The Summer of the Selfless - 1. Chapter 1

“Catch, Dani!”

Daniele glanced up just in time to see the football powering towards him. His blue eyes widened in shock as the ball drove into his arms which, miraculously, were already outstretched and waiting. Thrown off-balance, he fell backwards, landing on his bottom in the sand, blinking in total surprise.

In the shallows, his friends Giacomo, Emilia and Luca dissolved into giggles.

“Where were you?” Giacomo panted, once he had managed to draw breath.

“I…” Daniele replied, dull heat rising to his cheeks. He thought perhaps his mind had slipped back a few months. Maybe it was the sight of his best friend in just his swimming shorts.

“It’s too late,” Luca remarked to the others. “Dani’s fourteen now. He’s finally turned into a proper, sleepy teenager.”

“What, overnight?” Emilia asked, raising one wry eyebrow.

The green-eyed boy grinned. “Too right. I bet you his parents won’t even be able to get him out of bed tomorrow.”

Emilia put her hands on her hips. “You’ve been fourteen since the autumn, Luca. Did you have trouble waking up this morning?”

Luca gave her an exaggerated shrug. “You tell me, ‘milia. You were there, after all.”

Emilia blushed scarlet. “No, I was not! You’re such a liar!”

Laughing, Luca set off through the shallows, with Emilia splashing along in pursuit, the spring sun catching the neon blue of her two-piece swimsuit and sparkling off one of her metallic hairclips.

Daniele set the football down and scrunched his toes into the grey volcanic sand. It was a bright May afternoon, too soon in the year for the bars to have taken over the beach completely. All the same, the sand was already warm to the touch under the influence of the fierce, late spring sun. The sky was a vivid blue, the great expanse of the Tyrrhenian Sea even more so. It lapped gently at the shore, rippling in the most delicate of sea breezes.

Minori was one of the smaller resorts on the Amalfi coast. At the top of the sandy beach stood a sun-drenched promenade lined with palm and pine trees, backed by a row of tall shops, cafés and old palazzi with weathered stonework, rendered in sun-faded shades of cream or pale salmon pink. A scattered stream of cars and Vespa scooters made their way back and forth along the busy coast road. Visitors of all shapes and sizes came and went from the shopfronts, imbuing the place with a buzz of life even though it was still the quieter end of the tourist season.

However, even the grander buildings of the town were dwarfed by the rugged landscape that soared around them. The low rocky cliffs that flanked the beach turned into steep mountain slopes surmounted by great, tree-crowned peaks. The hillsides were steeply terraced, shored up with old stone retaining walls, lined with ancient olive groves and lemon orchards in varying states of cultivation or disrepair. Dotted with a mix of old farmhouses, tumbledown ruins and smart modern villas, the terraces snaked around the contours of the landscape as if it were a model made of balsa wood. On a high ridge to the west, Daniele could just make out the whitewashed buildings of his hometown of Ravello, a high and airy place that commanded unparalleled views over the sea and valleys in every direction.

Giacomo wandered over and sat down next to Daniele, heedless of the sand that clung to his bright red shorts, which were already wet from the sea. Daniele gave him a sideways look, uncomfortably aware of every lithe angle and curve of his growing figure, and drew his arms around his knees in a gesture of self-protection.

He sighed inwardly.

Aren’t you ever going to get over this? Act normal!

“Happy birthday, Dani,” Giacomo said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Daniele replied, forcing himself to look away. “Fourteen seems like a big number.”

“I wish I was fourteen,” the dark-eyed boy grumbled. “I have to wait another two months.”

Daniele snickered. “Sorry for being older than you.” He shrugged. “But what difference does it make, really?”

“Well,” Giacomo said nonchalantly, “it means Claudia Rossi could finally cradle-snatch you and it would be completely legal.”

Their eyes returned to each other for a moment, then they both fell about laughing.

“Eew!” Daniele cried. “C’mon, Giaco!”

“Come on, you know she has the big L-O-V-E for you.”

“She’s just teasing!” Daniele protested. “She’s, like, twenty years old.”

Giacomo grinned. “Don’t all the best deceptions start with a grain of truth?”

Daniele rolled his eyes. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Giacomo shrugged, seemingly completely unfazed by his remark, and there was a moment’s comfortable silence between them. The friendly banter had helped to take Daniele’s mind off his more confusing feelings, at least for the moment.

“Isn’t it cool, though?” Giacomo asked after a while, casting his dark eyes around the beach. “Everyone’s here.”

Daniele nodded. “Except Papà.”

“Well, someone has to keep driving all those wealthy tourists around the coast.”

He wasn’t wrong, Daniele reflected. Most of his family and friends had turned out to celebrate his birthday. Scattered around the beach, they had formed little groups of their own, but everyone seemed to be at least partially aware of what everyone else was doing. From time to time a shouted word was exchanged, or a friendly gesture offered in response.

Daniele’s mother Patrizia was stretched out on a beach towel with Giacomo’s mother Elena. They had positioned themselves some distance away, probably hoping not to cramp their sons’ style, and were chatting cheerfully to one other. Closer at hand, Daniele’s other best friend, Marco, had taken a break from the fun and games and was resting with his new guardians Gianni and Angelo, who were crouched around a camping stove. Marco’s young foster fathers seemed to be regaling him with an amusing story of some kind, maybe recounting some of their own adventures on this same beach. Emilia and Luca were busily splashing each other with seawater a short distance away.

