Love & Gelato(26)

He slowed for a red light, then turned to look at me. “You look great. We’re wearing the same thing.”

“Yeah, but you look . . .”

“What?”

“Cooler.”

He tipped his head back so our helmets clacked. “Thanks.”





Chapter 9




THE DRIVE TO ELENA’S HOUSE took forever. For-ev-er. By the time Ren signaled to pull off the main road, my legs were going numb.

“Almost there.”

“Finally. I thought we were driving to France or something.”

“Wrong direction. Hold tight.”

He accelerated and we sped up a long, tree-lined driveway. Where were we? I hadn’t seen a single house or building in more than ten minutes.

“Just wait for it. Three . . . two . . .”

We rounded the corner and I exploded. “What?”

“I know. Crazy, right?”

“That’s a house? Does anyone live in normal places here?”

“What? You don’t know people who live in gingerbread houses back home?”

Elena’s villa was a palace. The house was several stories high, and huge—like museum huge—with towers that rose on either side of a large arched doorway. I started to count all the windows, then gave up. It was that big.

Ren slowed down, navigating around a large circular fountain that sat in the center of the tennis-court-size driveway. Then we bumped off the pavement to park next to a bunch of other scooters. My mouth was as dry as the Sahara. Eating churros in Dylan’s basement was really more my speed.

“You okay?” Ren asked, catching my eye.

I gave him the world’s most unconvincing nod, then followed him past a wall of sculpted hedges to the sort of door you imagined angry villagers storming with torches and battering rams. I was about three seconds from throwing up.

Ren nudged me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” I took a deep breath. “So . . . how many people live here?”

“Three. Elena, her mom, and her older sister, when she’s home from boarding school. Elena told me there are rooms that she’s never even set foot in, and she and her mom sometimes go days without even seeing each other. They have an intercom system so they don’t have to walk across the house every time they want to talk to each other.”

“Are you serious?”

“Totally serious. I’ve never even seen her mom. There are theories she doesn’t actually exist. Also, this place is ridiculously haunted. Elena sees a ghost like once a day.” He pushed hard on a brass doorbell and there was a loud clanging noise.

“Do you believe that? About ghosts?”

He shrugged. “Elena does. She passes the ghost of her great-great-grandmother Alessandra on the stairwell every night.”

Ghosts had never made sense to me. When my mom was gone, she was just gone. I’d give anything for it to be otherwise.

Suddenly a loud banging noise made me shriek. I stumbled back and Ren caught me.

“Relax. It’s just the door. It takes a long time to unlock it.”

After what felt like ten minutes, the door slowly creaked open and I took a step back, half expecting to be greeted by Great-great-grandmother Alessandra. Instead, a casually dressed teenage girl stepped into the doorway. She was curvy with a diamond stud in her nose and thick black hair.

“Ciao, Lorenzo!” She threw her arms around Ren and pressed her cheek to his, making a kissing noise. “Dove sei stato? Mi sei mancato.”

“Ciao, Elena. Mi sei mancata anche tu.” Ren stepped back, then gestured to me. “Guess who this is?”

She switched from Italian to English as quickly as Ren did. “Who? You must tell me immediately.”

“Carolina.”

Her mouth dropped open into a perfect O. “You’re Carolina?”

“Yes. But I just go by Lina.”

“Non è possibile! Come!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside, kicking the door shut behind her. The foyer looked like something out of a Scooby-Doo episode. The hall was dimly lit with a few electric sconces, and tapestries and old-looking paintings covered every inch of wall, and wait—was that a suit of armor? Elena was looking at me.

“Your house is really—”

“Yes, yes. Creepy. Spooky scary. I know. Now come with me.” She linked her elbow with mine, then dragged me down the hall. “They will be so surprised. You wait.”

At the end of the hallway she opened a set of double doors, then shoved me inside. The room was a lot more modern-looking, with a jet-size leather sectional, a big-screen TV, and a foosball table. Oh, and twenty people. Give or take. And they were all looking at me like something that had managed to escape from the zoo.

I gulped. “Um, hi, everyone.”

Elena took my hand and held it triumphantly in the air. “Vi presento, Carolina. Ragazzi, she exists!”

A collective cheer went up in the room and suddenly I was being swarmed.

“You are here. You are really here!” A tall boy with a French accent patted my arm enthusiastically. “I am Olivier. Welcome.”

“I won the bet! They all said you’d never show.”

“Better late than never.”

“Che bella sorpresa!”