Read Online Stella Mia by Rosanna Chiofalo - Free Book Online Page B

in front of Papá if it’s a new skirt. No doubt Mama is wondering when I could have had the time to sew myself a skirt with all my chores. I glance nervously at her. She lightly nods her head and walks away. Breathing a sigh of relief, I wait until all of my family has stepped out before I join them. Looking over my shoulder, I take a mental snapshot of our small house before shutting the door.
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    The sounds of trombones, trumpets, and a thumping bass drum fill the air as a long parade winds its way through the narrow streets of Barcellona. A few men, both young and old, carry the towering statue of St. Anthony of Padua. I stare at the benevolent saint’s face and then transfer my gaze to that of the infant Jesus that he carries in his arms. St. Anthony’s devotion to the baby Jesus is evident in his tender expression.
    Cries of delight from Enzo and Carlotta reach my ears. They are standing at a zeppole stand, waiting for my father to buy them the powdered sugar sweets they love so much. Carlotta and Enzo reach their hands high, bouncing on their little feet in anticipation of the zeppole . My father is in a good mood tonight, for he is buying the children almost any treat they desire. I silently thank God. This way, I will not have to hold my promise to Carlotta to buy her zeppole. I need all of the money I have.
    Savory aromas vie with sweet ones. The smoke from sizzling sausages and bracciole stings my eyes. Men shout out their goods as if the sight and smells aren’t enough to lure customers to their stands. Normally, I cannot wait to have many of the delicacies found at the feast. But tonight my thoughts are racing. All I can think about is my escape. Agata bought a bag of zeppole, which she is sharing with me. I nibble on one as we stroll through the crowded streets. Our parents walk behind us. While our fathers are engaged in conversation and are enjoying the feast, they still keep their eyes on Agata and me to ensure no boys approach us.
    â€œSarina, are you not feeling well?” Agata asks me as she pops what must be her fourth zeppola into her mouth.
    â€œI’m fine.”
    â€œYou are hardly eating. I’ve never known you not to sample most of the food at the feast. And I can’t believe you turned down the fried zucchini blossoms—your favorite! You seem preoccupied. What’s the matter?” Agata looks at me with concern written all over her features. Whenever she is worried, she unconsciously tightens the muscles in her forehead, creating a deep crease between her brows.
    â€œI’m fine, Agata. The last feast we went to, I actually had a bad upset stomach when I got home. I don’t want that to happen again.” Guilt washes over me that I’ve lied.
    â€œI know what’s worrying you, Sarina. You’re afraid that my plan of secretly meeting Giuseppe tonight will not work, and you will get in trouble for covering for me.”
    â€œYes, I am a little nervous about it, Agata.” I muster a small smile, which my sweet cousin returns.
    Agata had managed to talk to Giuseppe when she last visited me, and they agreed to meet briefly tonight during the fireworks display, which we would be watching from the roof of the house that belongs to my father’s friend Luigi Milazzo. Luigi’s house is one of the best from which to view the fireworks. It will be too dark for our families to notice Agata slip away, and they will be distracted by the fireworks. I am to cover for her in case anyone takes notice and just say she went to the bathroom. Agata is supposed to meet Giuseppe in the alleyway behind Luigi’s house. She has promised me she will be back before the fireworks are over.
    â€œDon’t worry. If I’m caught I’ll tell our fathers that you tried to talk me out of meeting Giuseppe. I’ll make you look like a saint!” Agata pats my shoulder.
    â€œYou would do that for me? Take all the blame?” I cannot look