Towards the other end of the beach, a small group of older teens were huddled around a smartphone, engaged in a video call with someone. Toto had his arm around his boyfriend Michele’s shoulders, while their mutual friend Isabella sat on Michele’s other side, craning her neck so they could all squeeze into view of the camera. The spring sun formed a bright star in the lenses of her polarised sunglasses, which she had perched for a moment on top of her dark hair, the better to see whomever they were talking to.

Finally, some distance beyond the older teens, in a world of their own, little Sami Farzan and his adoptive parents Reza and Tiziana were playing catch in the shallows with a colourful beach ball. Daniele had rescued the little boy from the sea himself the previous summer. As recently as few months ago, Daniele supposed Sami would have been afraid to go anywhere near the sea… but under the determined care of his new parents he seemed to be blossoming. There was certainly no trace of fear in the cheerful shouts and giggles that were drifting across the beach over the clatter of the passing Vespa scooters and the insistent lapping of the waves.

“And, this time last year,” Daniele said, “you were running criminal errands for the Neri family. Isn’t this better?”

Giacomo smiled. “Until you came along and saved me,” he replied. “I’ve never been so glad to have a stalker.”

“Stalker?” Daniele repeated, offering the other boy a slightly incredulous stare.

Giacomo snickered. “Well… you have to admit…”

“I was not stalking you!” Daniele protested, giving the other boy a playful shove.

“Well, what would you call it?” Giacomo asked, bracing himself against the sand with an elbow and returning the gesture. “Following me secretly… spying on me as I went about my criminal ways. Not at all creepy.”

“Cool,” Daniele replied, giving the other boy an earnest look. “I’ve never been a creep before.”

Giacomo put an arm around his shoulder. “Only kidding,” he smiled. “You know I…”

“Love me, yeah, I know,” Daniele sighed.

He was playing along, but in truth he didn’t want to hear the other boy say it, and he turned away for a second. Giacomo had said those words before, and Daniele still wasn’t sure what he meant by them.

As he did so, he caught Toto’s eye for a moment, and the older boy beckoned to him with his free hand.

“Come on over, Dani,” he called. “Someone wants to say ‘hi’ to you!”

Curiously, Daniele hopped to his feet and wandered over. Giacomo followed a few paces behind, waiting for permission to approach.

Michele passed Daniele the phone. Holding the screen out in front of him, Daniele found himself face-to-face with a confident-looking young woman with long black hair and very dark eyes.

“Ciao, Claudia!” he said.

Claudia grinned. “Happy birthday, cutie. Sorry I couldn’t make it back for your party, but I’m stuck here at Uni until July.”

Daniele smiled. “It’s all right.”

From behind Daniele, there was an amused snicker.

“Cutie,” Giacomo repeated. “Told you so.”

Spotting the other boy over Daniele’s shoulder, Claudia’s dark eyes gleamed with mischief.

“Wait a minute,” she said, “is that Giacomo?”

Daniele nodded. “Yep.”

Drawn by the unexpected mention of his name, the other boy came closer, standing behind Daniele’s shoulder with an expression of faint surprise.

“Ciao, other cutie,” Claudia said, grinning mercilessly. “I almost didn’t recognise you without your trendy clothes on.”

Now it was Giacomo’s turn to look a little flustered; Daniele suppressed a laugh, enjoying watching Claudia torment someone else for once.

“Ah…” Giacomo said lamely, suddenly taken out of his comfort zone.

“Anyway, I wanted a word with you. I know you’re both nearly finished with middle school, and you must be pretty psyched about the summer.”

Daniele nodded. “That’s true.”

“So, I guess you’re going to be spending a lot of time together.” On the screen, Claudia narrowed her eyes at Giacomo in a vaguely threatening sort of way. “But don’t go breaking my Dani’s heart, okay? I want it whole and unbruised for our inevitable marriage.”

Giacomo stared at her, rendered uncharacteristically speechless, as Toto, Michele and Isabella all broke out into stifled laughter.

Claudia blew Daniele a kiss. “I’m going to talk to the others some more now, if you’ll hand me back over?”

Daniele laughed. “Thanks, Claudia,” he replied, passing the phone back to Michele.

“Well, you heard what she said,” Toto chuckled, glancing at Giacomo. “Be good.”

“I’ll be watching you,” Isabella added, pointing two fingers at her own eyes and then turning them on the dark-eyed boy with a deceptively innocent smile.

Still chuckling, Daniele turned away. Eyes wide, Giacomo followed.

“Wow,” he murmured. “Your friends are scary.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Daniele said. “Anyway,” he teased, “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything?”

Giacomo smirked. “Well, maybe some things. Rock climbing and criminal gangs I can do, but… I draw the line at older girls.”

“I draw the line at any girls,” Daniele replied.

Giacomo snickered. “Don’t I know it.”

At that moment, the splashing in the shallows intensified. Emilia had returned, pursued by Luca, who was waving a large, slimy-looking piece of seaweed at her.

