Michele - 2. Chapter 2

The next morning dawned a crystal blue. Michele rose early, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and stepped out onto the sun terrace wearing just the t-shirt and underpants he had slept in. He stretched in the fresh morning air. It was refreshingly cool for the moment, and Michele relished the feeling of it on his bare arms and legs, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

All was quiet apart from the occasional putter of a scooter along the road beneath him. The morning sun was already glinting off the sparse waves of the calm sea far below. The cicadas in the terraced plantations below the road had got off to an early start, and Michele could hear their distant scraping drifting up from beyond the railings. He glanced up as a small group of swifts flew overhead, uttering their shrill summer cries as they hunted for insects.

Normally on a day like this, Michele would have been looking forward to a morning spent outside with his best friend, but not today. His shoulders sagged as he remembered his appointment with Enzo.

‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ Enzo had said.

It would be better just to get on with it. Michele turned and slipped back inside to take a shower.

* * *

Once Michele’s mother had set off on her journey to work, he locked up the house and reluctantly made the long climb back into town. He wondered where Toto was now, and whether he had gone home at all after his bust-up with his father.

There was no sign of Toto in the square, and Michele was thankful; he didn’t think he could face his friend just yet. The thought of running into him brought hot embarrassment to his face once again, as he tried to imagine what he would say.

Hey, Toto, I’m sorry I shouted at you like that and pushed you away?

Or maybe he would just push him away again.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he made his way between the early morning visitors, catching snatches of conversation as he passed: mostly boring conversations about their plans for the day ahead, or occasionally a private joke; nothing of any consequence.

Just people living their normal lives. Boring, normal lives where teenage boys don’t kiss their best friends.

He crossed in front of the cathedral and threaded his way along Via Roma, the narrow alleyway lined with little shops that wound through the centre of the town. The shopkeepers were already setting up colourful outdoor displays of local ceramics, clothes, wines and other gifts. He passed Salvatore’s grocery store, where Toto’s father stood on his own as usual, looking tired and, if possible, even more uptight than usual. Their eyes met briefly, and Michele hurried on.

He passed a building that was being converted to a restaurant. The owners were on site already, obviously looking to get an early start to the day’s construction work before the weather got too hot. A young woman in a summer dress stood at the entrance, inventorying a pallet of materials that must just have been delivered.

After passing the last of the shops that lined the narrow street, Michele reached a slightly wider area where a handful of scooters and cars were parked against a high stone wall. Three familiar figures were gathered there. Largest and meanest-looking was Enzo, today wearing a leather jacket. He was flanked by his two usual sidekicks: the smartly dressed but weak-chinned Filippo and the dim-witted, long-haired Antonio. For years now, these two had made up for their collective lack of brains by sucking up to the toughest kid in school and becoming his loyal yes-men, which Michele supposed showed a sort of low cunning.

Enzo put on a show of being pleased to see Michele. “All right, you came,” he said with a hearty smile. “We’re going to make a man of you today.”

Filippo and Antonio chortled.

“Ciao,” Michele replied, trying his best to sound cool and unworried.

“Enzo, look,” Filippo said suddenly, pointing at something down the street.

A tired and distracted-looking Toto was walking up the street towards town, accompanied by a young man in work clothes whom Michele recognised at once. Toto’s eyes were downcast, and he had not yet spotted Michele. Michele slipped quietly to the back of the group, propping himself up against the high stone wall behind them. The three older boys watched the duo pass by in silence.

“What’s Toto doing with one of the queer boys?” Enzo hissed. “He’s really crossed the line.”

“I bet they’ve been playing with each other,” Antonio interjected. “Probably all three of them together.”

“I didn’t need that image, thanks, Toni,” Enzo replied grimly.

Michele said nothing. The sight of his friend had brought the same confused feelings rushing back in, and he wondered how on Earth he could have got himself into this situation.

When Toto was safely out of sight, Michele breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived: his friend reappeared a few moments later, alone this time and apparently lost in thought. With his eyes still fixed on the ground, he still didn’t seem to have noticed the other boys.

Enzo broke the silence. “Hey, it’s Toto the fairy,” he jeered.

Toto looked up sharply and Michele saw a flash of fear in his eyes. Michele knew he couldn’t avoid being spotted now and cast his own gaze hurriedly down, not wanting to make eye contact.

“What were you doing with Angelo Rossi, Toto?” Enzo mocked. “Looking for a new boyfriend? Sorry, but I heard that queer boy is taken.”

Michele looked up again – he couldn’t help it.

“Shut up,” Toto said quietly, backing up towards the far wall.

“Or what? You’ll tell your father?” Enzo laughed.

The look of fear in Toto’s eyes was beginning to be replaced by something else. He had balled his hands into fists. Michele’s heart sank.

Don’t, Toto, please. Just walk away!

“SHUT UP!” Toto shouted. Colour had risen to his cheeks and he looked ready to fight Enzo, even though Michele knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Thankfully, help arrived at that moment.

