Date: Mon, 18 Apr 2005 08:36:24 -0400
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Lizard (part 1), chapter 16

"Did you say good bye to your stabber?" Dante hissed when Luca came
home. But Giano pulled Luca aside. "Nobody knows you weren't at home last
night. I told them you left early this morning." Giano's gentle brown eyes
were a little bloodshot.

"Had fun at the opera?" his mother chirped, ruffling Luca's hair. Luca
ducked away and mumbled "Yes". He wanted to be alone, away from Clarissa's
cheerfulness, Dante's lurking eyes and Giano's concerned watchfulness.

"You said the Gondi boy is leaving today?" Clarissa went on, while her
agile hands washed the plates and cutlery from the supper. "There's rabbit
left, if you like. Aren't you hungry?"

"No", Luca mumbled once more and dropped his head. From the corner of his
eye he saw Dante open his mouth, but he received a blow from Giano's
elbow. "Have you nothing to do?"

Dante, dressed in jeans and jacket with a scarf of AC Firenze around his
neck, shot him a look and left the kitchen. Luca was reminded that on next
Wednesday he had to meet his friends for the football match and he sighed
inwardly. What a prospect. Without a further word he left and entered the
narrow staircase. He felt Giano at his heels.

Without being invited, his brother followed him into his room. "Has he
left?"

Luca nodded and dropped down upon his bed. "Thanks for lying for me", he
said, not looking at his older brother. Giano squatted in front of
him. "Next week I'm off too. You think you'll be alright?"



"I will. Please stop treating me like a baby."

A little smile curled Giano's lips. "I reckon he will return soon, won't
he? Next weekend perhaps?"

Luca looked up and suddenly tears welled up in his eyes. He couldn't stop
himself from stretching out his arms and embracing his brother. He felt his
soothing closeness. "Hey, I'm sure you'll survive a week", Giano
whispered. He wasn't sure if the Gondi-boy was worth all the heartfelt
pain. He had watched him long enough to know that Alessandro was a slut and
a heart-breaker, with a remarkable talent to lure women and men to his side
to play with them and then toss them away for the next one. He was angry
that his brother could become one of them. But no way in hell would he tell
Luca. He freed himself from the embrace and lifted Luca's chin. "You've
plenty to do next week. Going to work, learning a lot, meeting with your
friends, and you'll see, in no time it's Friday evening." He winked.

Luca sniffed and felt consoled. How good it felt to have a brother to share
his secrets with. "Has Dante said anything?"



"No. I'll make sure he doesn't."

But in two weeks you're gone too, Luca thought, and what then?



*



Alessandro put on his sun glasses to stop the sun shining into his eyes. He
drove straight west, upon a country road that led between kiwi-plantations
and vineyards, peach trees and tree nurseries. The Ferrari buzzed satisfied
under his buttocks and he turned on the radio. A minute later he turned it
off. It was disturbing his train of thoughts. Red statues shimmered through
a hedgerow as he passed a workshop for terracotta. The sun inflamed the
burnt stone to a deep crimson red.

He knew that next to the country road ran the lazy flow of the
Arno. Alessandro drove slowly and enjoyed the silence of the Sunday's late
afternoon so much that he took detours to reach his destination. On the
right hand side he passed Empoli and the junction that would lead to
Leonardo's birthplace Vinci, all hidden between olive plantations, the
black peaks of cypresses and large, wild meadows in between, now and then
interrupted with houses painted with the colours of the south: dark
terracotta, yellow in all shades, light ochre and faded orange. He met
hardly any cars, at least not before he crossed the Arno again, approaching
Pisa, the former almighty town at the Tyrrhenian Sea whose fleet had once
ruled the world. Little was left of it. Alessandro's hometown Florence
forced Pisa under its yoke, and this even without Leonardo's great plans to
deflect the river to cut off Pisa from the harbour; it was nature and time
that did it itself. The town was situated now ten kilometres away from the
sea, because the river had shovelled great heaps of sand and mud to its
mouth. The heavy anchor chains of the ships he had seen hanging at the
walls of the great cemetery, and he longed to study all of them again.

 In the distance towered the Apuanian mountains, foothills of the mountains
where the Cararra-marble was broken. The river snaked in a wide bow through
the town when Alessandro turned into the autostrada, passing a stony gate
that lead into the town. The water had a different colour, milky green,
almost grey, from the gravel and marble the waves brought with it on its
long journey.

