CHAPTER 3

I give a smile, though it’s probably a little crooked.

«Not even in practice. I mean, obviously, if I had superpowers, none of this would be a problem.»

«You think so?»

«Of course.»

He tilts his head, amused. «And what would you do?»

I don’t even hesitate. «Whatever I want, without listening to anyone.»

«And messing up wouldn’t worry you?»

I huff. «Yeah, maybe with superpowers, I’d just screw up on a much bigger scale.»

Emanuele laughs, then glances around. «Alright, let’s see. To get to the parking lot, we’d have to go past the school entrance, and I’m guessing that’s not ideal.»

«Exactly.» I think for a moment. «Do you think I’m still in time to follow those instructions?»

He shrugs, like it makes no difference. «Who knows? But the alternative is turning yourself in to the janitors. How does that sound?»

«Hard pass.»

«Figured.»

He takes a few steps away, studying the equipment shed. It’s pressed against the school building, and just above it, there’s a metal ladder leading to the roof.

«I’ll boost you onto the shed, then you can climb up to the roof and drop down the other side.»

I widen my eyes. «I’m not freaking 007!»

«Even he had to start somewhere.» He clasps his hands together and lowers them in front of him. «Put your foot here, and I’ll give you a lift.»

«I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.»

«Remember? No other choice.»

«Yeah…»

I take a deep breath, place my foot in his hands, and grip his shoulders.

«One... Two...»

On three, he lifts me, and my stomach drops. The edge of the roof digs into my hips, and I flail, struggling to pull myself up. It’s dirty and slippery, and the only reason I don’t fall is that he pushes me up by my feet.

I glance down at my filthy arms, grimacing. «Ugh, gross.»

«You good?» he calls from below.

«Yeah, but how are you getting up?»

Emanuele shifts a plastic container into place, using it as a step. Then, with a short running start, he jumps, grabs the ledge, and hoists himself up like it’s nothing.

Okay, sure, he’s at least twenty centimeters taller than me, but still—he makes it look effortless.

«I’m impressed...»

He claps the dust off his hands. «Parkour. After a couple of cracked ribs, you learn.»

«Lucky me, I skipped that part.»

The rain has stopped, but the sky remains heavy and gray. The air is fresh and damp, and the whole city feels eerily empty. To be honest, everything seems strange today. Like the world I’ve always half-ignored has suddenly taken on a sharper, more real shape.

Emanuele looks up toward the roof. «This time, I’ll go first.»

He jumps, catches the metal railing of the fire escape, swings a couple of times, then pulls himself up with the grace of a gymnast. Finally, he lowers the ladder so I can climb.

«Now I’m not just impressed, I’m actually scared. Are you sure you’re a high school senior?»

«Want me to recite some Alcaeus or Epicurus? Or Catullus, if you’re in the mood for something romantic.»

I climb up, laughing. «Now I’m certain you’re not a student. No one in this school of idiots knows that stuff.»

He tilts his head, challenging me. «Odi et amo, quare id facias...»

«Fortasse requiris,» I reply without missing a beat.

He smirks. «Nescio, sed fieri sentio...»

«Et excrucior,» I finish, surprised by how well I remember it.

He gives me a playful grin. «Not bad, Oronza.»

«You idiot!» I shove his shoulder, laughing again. «Come on, let’s go.»

We reach the school roof and move to the opposite side. The parking lot is about ten meters below us. Luckily, there’s another ladder, and from there, all we have to do is jump down.

Emanuele dusts off his hands. «See? Easy.»

«I still can’t believe I actually did that.»

He pulls me behind a car and crouches down. «What were the next instructions?»

Now I really feel like I’m in a movie.

«You’re really taking this seriously,» I point out.

«I always take stories seriously.»

«All of them?» Oh God, what a dumb question. I want to disappear.

«Too much, sometimes,» he replies, his gaze fixed on the parking lot.

If I had a bucket of ice water, I’d dunk my whole head in it. But, as usual, I play it cool.

«The perfect guy.»

«Hold off on that judgment. What’s next?»

«The fence.» I nod toward the vertical metal bars surrounding the lot. «The third-to-last one should come loose. Theoretically.»

He nods. «Let’s check.»

We move to the corner, and Emanuele grabs the metal bar with both hands.

He tries a couple of times, then shakes his head. «No luck, it won’t budge.»

«The gaps between them are too small to squeeze through... Wait, let me try counting from the other side.»

I was right. This time, the bar slides out easily. A rare victory for my dying self-esteem.

Emanuele moves it aside, and once we’re both on the sidewalk, he puts it back in place.

«Hey, you’re not some secret agent, are you?» I ask, half-joking. «Like, you’re not gonna kill me or kidnap me or...» I stop before making it worse.

He brushes off the dust from his jacket.

«If I were a secret agent, I imagine I wouldn’t be doing any of that. Now, if I were a dangerous criminal… well, it would’ve happened already.»

