone in rice sometimes helps.”
I don’t answer her. I just stare at it, wishing I’d been smart enough to memorize Raffaele’s number. Or write it down somewhere safe. But I was too afraid someone in my familywould find it somehow and realize that I’ve been talking to the enemy all this time.
I never imagined Raffaele would be taken from me like this.
“Come on,” she says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Let me help you.”
She pulls me along, and my tears blur everything that comes into view. I barely register where we’re going until we stop beneath the chapel, in an empty hallway lined with stacked boxes of canned goods and bagged food.
“This is everything the sisters were able to gather from this week’s food drive,” she says, already rummaging through the boxes. “There has to be a packet of rice in here somewhere.”
She digs faster, her movements growing more frantic by the second, then suddenly freezes.
“Bingo,” she says, lifting a small packet triumphantly. Her grin is wide and bright, as if she’d uncovered a buried treasure. “May I?” she asks, her eyes dropping to the phone still clenched in my hands.
I hesitate for a second, then loosen my grip and pass it to her. She slips the phone into the rice without ceremony, sealing the bag shut afterwards.
“Now all we can do is wait,” she says, smiling warmly at me. “Hopefully, before school ends, it’ll be good as new.”
I don’t dare to hope. I slide down the wall and hug my knees to my chest, holding myself together.
After a long pause, she asks, “What’s your name?”
“Annamaria,” I answer automatically, my eyes never leaving the bag of rice.
“Hi, Annamaria. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frankie,” she says, offering her hand, a gentle smile curving her lips.
I wipe an errant tear from my cheeks and shake her hand.
Another pause stretches between us before she speaks again.
“So… does that happen a lot?” Frankie asks carefully. “Those girls giving you a hard time?” I nod. “Mean girls are the worst, aren’t they?” She scoffs. “Especially rich, mean girls. They already have everything, yet it seems the misery of others is what truly makes them happy. How sad is that?”
“Mom says hurt people hurt people,” I murmur.
Frankie snorts. “Those girls have never had a bad day in their entire lives, much less suffered. Not to say your mom’s wrong, but sometimes bad people just like doing bad things.” A part of me thinks she might be right. “My two cents?” she continues. “Keep your head down and don’t give them ammo to mess with you.”