Cars streamed into the town returning from their Sunday trips and
Alessandro orientated himself with the signs that would lead him into the
centre, to the university. The last of tourist's busses jammed the streets
when he arrived at the large, sandy coloured building. He stopped his car
directly in front of it and entered the two story, square yard, similar to
his own home's yard, just much wider.



"Very few students here, young man", the old caretaker said, interrupting
his meal of bread and salami. He poked around pieces of it between his
teeth as he rose achingly, pulled on an old cardigan and shuffled in his
baggy cord trousers next to Alessandro across the yard, through a hallway,
to an attached building that was adapted to the old Renaissance-style of
the university.

"Kitchen is not yet open for the students, young man", he croaked, "but in
the student's quarter you'll find lots of appropriate places for you." He
looked Alessandro up and down, sniffing the air. Apparently he sensed
Alessandro's rich upbringing, although he had tried to appear as casual as
possible.

Alessandro presented him his registration form and the old man nodded,
still chewing at the remains of his supper. "The semester starts in two
weeks, young man, but the library is open for kids like you. What are you
studying?"



"History of Art."

The old man nodded again. "Bene. Like so many of you." He rummaged in the
small bag he carried and handed Alessandro a plan of the buildings. "This
might help with your orientation." Together they entered a large floor from
which doors opened to the right. The left side was covered with windows,
overlooking the Piazza dei Cavallieri, with the same named large palazzo.



"There are fifteen students here, who didn't go home for holidays." He held
Alessandro's registration form close to his eyes. "I see you wished a
comfort-room. The single rooms are booked out."

"Alright", Alessandro said, following the old man, wishing he would go
faster for his bags were getting heavier with every minute.

The room he was offered was attached to a kitchen in the middle; with two
beds on each side, two wardrobes, tables and stools. "TV costs extra. But
the use of the kitchen is free. And here's the key" he said, fumbling with
a huge key ring and again raised it close to his eyes. "It opens your room,
nothing else. I'm always there if you need help."

Alessandro nodded. He signed for the key and let out a heartfelt sigh when
the old man had shuffled away. He dropped upon the bed, and stretched his
body out. A light headache was throbbing behind his forehead and his
stomach growled. "Kitchen is cold", he remembered the words of the care
taker, so he had to find out a place where he could grab something to eat
for himself.

On the landing he bumped into a lanky youth with stubbled hair, cut so
short that it was just a centimetre long, covering his skull. He raised up
his eyes and laughed then. "Hey, I didn't expect anyone else here. New?" He
eyed Alessandro from head to toe, a brief, curious look. He stretched out
his hand and said brightly "I'm Franco. What's your name?"



"Alessandro."

"Fine. Hungry? If yes, we have the same intention. What are you studying?"

"History of Art."

"Great! That's my direction too." Without any further ado, he shoved
Alessandro down the staircase, along the hallway, through the yard and out
of the university. Alessandro laughed quietly to himself. Usually he was
the master of talks and actions; now he had found his master
himself. Probably. He squinted against the setting sun when they were
standing upon the street. "Look, there's the house of Galileo. He had a
chair for mathematics here."

Alessandro nodded friendly. He knew that of course.



"Where do you come from?" Franco asked, starting a fast tempo directly into
the old town quarter. Soon they were surrounded by the noise of Vespas and
the chattering of people coming through open doors and windows, street
cafes, trattorias and the smell of fresh baked pizze and vegetables hung in
the air. Alessandro had classified Franco's dialect to somewhere in the
north.

"Florence."

"Ah, I guessed so. I'm from a small village near Venice. I've no money to
travel home for holidays, so I had to stay here. Well, it was a short break
anyway. And you?"

"What me?"

"Why do you came so early?" Franco had led Alessandro to a pub in a narrow
street, and to a gathering of youths sitting at little tables in front of
it.

"Well, why not. I have some things to do here."

"Family? Friends?"

"You're pretty nosy, honey."

Franco gave him an odd stare from aside and shut his mouth. He pulled
Alessandro with him though to an empty table and called to the
waiter. Apparently he was good friends with him. "I'm starving", he said,
studying the menu. "I'll think it's pasta."



"I think it's a panzanella first", Alessandro said. "You'd like one too?
Feel invited."

Franco made round eyes and hesitated. "You know... you don't feel you have
to."