“Giacomo, help me!” she cried desperately.

“Speaking of girls, I think I spy a damsel in distress,” Giacomo remarked, and he was off, tearing down the beach, diving into the waves and returning with his own large piece of seaweed. He stood to Emilia’s defence, protecting her from her boyfriend, brandishing the seaweed like a sword.

“En garde,” he commanded.

Daniele laughed as the two boys engaged in a pretend sword fight. Emilia cringed away, now getting splattered liberally with water from both pieces of seaweed.

Left on his own, Daniele mooched over to join Marco and flopped down next to him.

Marco offered Daniele a shy and rather hesitant smile as he joined him. The mousy-haired boy had always been inclined to melancholy but, in recent months, Daniele felt he had seen that rather sweet look more and more often. What a difference it made, Daniele reflected, to be cared for by parents who really saw you and understood what you needed.

Marco was smaller than either Daniele or Giacomo, even though he was between them in age. How much of the difference between them was down to the neglect Marco had suffered at the hands of his birth parents and how much of it was down to simple genetics, Daniele wasn’t sure, but his bare shoulders were narrower than either of theirs, his figure less muscled and defined.

Despite appearances, however, Marco had been aware of his own feelings for longer than either of them. At first, it was Giacomo that Marco had pined for, but these days…

“Ciao, Marco,” Daniele smiled.

Marco’s cool grey eyes flicked away again, and he seemed suddenly embarrassed. Daniele wondered whether he should put on a t-shirt to spare the smaller boy his blushes.

“Ciao, Dani,” Marco replied.

“What’s happening?” Daniele asked.

“Gianni and Angelo are trying to reheat pizza slices on a camping stove,” Marco observed.

The two adults, both in their mid-twenties, were still huddled around the stove with expressions of great concentration on their faces. The contents of the metal pan seemed to be smoking slightly.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Gianni said, mopping his brow and frowning at the burning pizza slice with his keen blue eyes, a legacy of his half-English father.

“…but I think there’s work to be done,” Angelo remarked, running a hand through his spiky black hair, fishing the smouldering pizza out of the pan with a pair of tongs.

“Maybe if we added just a little water first?” Gianni suggested.

“Mmm, steamed pizza,” Marco interjected. “Delizioso.”

He managed to shoot Daniele a quick glance, and they both giggled slightly.

Gianni gave Daniele a shamefaced smile. “Sorry, Dani. I bet your mamma knew exactly how difficult this would be when we offered to do it. No wonder she agreed so quickly.”

They all glanced across to Patrizia, who raised a cheerful wave in response.

“Yes,” Angelo sighed. “She saw us coming.”

“It’s okay,” Daniele smiled. “I don’t mind.”

Angelo shook his head. “You’re too kind to us, Dani. No wonder poor Marco here is in love with y–”

“Angelo!” Marco protested, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” Angelo said, his voice full of feigned contrition. “We’re not supposed to talk about that, are we?”

Gianni chuckled. “You’re even worse than Claudia.”

Angelo nodded, grinning unrepentantly. “Like I said. Taught her everything she knows.”

Gianni gave Daniele and Marco a despairing look. “Can you believe I’ve put up with this for eleven years?”

While the two young men turned their attention back to the camping stove, Daniele gave Marco a cautious glance. The mousy-haired boy looked a little embarrassed by Angelo’s jibe, but not mortified. Perhaps it was because Daniele already knew about his feelings for him; there were few secrets between them these days.

Plumes of steam were now emanating from the pan. Angelo lowered a second slice of pizza into it, crossing the fingers on his free hand.

There was the soft thud of running feet on sand, and Reza and Sami appeared, followed at a distance by Tiziana.

“How are the snacks coming along, guys?” Reza asked.

Gianni gave him an embarrassed glance. “We’ll, ah… have to get back to you.”

“That good, huh?” Reza asked. “Here, let us take a look.”

Tiziana smiled at Daniele and Marco and then joined her husband in the huddle around the camping stove.

Marco gave Daniele a sidelong glance. “How many adults does it take to heat up a slice of pizza?” he whispered.

Daniele began to reply. “At least half a vill– oof!”

Unexpectedly, Sami had thrown himself upon them, and suddenly the two boys found themselves encumbered and entangled with armfuls of excitable eight-year-old.

“Easy, Sami,” Daniele gasped, “you’re getting big these days.”

The little boy did seem to have grown and filled out a bit over the last few months.

“Why haven’ I seen you, guys?” Sami asked, pulling away and kneeling down in the sand, pouting slightly.

“Well…” Daniele replied, “your Italian’s getting really good now, and you’re doing so well with your new mamma and papà. We didn’t think you needed us so much anymore.”

Sami crossed his little arms. “I do need you,” he insisted stubbornly, but Daniele suspected his commitment wouldn’t last.

“Try this one, Sami,” Reza said, holding a slice of pizza out to him. “We’ve actually come up with something vaguely edible, we think.”

The little boy’s eyes lit up at once, and he descended on the proffered treat, seeming to forget all about his older friends.

The two boys exchanged another glance.

“See what I mean?” Daniele said.

