The boy poked me in the side, pulling me out of my own thoughts, and I looked back down at him.
“I think I want to paint my door,” I told him, deciding that I needed to distract myself.
“What color?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. What color do you think?”
“Blue.” He grinned up at me, showcasing a missing front tooth. “You can never go wrong with blue.”
I tilted my head and glanced back up at my door, imagining it painted dark blue. “I think you may be right.” I paused, smiling down at him, the first genuine smile I’d had since I’d gotten my acceptance letter. “What’s your name?”
He pushed his shoulders back, puffed out his chest, and announced, “Riccardo. But my little sister calls me Cardo.” He rolled his eyes, coming across way older than he had to be.
“Nice to meet you, Cardo.” I crouched down, placed the box next to me, and held my hand out to him. He didn’t hesitate to grasp my palm and shake it with all of his might. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be eight in seventy-three days.” I grinned, remembering a time when I wouldn’t say how old I was but instead would tell people when I would be turning another year older. It somehow made you feel more accomplished than simply saying your actual age.
“Nice.” I let go of his hand and stood. “Any plans to celebrate?”
He shrugged, turning back to face the apartment building, his gaze drifting to the wide-open door on the first floor. “Not yet. I’ll probably just watch cartoons and eat cereal.”
“Sounds like the perfect day to me, Cardo.”
His head whipped around so fast he stumbled to the side. “Yeah?”
“Yep,” I replied, popping the p on the end. “I wish I could watch cartoons and eat cereal.”
“You’re an adult.” His voice sounded so confused. “You can do whatever you want.”
I didn’t answer him because I didn’t want to burst his bubble. It was the same bubble I’d grown up with, one where I imagined being an adult and getting away from the life I was raised in, but I somehow found myself glued in place with no out in sight.
“True,” I answered instead, trying not to think about it. I huffed out a breath, deciding that there was no time like now to go up to my new apartment. “Well…I better head on up there,” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to myself or Cardo.
The silence stretched between us, neither of us moving from the spots we were in, and I wondered if he didn’t want to go home either. What was running through his little mind? What was waiting for him behind his apartment door?
“Cardo?” a small voice called a second before a little girl appeared in the doorway to the open apartment door. She held on to a small stuffed bunny, grasping it tightly to her chest, her face unsure whether she should step outside of not.
“That’s my sister,” Cardo said, his voice low. He took a step away from me, his attention fully focused on her and what I could only describe as bed hair. “Coming, Chiara.” He lifted his hand as he glanced back at me. “Bye…” He frowned, probably trying to remember what my name was, but I hadn’t told him.
“Luna,” I whispered. “My name is Luna.”
He nodded. “Bye, Luna.”
“Bye, Cardo.”
I didn’t move my gaze off him as he walked over to his apartment and took his sister's hand. Her lips pulled up into a huge grin, her eyes lighting up, and I knew he was a hero in her eyes. You didn’t have to ask to know he took care of her; you could see it clear as day.
He closed the door behind them, the click of the lock ringing out, and that was my signal to go up to my apartment too. I’d wasted enough time standing outside, now it was my turn to go inside and face whatever waited for me.
I wiggled my nose as I walked up the stairs leading up to the third floor, trying not to think about all the things that happened in this open stairwell. The stench of urine burned my nostrils, and I cursed myself for not wearing a scarf this morning. Not because it was cold, but because it would protect me from the stink invading my nose.
I shivered as I made it to my floor and looked down at where I’d been standing with Cardo. It was the perfect line of sight to see my apartment. My hand grasped on to the door handle, my chest heaving on a deep breath, and I finally opened it, walking into what was meant to be my safe haven.
Dad stood in the hallway, staring down at the few boxes of things we owned. It wasn?
?t much, but at least it was ours.
“That’s the last of them,” I told Dad, placing the last box on the floor. He focused on me, a giant grin on his face that seemed to be permanently stuck there.