"I'd like to. It's my first day here." He waved to the waiter and ordered
two panzanella salads, pasta for Franco and salsicce with polenta for
himself. Franco remained silent and eyed Alessandro from aside.

"Perhaps you'll gain some fat on your ribs then", Alessandro winked. Then
he nudged Franco. "Hey, don't be so stubborn. The next time is on you."

Franco's a little pock marked face lit up. "Alright then."

Alessandro wondered how quickly Franco cleared his plates. "So you'll have
started your studies already, yes?" he asked. "We won't be in the same
class then."



"Well, of course we can have some courses together. What are you interested
in?"

"The history of Florence especially. I'd like to become a guide. You?"

"Well, restorer actually. I dream of an employment in Venice."

Alessandro whistled through his teeth. "A never ending task." He pushed
over his credit card and signed. Franco made big eyes, but said
nothing. They sat for a while and finished their glasses of cheap wine,
enjoying the atmosphere of low sounding music, quiet chattering, clinking
glasses and cigarette smoke. This he had dreamed of, Alessandro thought, to
be among kindred spirits, having a buddy he could have good talks with.



"Where do you live?" he asked. "Single room?"

"Hell, no, I can't afford that. Three-man-room, actually pretty stuffed,
but what can I do."

Alessandro felt a little ashamed of his money, but that wasn't his fault
either. He rose and sauntered with Franco through the illuminated streets,
making a big circle until they reached the campus again. "Have you a
girlfriend?" Franco asked. "I left mine in my home town. Well, we haven't
been together for that long, so..."



"So...?"

Franco looked frankly at him. "Well, how do I know what she's doing?"

Alessandro was quiet. Yes, how did he know what Luca was doing? Suddenly he
felt alone.



"I left mine in Florence", he mumbled, almost involuntarily.

"But she can come each weekend, it's just two hours away."

They stood in front of Franco's room. "It's a he", Alessandro said.

Franco lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh. Well... cool." He grinned and
turned the key. "See you tomorrow then. What are your plans? We can have
breakfast at the same spot. They offer cheap prices; they know students are
always in need."

Alessandro nodded, somewhat relieved.



"Thanks for being honest", Franco said when he closed his door.



Like a tiger in a cage Alessandro went from the bath to the kitchen and
back to his room. It wasn't a very wise idea to come here so early, was it?
He considered phoning Luca but remembered that he hadn't a mobile and that
one of his parents would answer the phone. In the worst case scenario it
would be Dante. Then he had an idea and made a mental note to do this first
thing the next morning. So, he had plenty of time to explore the town,
probably together with Franco. Or go to the secretary and pick up the list
of possible courses he had to take. Visit the National Museum to see
Masaccio's painting of San Paolo, the apostle, Masolino had mentioned in
his diary.

Finally he searched for bed linen in the wardrobes and made his bed. He
pulled out towels and placed all his toiletries in the bathroom. Luckily he
had his own that he would only have to share with his room mate.

The bed was hard, but not uncomfortably. After a few attempts to stuff his
pillow under his head the way he liked it, he stood up and opened the
window. He simply had to get used to it all, the foreign smell, the noises,
the sound the rustling bedcover made and his naked feet upon the
carpet. Instead he pulled on a t-shirt and sat at the table where he leafed
through his travel guide of Pisa. He had always puzzled in his head where
the Carmine-church would be. He couldn't find it in any travel guides, nor
on internet sites. Masaccio had painted his large altar piece for that
church that had been taken to pieces and spread over Europe. The panels
were all at Berlin, Germany, The Crucifixion at Naples, the Madonna at the
National Gallery, London. Just San Paolo had remained here at Pisa.

Alessandro remembered Masolino's mysterious words when they had
parted. Masaccio on his way to Pisa to start the work of commission for the
Carmine-church, his brother in tow. "Lo Scheggia" - the splinter - as his
contemporaries had called him, for whatever reason. Why did they call a man
The Splinter? Masolino had had a very bad feeling when he had watched them
going. Alessandro smelled a family drama, that had its origin here in this
place: The Pisan Carmine-church. With the help of some natives he should be
able to find it.