Marco seized a couple of cans of Lemon Soda from a cooler nearby and tossed one to Daniele, then they took a few steps away. Staring vaguely out at the pitched battle take place among the sparkling waves, Daniele sipped on the refreshing, bittersweet drink. It fizzed satisfyingly on its way down.

“How’s it going with Gianni and Angelo?” he asked his friend.

“Good,” Marco replied. “Really great, I think.” He paused to scratch his head. “I mean, I’m still working out what great looks like, so…” He shrugged. “At least I can be myself around them.”

He stole a quick glance at Daniele as he said this, then, almost imperceptibly, he sagged a little. Daniele knew the mousy-haired boy had always found himself meagre and unattractive compared to his friends. Daniele wished he could do something to change that perception, but he didn’t really know what to say.

Well… there was one way he might be able to help, but that wasn’t where his heart really lay, was it?

Daniele settled for placing an arm around the other boy’s shoulders. Marco jumped slightly, but then he smiled a little.

“I’m happy for you,” Daniele said.

“Thanks.”

“Do you ever see your old parents these days?”

Marco shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I mean… what good did they ever do me?”

Marco’s birth parents, Lorenzo and Gemma, lived only a short distance away from the house where he now resided with Gianni and Angelo. Daniele supposed the smaller boy couldn’t help seeing them around town from time to time, but he couldn’t really blame him if he chose to walk the other way when he did.

At the water’s edge, Giacomo’s battle with Luca seemed to have come to an end. A dripping Emilia was glaring at them both, arms folded tightly. With an awkward smile, the dark-eyed boy made a discrete exit and trotted back across the beach to join Daniele and Marco. As Giacomo approached, Daniele dropped his arm from the smaller boy’s shoulders without even really realising he was doing it.

“Ciao, Marco,” Giacomo ventured.

“Ciao, Giaco,” the mousy-haired boy replied.

Daniele suddenly realised he was smiling. Apparently, he still couldn’t help ‘lighting up’, as Marco had once described it, when the dark-eyed boy was around.

“A damsel in distress, you were saying?” he asked.

Giacomo glanced back at Emilia, who was looking daggers in his general direction.

“I thought I’d leave before I was the one in distress,” Giacomo replied, and then they both laughed.

With a faint sigh, Marco disengaged from them and went off to greet Alfredo, Gianni and Angelo’s little white dog, who had appeared from somewhere and was approaching him with a canine grin on his beardy face. With a fleeting pang of guilt, Daniele watched as Marco knelt down to talk to the dog, receiving a slobbery tongue to the face for his trouble. The mousy-haired boy didn’t seem to object to Alfredo’s enthusiastic attentions; in fact, Daniele thought even heard him laugh a little.

* * *

The afternoon passed with more fun and games, and someone – Daniele suspected an unholy alliance of Giacomo and Luca – came up with the idea of burying him in the sand as a birthday rite of passage.

“Do you have to?” Daniele asked, glancing around at his friends as they encircled him, but nobody came to his rescue.

“I think that’s a unanimous decision, Dani,” Toto commiserated.

Daniele sighed and submitted to his fate, lying back on the sand with his hands behind his head. Giacomo was by his side at once.

“Sorry, Dani,” he whispered, “no arms allowed.”

“Ah, c’mon, Giaco,” Daniele protested, but he gave up any resistance as the dark-eyed boy took his hands and lowered them gently to his sides.

Everyone under the age of twenty got involved. Clods of sand flew down on him from every direction until he was effectively immobilised, with just his head poking out. When the team were satisfied that he was sufficiently covered, they set to work patting the mound down until his body was little more than a smooth hump in the sand. They stood back to admire their handiwork.

“What should we do now, guys?” Toto asked the others. “Just leave him here?”

“Thanks a bunch, Toto,” Daniele retorted.

Michele laughed slightly. “Might be a bit harsh.”

Giacomo sprang onto the top of Daniele’s hump of sand, and for a moment he was forcibly reminded of a certain sleepover a few months ago.

“Maybe we should all pile onto him,” the dark-eyed boy suggested.

Daniele looked to Marco for help, but the mousy-haired boy just smiled.

“Works for me,” he said.

“Such limited imaginations,” Isabella sighed, sidling into view. “Move over, boys.”

Daniele looked on apprehensively as Giacomo obeyed her command, backing away with an amused smirk. Isabella took his place astride Daniele’s hump of sand, propping herself up on her elbows.

“This is from Claudia,” she said, leaning in.

“Oh, no…” Daniele began, turning away, but then he was cut off as Isabella planted a pert little kiss on his cheek.

As he cringed to the side, Angelo appeared in his view, brandishing a camera phone.

“For posterity,” he said, snapping a photo with a wink.

In the distance, Daniele saw his mother put a hand to her mouth, seemingly torn between sympathy and laughter.

“Why are people always trying to kiss me?” he cried, directing his frustration to the sky.

“Why do you ask, Dani?” Toto queried. “Who else has been kissing you lately?”

Everyone laughed except for Giacomo and Marco, who exchanged an odd little glance. Marco looked faintly suspicious; Giacomo managed to keep his face more open and neutral, although Daniele thought he could detect just the faintest trace of an embarrassed smile.

“Maybe we should let him up, guys,” Michele suggested.

“Yes, please!” Daniele exclaimed.