“Hey, look, it’s the captain of the moron squad,” said a new voice.

A girl of about Enzo’s age had appeared on the scene. She was pretty, Michele thought. She had dark brown eyes and a long plait of black hair that ran down her back. She was dressed in casual clothes that emphasised her growing figure.

Both Toto and Enzo glanced in her direction. Toto looked at her without recognition, but Enzo’s manner changed at once into something more polite and gentlemanly.

“Oh, ciao, Claudia,” Enzo replied.

The girl called Claudia seemed unimpressed. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” she said offhandedly. “Or better still, get lost and take your lame-brained crew with you.”

Enzo shrugged, and something of his usual sour and scornful demeanour returned. “Whatever. We were going anyway. Saddle up, Michele.”

Enzo took a seat behind the handlebars of one of the Vespa scooters. Miserably, still avoiding Toto’s eyes, Michele swung onto the saddle behind the older boy and grabbed onto his waist. Enzo fired up the scooter’s rattly engine and backed out into the middle of the street. Gunning the throttle, he made for the exit, with Filippo and Antonio in hot pursuit.

* * *

They came out onto the main road down into the valley and immediately turned off onto a tree-lined street that climbed gently up again. Beyond the trees, the view across the sun-drenched valley to Scala scrolled by. After a few moments they arrived at a small square where a fountain trickled in front of the arched façade of a small hotel. Enzo coasted to a halt, the others falling in behind.

“Hey look,” Enzo said with a nasty smile. “It’s the queer boys’ cat!”

A large tabby cat was perched on a low concrete wall at the side of the square that overlooked the valley, washing its paws. It glanced up as they approached.

Enzo dug a hand into the pocket of his jacket and produced a bottle cap; one of the crown-like ones with sharp edges. He took aim.

“Don’t,” Michele whispered.

“What’s the matter, Michele?” Enzo challenged him. “Are you going soft on us already?”

Enzo flicked the bottle cap at the cat with his full strength. It struck the cat hard on its left flank. The animal fled with a loud hiss and a flick of its bushy tail. Michele looked on in dismay while the others laughed sycophantically.

Snorting in disdain, Enzo twisted the throttle and they were off again. Passing the fountain, they were swallowed up by buildings as they clattered loudly up a narrow alleyway. Passers-by pressed themselves against the walls in the narrow space, gesticulating and protesting loudly as the three scooters barged past.

Before long they had broken free of the buildings and were thundering along a lane that climbed gently along the lower slopes of Monte Brusara, the tree-crowned mountain that stood at the head of the valley between Ravello and Scala. Michele glanced down the green and rocky valley, seeing the two towns spread out below them and the distant sea beyond. The mountainous scenery enveloped Michele impassively, offering no relief to his situation as they sped on to destinations unknown.

After a while, they had driven as far as the narrow lane would allow, and they parked the scooters next to the last of the houses and cultivated slopes. Enzo led them up a short flight of steps and onto a dusty path leading into the woods of the upper valley.

Soon they had reached a spot where a few broken concrete steps led up to a cluster of old agricultural sheds. They had a tumbledown look, crudely fashioned of concrete blocks and rusty corrugated iron with patches of older stonework.

Two girls were waiting in the entrance to one of the buildings. They appeared to be about Enzo’s age or slightly younger. They had undone the top few buttons of their blouses and looked excited and giggly. Michele looked on in slowly dawning horror.

“Keep watch,” Enzo instructed Michele.

Michele stood back impotently as the three older boys filed into the building. He felt relieved at being left out, but infuriated at the same time.

I guess I’m just the kid in the room.

Turning his back on the tatty buildings, he sank down onto the broken concrete steps and stared miserably down the lane. He tried to ignore the voices, laughs and other sounds coming from the buildings behind him and tried to rid himself of the seedy mental image of the two girls sharing the attentions of Enzo and his two halfwit henchmen.

Thanks a lot, Toto, he thought bitterly. He propped his chin in his hands, hating his old friend a little for bringing him to this.

As Michele sat, the wildlife began to stir around him. Lizards emerged from the undergrowth and began to bask in the dappled sun, fixing Michele with their beady black eyes. A few cicadas could be heard among the olive trees back by the last houses. A little further up the path, Michele watched as a small snake slithered its way across the patches of earth and concrete as it made its way to new feeding grounds.

Michele lost track of time in the soporific heat. After while, he heard a voice behind him.

“Psst! Michele”

Enzo had reappeared at the door. He had managed to lose his jacket, his hair was messed up and he was looking very pleased with himself.

“There’s room for one more,” Enzo said. “Come and have a taste.”

Michele blanched. “I…” he said nervously. “No… I’m okay thanks.”

Enzo shook his head scornfully.

“Scared, are you?”

“No!” Michele lied. “I’m just… fine here.”

“Kids,” Enzo said in disgust, and disappeared back into the building.