* * *



Two days later a parcel awaited Luca when he came home from the Opificio. A
cardboard box, wrapped with red paper coming from Pisa. Luca's heart beat
faster. A parcel from Alessandro? And he hadn't even been away a
week. Niccolò and Marcello, just arrived home from work and hungry, eyed
curiously alternating between the parcel and the glowing Luca who would
have loved nothing more than to unwrap it in his room. "You made close
friends with the Gondi-boy, didn't you", his father asked, slipping off his
shoes. Again he had gone home in his dirty overall, and Clarissa had
laughingly scolded him. "Sending you parcels already."

Marcello watched Luca silently. "Where's Dante anyway?" Niccolò asked him.



"Date", Marcello answered monosyllabic.

Niccolò shook his head. "I thought he would rather train for the Gioco."



"You mean, sex isn't good for a sportsman?" Marcello asked, hiding his
grin. Niccolò rolled his eyes. "Of course it gives you weak legs. And he
needs his strength for the match, now our Quartiero is in the final." He
sniffed and searched for his pipe.

A wire burnt suddenly in Luca's stomach. The Gioco would take place soon
and Alessandro had been determined to attend. He was in the Quartiero of
San Giovanni, so he and Dante would probably be rivals. But, was it likely
that Alessandro would be allowed to participate? On the other side: who
would oppose the Prince of the Lilies?



"What about your workout and training?" his father asked, eying his
son. "We want to make sure the victory is on us this time, d'accordo?"

Marcello mumbled something, still his eyes on Luca's parcel. Luca snatched
it, pressed it to his chest and was about to leave the kitchen. "Dinner's
ready soon", Niccolò called after him.

Up in his room Luca hastily opened the cardboard box and yet another and
then held a mobile phone in his hands. It was not just a cheap thing, but
an expensive looking phone with shiny, silvery buttons and a blue
display. A card was attached.

"Gioia,

This is something useful for us, don't you think? I would had phoned, but
actually I don't fancy a talk with any of your family. Please phone me as
soon as you can, my number is stored already.

Alessandro"

Luca's excitement peeled off. No "I miss you", no virtual kisses for him?
He examined the mobile, found the place with the telephone numbers and
Alessandro's and pressed the button. Alessandro answered immediately and
sent a little stab into Luca's heart. It was good to hear his voice so
close to his ear.



"Wasn't that one of my brighter ideas, eh?" Alessandro chuckled into the
loudspeaker, "You can talk as long as you want, it's all on me. So, how are
you?" His voice echoed somewhat as if he was standing in a big hall.

"Where are you?" Luca asked instead of giving an answer.

"In a church."

"Church? The big cathedral?"

"No, the Carmine-church. That's where Masaccio worked."

"Ah! Now, do you come home for weekend?"

"Of course. Make sure you've plenty of time for me, capisce?

Luca grinned and nodded. "I miss you."



"Miss you too. Until later, ciao."

Alessandro had cut off the call. With shame Luca realized that he hadn't
even thanked him. By all means he would make sure that he had his weekend
off, all day and all the nights. Before that he would go to Alessandro's
home to make it comfortable for the two of them.



That night he dreamt of a blazing torch that lured him into a dark tunnel
deep beneath the earth. It smelled damp and mouldy and he heard water drops
flow from silver shimmering walls. He knew it was Alessandro he was
following because he heard his light foot steps. He walked on silent feet
as usual. But Luca couldn't reach him, as fast as he was hurrying,
stumbling over rubble, slipping in oily water puddles. When the fingertips
of his outstretched arm almost reached the back of Sandro a flush of fire
shattered between him and his boyfriend, parting them, causing Luca to yelp
with pain. An arm, carrying a torch burnt in front of his face and took his
sight. Luca shouted and screamed . and woke up, bathed in sweat.

He sat up and wiped the moist strands of his hair, then he rubbed his
eyes. What was that crap? Tunnel, torches, fire. Sandro lost. Deep within
him Luca knew that his subconsciousness he feared that he would lose his
lover to another town and perhaps another man.

Luca clutched his drawn up legs and stared into his morning dawn lightened
room without seeing anything. To make the trouble perfect he had to go
today and endure the football match. He sighed loudly and scrambled out of
his bed. At least it would bring a bit of a change. Soundlessly he padded
across the hallway to the bathroom and thought wistfully at Sandro's
spacious bathroom, that was actually a separate room of Sandro's huge
living room that was almost took up the whole length of the Palazzo.