They set back to work and, when enough sand had been scraped off him, Daniele freed himself with a shake and glanced ruefully down at his sandy body.

“I’m absolutely covered,” he grumbled.

“We can fix that,” Luca said, seizing one of his ankles. “Come on, guys!”

Daniele looked around in fresh horror as Giacomo, Emilia and Marco all closed in on him, each grabbing one of his limbs.

In the restraining arms of Reza and Tiziana, Sami looked on and giggled as they carried Daniele into the shallows and began to swing him back and forth.

“Oh, no!” Daniele protested again. “No, no –”

Splash!

The waves washed over him, soaking his hair, which he had so far managed to keep dry. He hauled himself up into a sitting position, washed free of sand, but dripping.

“I hate you guys!” he cried, but it was all just bluster. It wasn’t in Daniele’s nature to hate, and his friends all knew it.

In a rare display of camaraderie, Giacomo and Marco turned and pushed each other into the water. Emilia and Luca followed suit.

“There!” Giacomo spluttered as the others on the shoreline laughed. “Now we’re even!”

* * *

Daniele’s father, Paolo, turned up in his taxi at three o’clock to drive them home, by which time the party had already begun to disperse of its own accord as the other guests’ lifts arrived.

Wedged in the back of the car with Elena, Daniele and Giacomo exchanged a secret smile as Paolo conducted them up the one, winding road that led up to Ravello from the coast. It rose in a serpentine fashion through a rocky valley, climbing beside the brisk torrent of the Dragone river.

The bottom of the valley was dotted with wild scrub. As they climbed higher and the valley broadened out, the scrub began to give way to olive groves and lemon orchards. The village of Scala came into view on one side, a scattering of ancient hamlets amidst a terraced mountain slope, loosely linked by a single road with many hairpin bends. The weathered rear wall of its faintly forbidding cathedral glared across the valley to the ridge opposite, where the grander villas and palazzi of Ravello had also come into view, a sea of stucco render and terracotta roofs dotted with slender cypress trees and tall umbrella pines.

There was very little car access to the centre of Ravello, so Paolo dropped Giacomo and his mother at the end of the valley road, outside a ceramics workshop at the foot of a narrow, tree-lined street that led up to the cathedral square. Daniele got out of the taxi to say goodbye, stepping out into the late afternoon sun to the distant sound of the cicadas scraping in the trees. In a short, whispered conversation, Daniele and his friend promised to meet up again that evening if they could, then Giacomo and his mother set off towards the square.

Daniele climbed back into the car, and Paolo drove them back down to the main road tunnel, which connected the valley road to the inland route to Naples on the other side of the town.

Daniele and his parents lived in a small modern villa on the steep hillside below the centre of town, overlooking the coast at Minori and the larger resort of Maiori beyond. The whole bay was enclosed by a rugged, rocky mountain ridge that separated Maiori from the eastward coast towards Salerno. Compared to the frenetic energy of the coastal resorts, life in the hills was airy and peaceful. It might have been a world away.

The Naples road followed the perimeter of the town centre, ending at a tunnel that led back into the cathedral square. From there, a long, zig-zagging road led down the hillside into Daniele’s neighbourhood. Taking the hairpin bends with the true confidence that only familiarity could bring, Daniele’s father drove them down the hillside and soon they were home.

The ground floor of Daniele’s house consisted of a small sun terrace with terracotta tiles, a light and airy kitchen diner, the family bathroom and a large double bedroom that Daniele had all to himself. His parents’ master suite was upstairs, meaning that, once they had all gone to bed, everyone’s privacy was assured.

As Daniele kicked off his trainers in the ceramic-tiled hallway, he realised he was still shedding sand. He followed his parents into the kitchen diner for the moment, where Patrizia set straight to work organising the beach laundry.

“I need a shower,” he confessed.

Paolo chuckled. “I expect you do.”

“Can I meet Giacomo for ice cream later?”

Pausing halfway through loading the washing machine, Patrizia stared at him, brushing her long blond hair away from her face. A petite woman, she had given Daniele his unusual hair colour and blue eyes, both so rare in the south of Italy. His father’s chestnut eyes and mid-brown hair were more typical.

“Again?” she exclaimed. “Haven’t you seen enough of each other for one day?”

Daniele shrugged and smiled.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Patrizia made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “Well, all right. But be back before seven so we can give you a bit of dinner before you go to bed. We’d both like to spend a little more time with our birthday boy, and school isn’t over just yet.”

* * *

In the shower, Daniele shampooed his hair for several seconds and then washed himself thoroughly with a sponge and shower gel. These days, he always regretted it if he cut corners. And besides… didn’t he want he want to feel… attractive, for his evening alone with his friend?

Don’t be ridiculous.

He gave himself a mental shake; there was nothing to be gained from such fantasies. But it was hard, wasn’t it, to give up on something you wanted? Especially when he and Giacomo were growing up all the time.

On the beach, he had happened to notice that Luca, who was a few months older, had developed a fine fuzz of hair in his armpits. So far, Daniele’s own armpits were still smooth. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; but in that respect, at least, Giacomo seemed to be no further along than he was.

At least he’s not leaving me behind.

As to how things might look in any other places… well, the whole idea of that made him feel a little strange inside.