* * *

When the girls had had enough, they set off back down the lane, giggling and hastily putting their clothing back together. Michele watched them go, wishing with a sick sort of feeling that he could just disappear with them – be he knew that Enzo would never allow it.

Enzo, Filippo and Antonio slouched out of the building a few moments later with their clothing disarranged, each one looking very smug. Even Filippo, who was usually so smartly dressed and immaculately coiffed, looked a bit dishevelled.

“Lovely girls,” Enzo said in mock admiration as the three of them sat down, “even if they are easier than a piss in the morning.”

Filippo and Antonio hooted with obedient laughter.

“Yeah, Michele, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Filippo put in.

“No,” Enzo said, flicking a hand dismissively, “Michele just doesn’t want to waste his time on trash, do you, Michele?” He narrowed his eyes. “That is, unless you actually do prefer grocers’ boys?”

Michele flushed. “Shut up!” he protested, shaking his head.

“That’s my boy,” Enzo said approvingly, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Will we be going back soon?” Michele asked hopefully.

“Why, aren’t you enjoying hanging out with us?” Enzo said, a little dangerously.

“I…”

Enzo laughed harshly. “I’m just messing with you. No, we’re not done here just yet.”

Enzo reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and produced a spray can, which he placed into Michele’s puzzled hand.

“I think these buildings look dull,” Enzo said, gesturing at the old agricultural sheds. “I’d like you to brighten them up a bit.”

Michele stood, looking anxiously from the spray can in his hand to the tatty old buildings. “But…”

“Come on,” Enzo soothed. “Nobody will know it was you.”

“Yeah, come on, Michele,” Antonio echoed, his normally dull eyes gleaming with excitement.

Michele took a few faltering steps up towards the buildings while the three older boys reclined casually on the path. “But… I don’t know what to write,” he said lamely.

“All right, I’ll help you,” Enzo said. “How about… ‘queer boys out’?”

Michele shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I’m not…”

“Write it,” Enzo said evenly.

Michele blinked heavily and rubbed his eyes. Sensing that he had no choice, he turned back to the buildings, popped the lid off the can and began to write.

Gaudy red paint sprayed out of the nozzle, leaving his garish message splashed across the concrete.

Enzo clapped slowly three times. “Good work, Michele,” he said. “Anything else, boys?”

Filippo chortled. “How about… ‘gays will burn’?”

Enzo shrugged. “A bit religious for my liking, but whatever. Write it, Michele. Toni?”

Antonio mulled this over while a reluctant Michele completed the second message. “I’ve got this,” he said, rising to his feet and taking the can from Michele.

Michele stepped back and watched helplessly as Antonio sprayed a third hideous message.

Toto Friuli likes it rough.

At this, the other two older boys fell about laughing.

“You are one sick boy, Toni,” Enzo said.

* * *

A while later, Enzo delivered Michele back to town, dropping him off a short way down from the main cathedral square.

Michele was glad it was all over. In the hope of making a clean break from it all, he decided to try to seem appreciative.

“Thanks for taking me out, Enzo,” he said. “I think I learned a lot today.”

Enzo grinned nastily. “You’re welcome, Michele,” he replied, “but we’re not done here. We have big plans for you. I’ll be back for you in a couple of days.”

And with a mocking cry of “Ciao!” he gunned the throttle of his scooter once more and set off down the road, leaving a speechless Michele staring after him with his heart somewhere in the region of his ankles.

Once Enzo was out of sight, he turned and dragged his feet up the leafy avenue leading to the square, a new wave of shame coursing through him at what he had been a part of that morning. The image of those garish red letters sprayed onto the tatty old buildings seemed to be seared into his mind.

Passing under the ruins of an old stone palazzo and reaching the corner of the square, Michele stopped in his tracks. Toto and the girl called Claudia were sitting at a table outside one of the bars on the far side of the large sunny space, enjoying an early lunch. Compared to how he had been when they had encountered each other briefly this morning, Toto even seemed quite cheerful.

How is this fair?

Michele had not yet been spotted. Glancing down at his hands, he saw traces of the red spray paint still there, and his momentary incredulity was replaced with crushing guilt.

Michele turned and slunk back down the avenue. He would find a different way to walk home.

* * *

“Are you all right, Michele?”

“Huh?”

It was late that evening, and Michele and his mother had been sharing a quick dinner of pasta with tomato and aubergines. Michele had been lost in thought, but realised now that he must have been sitting there in silence for some time, pushing his food vacantly around his plate.

“You’re very quiet tonight,” his mother smiled.

Michele gave her a pained look. How could he tell her now? It seemed like several lines had been crossed in the last twenty-four hours.

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “I’m just… very tired.”

Michele’s mother gave him a concerned look. “Try to get an early night,” she suggested. “Maybe it’s the weather. It’s been so hot this week.”

“Thanks, Mamma,” Michele said. “I will.”

When he had finished helping his mother wash up, he escaped to the privacy of his bedroom and breathed a sigh of relief.

Somehow, everything had changed. He didn’t think he liked it.