Luca fumbled with the bathroom boiler, put some more wood into the shutter
and lit it. Tired and somewhat hung-over he sat upon the toilet seat and
rubbed his face. What a dream. He jumped when the door opened and Giano
peered in "Up so early?" he asked, entering the room.



"Bad dream". Luca rose and made room for his brother who had difficulties
aiming his morning wood into the toilet bowl. Luca grinned and stepped in
front of the mirror. A pair of gentle brown eyes stared back, a little
swollen from sleep. Another face appeared in the mirror behind him. Giano
wrapped an arm around Luca's chest and leaned his face against Luca's
hair. "Aren't we a happy pair?" he whispered. Luca leaned against his
brother's body, feeling his hardness. "You certainly mean beautiful pair",
Luca chuckled. "Better you find another place for that", and winked at
Giano's mirror image. Giano winked back, though somewhat melancholic. "How
come we are so different?" he asked. "You and me. There's no similarity to
Dante and Marcello. Whether outwardly or inwardly." He pressed Luca tightly
to his chest, still speaking to his mirror image. "Promise to tell me
instantly if they harm you, alright?"

Luca nodded. "But I can take care of myself, Giano."



"I know you can. I just want to know what's going on."

Luca hesitated for a moment. "Sandro has given me a mobile. If you get
yourself one we can stay in contact always." He saw Giano's eyes
brightening in astonishment. "Given you a mobile? Such an expensive gift?
Wow."



"He said he didn't want to phone me in case it's Dante answering it."

"Since when is he so shy?" Giano answered. "He never avoided any conflict
before."

Luca pondered for a while. "It was Dante who beat us up on the street
recently", he mumbled, avoiding Giano's eyes. He felt himself turned to
face his brother. "Are you sure?"



"Sandro recognized him. And anyway, Dante didn't deny it."

"You've talked with him about that?" Giano asked surprised.

"Not really. But I know it was him and some others."

"Marcello?"

"Don't think so."

Giano stroked over Luca's cheek, then he untangled his hair with his
fingers. What if the same waited for himself? What if he had came out
earlier? Would he had prepared a smooth way for Luca then? He was not sure
how his father would react - having two gay sons. And Clarissa? Would she
still be the lovingly, innocent mother? Giano would be alright if it wasn't
so, but Luca was still too young for that burden.



"Does Sandro come over the weekend?" he asked instead. Luca had meanwhile
started to brush his teeth and nodded. "You must do me another favour", he
said indistinctly, white foam upon his lips. Giano put some toothpaste upon
his brush and looked up. "Another night of freedom?" His brown eyes
sparkled. Luca blushed and bent his head to rinse his mouth. "No need to
feel ashamed, gioia", Giano whispered close to his ear. "Make sure it's
safe, ok?"

With a jolt Luca remembered that they hadn't used a condom the last
time. But he trusted Sandro. His brother had died of AIDS, and he wouldn't
be so stupid to be careless if he wasn't absolutely sure about his state of
health. Would he?

Giano eyed his brother in the mirror, saw the worries painted on his face,
and then relief. He wondered what was going on in his head. Sandro had a
large consumption of girls and boys; he knew that. How far had both gone?
For Giano it had been just hand and blowjobs in a darkroom, or a wild
fumbling in the park and somehow he envied his younger brother. At least he
would have a bed to lay down with the Prince of the Lilies.. He chuckled. A
bed of lilies.

Luca had stepped stark naked into the bathtub and turned on the heated
water. Before he could pull the plastic curtain to avoid setting the
bathroom under water, Giano climbed into the tub and started to soap first
Luca than himself. Luca enjoyed his brother's hands and it was hard to stop
his body showing his excitement. Actually it was impossible since he heard
Giano's chuckle through the beating of the water.



"Surely I'll help you. Though it was close last time", Giano explained
after a while. He rinsed off the water from his body and stepped out. "I
guess Sandro has a better bathroom, hasn't he?"

Luca heard the tease in his voice and grinned, while he wrapped himself
into a towel.



"How do you get along together actually? Doesn't he consider us as the poor
workers who maintain his lifestyle?"

"What makes you think so?" Luca said a bit angrily. "He hasn't any class
snobbery." He has for sure, he thought immediately, but held his tongue.