Daniele dried himself off and then returned to his bedroom wearing just his towel. A broad, low-ceilinged space, it had two east-facing windows, which meant it was very bright in the mornings but cooler in the evenings. The windows offered a panoramic view down over the steeply terraced olive groves and lemon orchards below the town and, eventually, to the sapphire blue sea far below.

Daniele peered out through one of the windows for a moment, safe in the knowledge that nobody else would see him in his undressed state. At this hour, the westering sun was still high enough in the sky to cast a bright glow over the hillside, and the colours seemed, if possible, even more intense than they had first thing that morning. Down among the silvery olive trees, the first cicadas of the year were still busily scraping away. The noisy insects had reappeared a few weeks ago, intermittently at first; now, it was hot enough that they could be heard most days. Daniele was a summer child at heart, and the return of the cicadas always gave him a lift, bringing with it the knowledge that summer was finally just around the corner. Soon, the swifts would return, too, unleashing their shrill cries as they flew over the hillside in search of insects.

What would it feel like, he wondered, to share this view with someone special?

The true centrepiece of Daniele’s room was the large double bed that stood between the two windows. Giacomo had shared it with him once, when he was in hiding after betraying Ettore Neri’s protection racket. Daniele flushed as he remembered that night; they had both been younger then, and kisses had been the last thing on their minds, but even so… Giacomo had known, hadn’t he? That was when the other boy had first realised that what Daniele felt for him was a little more than simple friendship.

“Do you… like me, or something?” Giacomo had whispered.

Daniele had blinked back at him, unsure, at first how to answer. After a while, he had nodded slightly.

“A bit,” he had said.

Giacomo had twisted his mouth thoughtfully. “That’s okay, I guess,” he had replied after a while. “You’re still the best friend I’ve ever had.”

And they had left it at that.

To the left of the bed was an untidy desk and a series of shelves and drawers containing copies of all the silly adventure stories he had written over the years. There was also a laptop, spoils of his thirteenth birthday last year, which he still used to write… but, lately, his stories had evolved, taking place with one foot planted more firmly in reality, and character arcs and emotions had taken centre stage. In the real world, Daniele had always been an empath but, until now, his stories had always been pure fantasy. These days, it seemed, action and adventure alone could no longer fully satisfy him.

On the far side of the room was a wall of built-in storage, and it was to this that Daniele now headed. He swung open the wardrobe door, the inside of which was graced with a full height mirror, and he paused for a moment to check out his own reflection.

Yes, he did look more grown-up than Marco. Could his figure compete with Giacomo’s? He supposed it could. The dark-eyed boy had always put a great effort into his appearance; Daniele’s style was softer and more naturalistic, but colour… colour was important.

A rack of pastel tie-dye t-shirts stared back down at him, ordered by colour, forming a full spectrum from one end of the wardrobe to the other. He also had a scattering of other things, including a denim shirt that Giacomo had given him last year and a light blue, long-sleeved shirt Toto had Michele had helped him to buy, which still just about fitted… but his t-shirts remained his mainstay. He had never grown tired of them, and his parents had done their best to keep him supplied with new tie-dye t-shirts and tops as he grew older.

Eyes roving from side to side, he weighed up his choice of colour. Lately, he had drifted more towards the blues and the yellows, but tonight he pulled down the pale pink. It was how many of his friends had first known him, and it felt like a suitable choice to round out his birthday. As was his custom, he paired it with a pair of beige chino shorts. He brushed his hair, applied his deodorant and pronounced himself ready to go.

In the kitchen, there was no sign of his father; Daniele supposed he must have gone back out to scoop up a couple more taxi fares before dinner. His mother, though, was busy at the kitchen table, trialling recipes for sweet pastries; since the start of the year, she had been working with Gianni on a business idea for the summer. Although they both had decent day jobs working as waiters at a hotel in town, Patrizia was keen to branch out into home baking, and Gianni needed an outlet for his art. Rather eccentrically, they had come up with the idea of a mobile wagon that sold a bit of both, the idea being that the town’s many summer tourists would be lured by the sweet treats and would stay to look at the pictures. Gianni’s partner Angelo, who was a carpenter by trade, was supposedly hard at work fabricating the actual cart itself.

Daniele had often been tempted to ask how a wheeled cart was meant to cope with the town’s many steps, but he had bitten his tongue.

“Oh, that’s a classic,” Patrizia said, smiling approvingly at Daniele’s choice of outfit. “I thought maybe you’d decided you were too grown up for it.”

“Never!” Daniele replied, although now, he began to wonder, hadn’t he done exactly that without even realising it?

“It’s just… it reminds me so much of the sweet little boy who began to spread his wings after he first met Toto and Michele a couple of years ago.”

“Have I changed that much?” Daniele asked, wondering, dubiously, how far the conversation would go. His mother’s light blue eyes were starting to look dangerously misty and nostalgic and, while he usually enjoyed his parents’ stories, tonight he had places to be.

This time, however, Patrizia kept her answer brief.

“Oh, only in the best possible ways. You make us proud every day, caro.”

“Ah… thanks,” Daniele replied. Feeling embarrassed, he sought to change the subject. “How are the pastries going?”