«Makes sense, but… it’s weird that you’re helping me with this madness,» I admit.

His light eyes lock onto mine, and he gives a small smile. «You said it yourself: I’m helping you.»

My heart stumbles. «I don’t know why, but I don’t buy the bored guy story anymore.»

«Then what story do you believe?» He lifts an eyebrow, giving me the kind of look that makes my friends swoon.

But not me. Not happening.

…Maybe a little.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fall at his feet.

«I don’t know... I do know you’re a student. When I started high school, you were already here, so...»

«I’m flattered you noticed me.»

I clear my throat and start walking. «Me? No, it was more Elisa.»

He follows. «Elisa? Your friend with the pink hair?»

«So you did notice her.»

I won’t lie—it bugs me that he knew who she was but had no idea about me.

I sigh and gesture toward the main road. As always, the Cristoforo Colombo is packed with cars, speeding through the synchronized green lights.

«The hotel should be to the right,» he points out.

«Past the funeral home billboard?» I nod toward the sign showing three men in black suits, arms crossed, beneath a phone number. «Hope we won’t need to call that number anytime soon.»

«Would be hard to do if we were dead,» he remarks, his smirk almost amused—except his eyes say otherwise.

The more time I spend with Emanuele, the more my image of him shifts. He’s always the same person, yet somehow… different. Like a constantly changing shade of color, his personality revealing new tones with every moment.

«You know, I think you’re hiding something,» I say, voicing my thoughts.

He tilts his chin up, challenging me. «Funny. I was thinking the same about you.»

We turn the corner, and a huge Hotel Caravel sign looms over us.

«That should be it,» I say.

He looks up at the white, fairly nondescript building, its design only marked by narrow, elongated windows. I shiver; its boxy shape against the pale sky makes it seem empty and ghostly.

«I don’t see any others.»

«The note said I'd know the room number... but I have no idea.»

«What's the first number that comes to mind?»

I would’ve said I didn’t know, but a number pops into my head.

«Three-oh-nine.»

«Anything else?»

I think for a moment. «No, just three-oh-nine. But why is this happening to me? Like with the locker.»

A wave of hypochondria threatens to crash over me. What if I have a brain disease? I stop to catch my breath, pressing a hand to my chest.

«Hey, are you okay?»

He puts an arm around my shoulders, but I barely feel it. I'm trembling like a leaf, certain I'm about to faint.

«I'm scared... so scared.»

«You're alive, okay? Nothing terrible has happened.»

«What if I'm dying?»

He gives a faint smile. «That wouldn't make you any different from everyone else on the planet.»

I take a few shaky breaths. «You’re not great at comforting people.»

«I have to have some flaws, right?»

I lower my gaze, staring at a yellow leaf drowning in a puddle. «I don’t know why codes and numbers pop into my head. Something's wrong with me.»

«Give me the first answer that comes to mind. Why three-oh-nine?» he asks.

«The phone number on the funeral home poster, repeated three times.» My eyes widen as more connections flood in. «Oh my God. The locker where I found the instructions was eight-oh-three—same as the mural in front of the school… and the code to unlock it was whispered to me by a girl at the bus stop this morning. She even asked if the eight-oh-three bus passed there. That can’t be a coincidence. She knew everything!»

«See? Someone once said: 'Ask, and you shall receive.' You won’t get answers without first asking yourself the questions,» he says like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I press my palms to my temples. «But none of this makes sense. Who was that girl?»

I gasp, trying to slow my racing heart. I know I'm on the verge of another panic attack—the kind that strips me of any chance to prove I can handle this.

«I want to run away,» I blurt out. «Run away from everything.»

«Come here.»

He wraps his arms around me, and I sink into his chest, into his warmth and scent. My arms find their way around his waist. The cars rushing past on the wet asphalt are nothing compared to the storm in my mind.

«Who are you?» I whisper, trembling and breathless.

«No one could ask me a harder question,» he murmurs. «But know this—I won’t abandon you.»

How many times have I wished to hear those words? Since my dad's been gone, I've lived with the fear of being left behind. Haunted by a monster named loneliness. A void I navigate like a tightrope walker on a fragile wire.

He appears in a new light again—one I don’t want to let go, no matter how impossible it seems. I've known him for less than an hour, but it feels like he’s been with me much longer. Like he knows everything, sees everything. I feel so vulnerable. Maybe these emotions are tricking me into believing something that isn't real, but I cling to them with all I have.

«Do you promise?» I ask, unable to meet his eyes.

«I already have. I will, every time you need me to.»

This time, looking into his eyes feels like a necessity I can’t ignore. «Why?»

«Let’s find out together, Lilia.»

I sniffle, wiping my eyes with my palms. All my bravado, the confidence I fake, is just an attempt to keep my life from falling apart. The truth is, I feel alone in a way I can’t even explain to myself.