Giano smirked. "Hasn't he, ah. Well, then." He slipped into his tight
boxer-shorts, combing back his wet hair with his hands. Luca thought his
brother looked marvellous. Thankfully he missed the beefy stature of his
two older brothers, but he had a finer bone-structure and his skin was
smooth and shimmered like gold from the sun. His now soft penis and the low
hung balls were clearly defined under the thin, blue material, and were
identical to his own equipment. Which was looking good by the way, Luca
grinned to himself.



"Hurry up, I'm going to make breakfast." Giano was out of the door.



* * * * *



"Football?" Tristano repeated and frowned a bit. "I've tickets too, but
actually..."

"You've got better things to do? Going out with your girlfriend?"

"No, with my sister. She's the one interested in football."

Odd, Luca had thought that all straights were mad for football. Inwardly he
rolled his eyes. Just another one of those clichés. Standing in front of
the class, Coppo handled the slide projector, showing photos of the Chapel
of the Princes at San Lorenzo, and high-defined details of stone inlays,
counting the names of the stones.



"So, we'll meet then, right? Let's say 7 p.m. at entrance C?"

Tristano nodded. Luca could had sworn that there was a sparkle in his eyes,
though it might be a sun's reflection that came through the covered
windows. Suddenly he felt a wet sting on his neck. He turned and saw the
stupidly grinning face of Raniero playing with a plastic straw. "Faggot" he
mouthed and throw him a folded note. Luca caught it. "Another victim?" it
read. Luca crumpled it and put it into the pockets of his jeans. Tristano
gave him a questioning look but Luca shook his head.



"These are the steps of an inlay picture. To the left side you see the
finished model." Coppo pointed to a bunch of multicoloured flowers. "In the
middle is the drawing model every one of you will have to make as a
start. To the right are the suiting stones. Our first task is to get a
feeling for right colours. Match your supply of stones with the colours of
nature and you will see that everything is possible." Coppo peered over his
spectacles and searched for the reason of the noise. His eyes stuck on Luca
Montori who had turned his head.

Coppo cleared his throat and Luca's head whipped back. Raniero couldn't
hide his plastic straw and Coppo sighed. Once in a while parents sent him
their kids who weren't suitable at all for the skilful task that was taught
in this workshop. Certainly Raniero belonged to them, despite that he had
managed the enrolment test.

Coppo leaned his hip at the teacher's desk and focussed on the lad with the
cheesy skin. "Ragazzi", he started low. "If anybody is among you who
doesn't want to be here, then I am the last person to stop him or her from
leaving. This workshop is honourable and the task will be difficult. It
requires love and devotion. So, please, leave your private problems out of
this room, d'accordo?"

Fifteen heads nodded, but Luca bent his head. That fun was to come, he
thought. But he was determined to stand up against intolerance, even if the
cost was high. He was just angry that here was another one besides Dante
who wouldn't leave him the way he was.

When Coppo hurried them out for dinner break he caught Luca's sleeve. "Just
one word, Luca", he said, taking off his glasses, pinching his eyes. He
looked tired. "Any problems? It's between you and me and nothing that is
said will leave this room."

Luca's eyes widened but he regained confidence very quickly. "There's
nothing, Professore."



"It's Coppo", Coppo reminded him.

"Well, there's nothing I won't solve by myself. I really like your lessons
and I'm eager to start with a real task." Luca tried a grin.

Coppo examined him seriously. "One after the other, Luca. Your father and I
started our apprenticeship in the same class. He outdid me, so there was
nothing left for me but to become a teacher, while he became the master of
the stone cutters and then the leader of the inlay workers."



"But you are professore and my father isn't", Luca objected.

Coppo laughed friendly. "But that's not important. I was better with theory
and your father with his hands. It means nothing."

Luca smiled at the obvious understatement. "Um, Coppo, what did you have to
learn to become a professore. I mean, I have a friend who starts his study
at Pisa."



"Ah, Pisa! I've studied there too. History of Art. I wanted a
background. And geology, also a few semesters archaeology."

"My friend is studying History of Art too. He wants to become a
guide. Working in a museum perhaps."

"An early decision about which direction he likes to chose would be
useful", Coppo said. Then he nodded to the door. "I guess there's someone
waiting for you."

Luca saw Tristano lounging outside the room and his face lit up. Coppo
patted his arm. "Enjoy your meal."





"What did he want?" Tristano asked excited. They went down the staircase
and joined the others at the cantina, standing in a row.