Patrizia smiled. “Really well, I think. I’m trying a new recipe for cherry turnovers that I think might be a hit.” She gave Daniele a hopeful glance. “Gianni and I could do with your help running the cart during the summer, if you’d be willing. We’d give you a bit of extra money for it, and maybe get Marco involved as well…?”

“I… I guess I’d be up for that,” Daniele replied tentatively, “if it’s not, you know… full-time.”

Patrizia chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re not going to keep you away from your friends. I’m talking strictly occasional help here.”

Daniele smiled. “Okay, cool.”

“Anyway,” Patrizia said, “I still have plenty to get on with. Didn’t you want to be going?”

Daniele nodded. “Yeah… thanks.”

He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket for just long enough to send Giacomo a text.

‘We’re on. See you in the square in 20 mins?’

The other boy’s answer was as quick as it was brief.

‘Cool. I’ll be there.’

* * *

Daniele set out into the warmth of the evening and began the climb back up to the centre of town, battling the irrational hope that always seemed to haunt him at times like this.

It’s just an ice cream with your best friend. Nothing more to it than that.

Ravello was an ancient sort of place, a mountain town built in the days before cars. Such roads as existed at all were a modern imposition, criss-crossing the old lanes, alleys and stairways that formed the town’s real streets, dating back to a time when the principal means of transporting goods up and down the mountain was by mule.

These were the pathways that Daniele followed now. Not far from his front door, a steep, narrow stairway led up through a dense little cluster of houses to a dusty concrete path below a terrace laden with grape vines, where tiny green grapes were just beginning to form. From there, he crossed the zig-zagging road one last time and was lost to the more historic part of town, where several grand old properties stood.

Daniele’s regular route to and from the centre of town was a long, relatively gentle stairway bounded by high stone walls. Only the tops of trees and tufts of overhanging foliage, and the occasional archway or barred gate, hinted at the presence of several hidden gardens just out of sight of the path. A casual visitor, Daniele reflected, wouldn’t even know that half the houses were there.

He shuddered slightly as he passed one such gate, through which he glimpsed a pergola draped with wisteria vines. The vines were in full bloom, draped with cascades of fragrant white and purple flowers. Just out of sight beyond those beautiful colours, Daniele remembered, was the slick but soulless villa belonging to Assunta Neri, matriarch of the criminal family he and Giacomo had briefly tangled with the year before. With half her family in prison and the rest in business in Naples, the spideresque Assunta rarely made her presence felt in the centre of town, and Daniele, for one, was glad of it.

But it was a beautiful evening, he was heading into town to see Giacomo, and the memory couldn’t suppress his mood for long. He made it to the top of the steps, where they merged with another winding stairway that descended from further up the hill, then he wandered through an archway beneath an old townhouse and stepped out onto a narrow cobbled street lined with gift shops. Colourful ceramic bowls, plates and trinkets cascaded from every entrance, perused by visitors enjoying a spot of evening shopping. Daniele made his way through the crowds, dodging passers-by, and emerged into the quietly buzzing surroundings of the town’s cathedral square.

Ravello’s whitewashed cathedral was a plain but imposing affair, sited at the top of a broad flight of steps at the head of the stone-paved space. The great bronze doors were shut but, to either side, two smaller entrances stood open. A few late visitors came and went, along with a couple of elderly locals who had stopped by to pray. To either side, the square was flanked by old buildings with rusting ironwork. People came and went from the shops on the side streets or relaxed at the outdoor seating belonging to the square’s many bars, nursing drinks or snacks. Pigeons pecked around their feet, looking for crumbs.

Opposite the cathedral, eight tall umbrella pines framed the square’s centrepiece, the panoramic view across the broad, sun-drenched Valle del Dragone to Scala, spread out over the terraced mountain slopes on the far side of the valley. A few visitors stood at the railings, entranced by the landscape, from the soaring rocky peaks high above them to the silvery olive groves nestled in the sheltered valley below. As was normal for a Sunday evening on the eve of summer, the atmosphere was mellow, dominated by the gentle murmur of conversation, the chinking of cups and cutlery and the raucous scraping of the cicadas, singing their hearts out among the high canopies of the eight statuesque pines. Somewhere not too far away, a cracked-sounding church bell chimed five o’clock.

Daniele wandered over to one of the stone benches under the pine trees to wait for Giacomo, rejoicing in the knowledge that school would be over in a couple of weeks and that he and his friends would be free to enjoy all this at their leisure.

It wasn’t long before the dark-eyed boy appeared, sauntering across the square with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue slim-fit jeans, which he had topped off with a stylish shirt in navy. He looked effortlessly cool, as usual. Daniele sighed slightly, trying to ground his wayward imagination.

“Ciao, Giaco,” Daniele ventured as the other boy approached.

“Ciao, Dani,” Giacomo replied, then he stopped short, seemingly caught off-balance by something in Daniele’s appearance. “Wow… hehe.”

“What?” Daniele asked. He glanced down at himself in concern, wondering if he had done something wrong when he put himself together that evening.

Did I leave my fly undone or something…?

Giacomo smiled. “This is so cool,” he said. “You look just like you did on our first date.”

“Date?” Daniele repeated incredulously.