"Apparently he had noticed, that there was something between me and
Raniero." His eyes searched the room and found Raniero sitting and gobbling
up his spaghetti like a pig. Disgusted Luca turned away.

"What is between you and Raniero?"

Luca hesitated. He couldn't tell him the reason. But then... what the
hell. "He's envious."



"Envious? What about?"

Luca sighed impatiently. His stomach growled. "Do you know Alessandro di
Gondi-Lucertola?"



"Sure. He was beaten up lately on the streets at night."

"Right. I was with him that evening. I mean, I'm friends with him."

Tristano's blue eyes stared at him. "Wow, aren't you shy with that guy? He
certainly outclasses us."



"Ah, Tris, you show the same class prejudices that separates us from people
like him. He's human, nothing more." And he wipes his ass at the loo the
same way we do, as his father had told him many times, Luca thought
chuckling.

"But, I mean, wow... he's so... he has a bad reputation." Tristano eyed
Luca, apparently not knowing what to make of Luca now. "And that is the
reason Raniero is envious?" he asked not very convinced.

"Well, he thinks I'm a scrounger who made friends with a noble man to
receive many benefits."

"Like what?" It was Tristano's turn to receive his plate with spaghetti and
another with a schnitzel and vegetables.

Luca shrugged and took his own plates. What was he to tell him? The gift of
an opera-evening, receive the precious Gondi-cross and clothes he would
have to work some years for if he bought them by himself?

Raniero grinned nastily when he and Tristano passed his table to sit at
another, constantly peering at him and laughing his ass off. Luca moaned
and rolled his eyes. Best to ignore him.



*



The letters "Artemio Franchi" were beaming over the stadium's entrance, but
Luca had difficulty finding his way. He was here for the first time. It was
Rosso who had told him that there would be an entrance 'C' everybody wanted
to meet in front of.

Fans of both clubs - AC Firenze and AS Monaco - stood in groups, drinking,
laughing and bitching at each other from aside. Guards had separated them
and lead them to difference entrances.



"Oh no, the faggot again!" he suddenly heard a familiar voice behind his
back. There was a harsh tap on his shoulder. "Since when faggots are
interested in football? And where did you leave your stabber actually?

Raniero was draped with blue-white shawls around his neck and hanging from
his baggy trousers and he sipped from his beer bottle. Behind his sneering,
pale face, appeared a few more with similarly stupid expressions. Luca
didn't know what to answer. He tried to evade and to vanish among the swarm
of fans, but Raniero followed on his heels. "You can surely tell me, or the
whole class will know."

Luca whirled around. "What will the class know? That you're an idiot? I can
arrange that."



"Gosh, a faggot with a courage!" Somehow Raniero wasn't intimidated nor
could Luca shake him off. Desperate Luca tried to fight his way through
entrance C until he finally saw Rosso's fire red hair. He waved. Luca
slipped like a lizard through the fans where suddenly Tristano appeared,
tugging at his sleeve. Luca panted a little. Cheering sounded behind him,
coming from the blocks of fans, and hoarse battle songs. He regretted
coming here. This was certainly not his cup of tea. But Tristano grinned at
him and pointed to his side. "That's Isolde, my sister." Isolde, blond as
her brother with coal-black eyes and a scarf draped around her waist,
beamed. She obviously enjoyed the riot. "Tristano and Isolde?" Luca
couldn't resist his tease and Tristano rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we've had
enough of that, thanks."

Rosso still waved and pulled him closer finally. "What took you so long?
And where's your scarf?"



"Scarf?" Luca asked stupidly and Rosso strangled him almost with his spare
one. "Much better", he said. "Come on, Giuliano and Micky are already in."

"What's your seat number?" Luca asked Tristano and noticed they weren't
that much apart from each other. Together they were herded through the
entrance where guards frisked the rucksacks and bags for fireworks and
bottles. With glee he saw from the corner of his eyes, that Raniero and his
louts were relieved of both of them and he rushed to follow his friends.

The stadium was an oval bowl with flat seats, forming at the opposite side
the writing "AC Fiorentina". The main stand was covered and despite the
prices almost filled with people. Luca's heart started to beat fast when
dusk fell and the first of blue-white fireworks started among the
crowd. The opposite party answered with red smoke and when the stadium
speaker announced the players he was as excited as the others
were. Tristano and Isolde had changed their seats and sat now next to him,
but to his annoyance Raniero and his buddies were right behind.

Through Giuliano's binoculars he followed the ebony-skinned Nonda in his
red-white shorts and he didn't care that he belonged to the opposite
team. His home club was hopelessly defeated anyway. When the first goal
fell for Monaco an ear deafening thunder clap went through the stadium,
coming from the stand, and he heard Raniero cursing sharply.



"What an eye catcher", slipped out of Luca's lips, as he followed Fernando
Morientes' fast speed over the field, dark hair blowing in the
wind. Immediately he sensed the stares from his friends. "Woo, Luca, gioia,
you haven't joint the sweeties, have you?" Giuliano fluttered his eyelashes
at him, and Luca tried to hide his blush - in vain. They all laughed and
patted his shoulders.

"That's alright, Luca," Rosso said, "I would give everything to have such a
tight ass as Morientes has."

Luca joined in their laughter, but thought he caught an odd look from
Tristano. He couldn't sort it out, he just hoped that he wasn't thinking
Luca was gay and despised him for being that. But then he saw his laughter
and was eased.

 The time was almost over when Fiorentina was four goals behind and there
wasn't much hope for the return match next week. People streamed out of the
stadium, and a large whistling and booing rang in Luca's ears. Raniero had
vanished. He saw him minutes later standing on the staircase parting groups
of fans, where he tried to light a flag. His buddies helped him and in no
time a fire was burning. Police came rushing, but then Luca saw the
sneering face looking directly in his direction. A rocket shot at him and
he was too slow. It detonated between the crowd, showering them with
burning sparkles. People screamed and whirled around, trying to extinguish
their burning clothes.

Luca's hair had caught fire. Tristano hectically tried to cover it with his
shawl. A biting stench hung in the air and a panicking crowd tripped over
each other to the exits. Police and guards hastened to Raniero and his
gang, who was still standing, laughing and interested in following what
happened. Giuliano lay on the ground, coughing badly, while Michele patted
his back; Isolde's jeans were scorched like her scarf.

The stadium speaker admonished calmness. Luca sat upon his seat, let the
crowd pass and fumbled with his hair. One side of it was scorched and
smelled nastily and his jacket was riddled with holes.

The culprit had been lead off and calmness returned. An ambulance man came
through the rows, stopping by Luca. "Everybody alright?" Luca pointed to
Giuliano who was still coughing badly. After a quick examination Giuliano
was taken away and the rest of his friends followed. He was brought into a
tent.



"That's really much fun", Luca squeezed out.

"Sorry, buddy", Rosso said. "I hadn't thought it would be that way."

"Did you see, it was Raniero", Tristano said. "Bastardo."

"Raniero? Do you know him?" Rosso asked.

"Sure, he's our class mate."

"Congratulations. I don't know about you guys, but I need a drink to wash
my throat." They left Michele with Giuliano and looked for a stand offering
tramezzini and drinks. Isolde took a handkerchief and wiped Luca's
face. "You really look funny", she said. "Guess only a barber will help."

Shit, Luca thought. Sandro is coming and you look a drooling yokel.

"Ah, nonsense", Rosso chimed in, opening a water bottle. "It's not that
bad, Luca. A bit has to be cut off, that's all."

They all watched fans streaming through the exits, howling and whistling,
and it would be a long party for all the fans of AS Monaco.

"If she saw it on TV Caro will worry, don't you think?" Isolde said to her
brother.

Tristano pulled a face. "She never watches football, and this shit happens
every time."

"Caro?" Luca asked.

"My girlfriend, I told you." He eyed the police car standing
alongside. Probably Raniero was in there, being interrogated. Perhaps this
would be enough to get him expelled from school.

Clarissa raised her hands up when she saw Luca coming home. She lamented
about this football crap and the fans especially and chided Luca that he
had gone there.

"Dante's always going and you don't chide him", Luca protested.

"Basta. Sit down here." She took a scissor and furtively cut the tips of
Luca's hair, while combing it. "You look like a negro. Wash your face
then."

Luca trotted into the bath and looked at himself in the mirror. Rosso was
right, it wasn't that bad, now the scorched strands had vanished. He had a
smoky line under his eyes and across his face and his clothes stunk
badly. The jacket was torn anyway.

He dropped his clothes and stepped into the bath tub. Clarissa had made a
fire, so the water was warm when it washed away the remains of that unhappy
evening.