Giacomo shrugged this off. “Playdate, whatever. It’s just, your clothes… they’re exactly the same. Isn’t this even the same bench?”

Now that he mentioned it, Daniele had to admit to a certain sense of déjá vu about the occasion. Even Giacomo’s own choice of outfit seemed to offer a faint echo of that day.

“You remember all that?” Daniele asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Giacomo asked, finally closing the distance between them and sliding onto the bench next to him. “It’s not every day you meet someone who changes your life.” He smirked. “I also remember that you made me try those clothes on.”

“That was your idea,” Daniele replied. “Although…” he allowed the remark to dangle for a moment.

“Although what?” Giacomo pressed, clearly on tenterhooks.

Daniele grinned. “You’ve never looked better since.”

Giacomo seemed to choke for a moment. “That’s new, though. You never would have sassed me like that back then.”

Daniele snickered. “Sorry.”

“No, I like it,” Giacomo replied with a grin. He nudged Daniele with his elbow. “Anyway, I know you still have the same soft centre inside.”

Daniele moved to get up before the conversation could tip over into total embarrassment.

“Let’s get that ice cream,” he suggested.

“Wait,” Giacomo said, taking Daniele by the arm. “First, I’ve got to get a selfie of this.”

The dark-eyed boy rose from his seat and tugged Daniele over towards the railings. He pulled out his smartphone and flipped it to the front camera, then took a few moments to compose his shot. Frowning thoughtfully, he wrapped an arm around Daniele’s shoulders. Daniele returned the gesture.

“Smile!” Giacomo said, then, to Daniele’s surprise, he leaned in until Daniele could feel his dark hair pressing softly against his own. Caught off-guard by the other boy’s unexpected, gentle intimacy, Daniele’s smile was surprised and genuine.

Deftly, the dark-eyed boy snapped the photo, then released him and, with a few quick taps at the screen, he sent him a copy. Daniele felt it land in his pocket with a buzz.

“What was all that about?” Daniele asked.

Giacomo shrugged. “Just something to remember your birthday by.” He smiled. “Now let’s go and get that ice cream.”

Okay… not at all weird…

* * *

A few minutes later, they returned from the ice cream parlour at the corner of the square and sat back down on the same bench. Giacomo had opted for a rich vanilla and black cherry gelato, while Daniele had asked for two scoops of the local lemon sorbet, which was tangy and deliciously cool.

“I thought you normally went for super-sweet?” Giacomo asked, inclining his head towards Daniele’s cone.

“Fancied a change,” Daniele replied.

“Are you looking forward to the holidays?”

Daniele nodded with conviction. “You bet!”

Giacomo smiled. “It’s the leavers’ disco first.”

Daniele shuddered. A lot of their classmates, he knew, were looking forward to it, or at least claimed to be, but Daniele himself couldn’t imagine anything more awkward.

“Don’t remind me!” he groaned. He paused, and offered his friend a sideways look, a certain anxious curiosity getting the better of him. “Are you… planning on asking anyone?”

Giacomo laughed. “Who would I ask?” His dark eyes flicked towards Daniele for a moment, then he shook his head. “No way. I’ll be flying solo. What about you?”

Daniele shook his head. “Nah.”

“I thought Marco might ask you,” Giacomo ventured.

“I don’t think Marco’s ready for that,” Daniele replied. He took a deep breath. “And… nor are the other kids. Can you imagine, two boys arriving together…?”

Giacomo snickered. “Could be funny, though… it’d make it an evening to remember, for sure.”

“I can’t wait for it all to be over,” Daniele said. “Then, after that…” he smiled at the thought, “we can do whatever we want.”

Giacomo nodded. “Totally.”

The dark-eyed boy frowned, seeming thoughtful for a moment, then, a little more hesitantly, he went on. “I’d really like it if, some of the time, it could just be… you and me.”

In spite of himself, Daniele’s heart gave a little jolt.

“I…”

He paused, thrown back into wishful thinking by the other boy’s words; but, at the back of his mind, another memory intruded.

Hadn’t they been here before?

“I’d really like that,” he went on. “But… you said the same thing last year, do you remember? And then…”

“…Laura,” Giacomo murmured.

“Yeah,” Daniele replied quietly. Although it was almost a full year ago, he could picture the scene like it was yesterday: Giacomo, experiencing his first kiss on the darkened belvedere with Emilia’s cousin from Rome; Daniele’s own heartbroken flight home, cursed to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Giacomo cast his eyes down and took a lick of his ice cream.

“She came on so strong,” he mumbled. “I’d never had a girl so interested in me before. I… didn’t know what else to do.” He looked up, his dark eyes determined. “But that’s history, Dani. It’s like I told you after I broke up with her. I never want anything like that to come between us again.”

Daniele gave him a pained glance. “If you knew what that would mean to me, if I thought you…” he tailed off, looking away with a sigh of his own, and tried to lose himself in his lemon sorbet. A few metres away, one of the town’s many feral cats prowled around the base of one of the pine trees, searching for scraps.

Daniele felt Giacomo’s hand on his arm again, and he forced himself to face him.

Giacomo’s expression was unnervingly sincere. “I mean it, Dani,” he said. “You and me, just like the old days. That’s what I want.”