Archive of Our Own ^beta

Caro Luca,

Yeah I know this might not get there until after you're already on the train but I gotta get it out of my chest or I’ll die. Not literally. I'm just gonna miss writing letters once a week. I'm gonna miss reading them. That's crazy right? I'll be seeing you in less than a week, but I'll miss the stupid letters. 

The word 'stupid' is scratched out.

Not that I don't miss you.

This entire sentence is scratched out. Furiously. It's barely legible at all.

I mean, I miss you obviously

This is also scratched out.

"Maybe Alberto doesn't realize he can get a new sheet of paper," Giulia chuckles behind her hand, reading the letter over Luca's shoulder.

And the phone calls! Definitely gonna miss those! I dunno, I know you're gonna be here in person and it's gonna be so much better. And easier. I guess I'm just Excited! But also nervous. But not really! And now I'm only finishing this letter because Massimo's seen me writing it and if I throw another one away he's going to ask if something is wrong and Everything's fine! I'm just

'I'm just' is scratched out, one decisive dark line.

Viaggi sicuri!

-Alberto

Giulia hums softly, tilting her head.

She's wearing her 'I'm not buying it' face.

When she reaches for the letter, Luca lets her take it. Giulia's mom had checked the letterbox as they were leaving for the train station and handed it to him. Luca hasn't stopped smiling since - he loves Alberto's letters, he's going to miss them, too, so he doesn't think it's crazy at all.

Now he's…. Worried, though.

"I think he's just being goofy," Giulia says after a moment.

She hands the letter back with a smile, and Luca releases a breath. He reads the letter again a few times before deciding Giulia is probably right. Alberto wouldn't have really sent it if everything wasn't fine. Luca folds the letter up into its envelope and tucks the envelope between the pages of his book, L'universo, where he keeps the picture Alberto drew of the two of them and their vespa.

The sun is shining in through the windows, reflecting off the sea. The train rattles merrily as it approaches Portorosso. What comes into view first over the flat plain of the sea is the island - a vague shape on the horizon that grows larger and more recognizable by the second.

Luca's heart races the nearer it gets.

-

The platform is a bit crowded today.

Humans mill about, some waiting for the train itself to take them away, others waiting for loved ones to arrive. The train whistle blows. That distant huffing and chugging grows louder. Daniela doesn't know what to do with herself during these last few moments. It's not quite the same, hearing Luca's voice over the phone, reading his letters. She wants to see him with her own eyes. See how much he's grown. Make sure that he's safe and healthy. Hear about everything she's missed and everything he's learned.

Lorenzo nudges her with his elbow. When she looks at him, he lifts his eyebrows and nods his head past her - even on a human face, the meaning behind that expression is obvious. Daniela glances over her shoulder, and smiles fondly.

Alberto is standing beside Massimo, biting his lip to hide his grin, wringing his hands to hide his nervousness, bouncing up on his toes even though he doesn't need the extra height to see over anyone's heads. He shot up over the cold season, at least three inches. He's filled out more; larger hands, broader shoulders. He's gained some definition in his limbs. The shape of his face has lost some of its roundness. He's still as narrow as a stalk of kelp, but he doesn't look like a starving child anymore and his clothes aren't threadbare.

The train whistle blows.

The train blares through the tunnel, then, and pulls into the station, hissing out steam and creating a generally unpleasant amount of noise as it chugs slowly to a stop. That's something Daniela will never acclimate to: the surface is so loud. One final puff of steam is exhaled by the engine, and then the doors open.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Alberto rushes forward as humans begin stepping off. Halfway down the train, a compartment window snaps open. Luca shoves his whole upper body out of it - round-faced, bright-eyed, shouting,

"Alberto!"

"Luca!!"

Alberto, grinning, sprints for him at once.

Luca's waist follows his shoulders.

His left leg follows his waist.

"Oh, mother of pearl," Daniela murmurs exasperatedly, covering her face with one hand while Lorenzo and Massimo both chuckle.

She watches through her fingers as her son pulls himself out of the window of the train and flops directly into Alberto's outstretched arms, right at the moment that Alberto darts beneath the window to catch him. As Alberto lets Luca's feet drop but doesn't let them touch the ground, spinning him in a wide circle, arms clamped tight around Luca's middle. As the two of them whoop and laugh and exclaim their salutations.

Giulia appears in the window next, laughing, "Luca! Sei pazzo!"

"Sorry!"

Smushed against Alberto's chest, he doesn't look or sound a bit sorry.

Alberto finally stops swinging him around. They laugh and stagger against each other, hands clasping at elbows, knees bumping. Alberto throws his arms up in greeting and obvious invitation as he steps beneath the window again.

"Giulia!"

"Not in your life!" Giulia laughs.

She pushes up the window and disappears from view.

Alberto and Luca share a grin and grab hands and race to the step. They get there as Giulia is stepping off and she drops her bag as well as Luca's before the three of them embrace. They leap around together, a flurry of unrestrained movement and excited voices. Alberto hooks an arm around both of them and lifts and swings them around. Giulia squeals with delight, curling her knees up. She laughs along with Luca as Alberto totes them both across the platform and deposits them in front of their respective parents.

"Wow!" Giulia exclaims, righting her hat as it falls over her eyes, "Ragazzo forte!"

She ruffs Alberto's hair.

She has to reach up to do it, now.

"Ragazzo alto!" Luca adds with a grin, touching the top of his own head and then lifting up onto his toes to touch the top of Alberto's.

Alberto just stands there and grins at him.

Daniela wonders how it's possible for a boy to look bashful and smug at the same time.

-

That first evening back is like a dream come true.

They talk almost nonstop, the three of them. Exchanging letters and phone calls over the months really doesn't compare to seeing each other's faces, to being able to reach out and touch. They crowd into Alberto's room in the attic, up the ladder in the kitchen. It was used for storage before, and there are still a couple of large crates stacked against one wall, but the majority of the space is intrinsically Alberto .

He has strung up a hammock in the corner between the two small windows, and papered the walls with posters and drawings and photographs (all the ones Luca has sent in his letters), and cluttered the shelves with various items he's found and carvings he's made. An open chest has his clothes spilling out of it. A rusted and chipped sword is propped in the corner.

"Not bad," Giulia says with a glint in her eyes.

Alberto shrugs, feigning aloofness, "Yeah, it's alright. It's home. Or whatever."

He leans against the open windowsill, petting one of Machiavelli's kittens; doing a poor job, as always, of hiding how pleased he actually is.

Giulia and Luca share a grin.

-

Even after a late dinner (and dessert!) and many prolonged goodbyes, Luca hates to leave the Marcovaldos' - hates to leave Giulia when they've spent the the past nine months in each other's back pockets.

Hates to leave Alberto, full stop.

"Hey, I'll see you first thing in the morning," Alberto says, nudging Luca's arm with his fist. He hasn't stopped smiling, has never once been out of Luca's reach. "We'll go for a swim around the bay and then do the deliveries!"

"Hey! Aspetta un minuto! " Giulia interjects, puffing herself up in a playfully aggressive manner. She throws her hand out and whaps Alberto in the chest with the back of her fingers. "You do the winter deliveries!" She taps her own chest with her fingertips. "I do the summer deliveries! We agreed!"

"You can't drive the truck," Alberto asserts smugly, folding his arms.

Giulia squeaks indignantly. She whirls.

"Papá! You let me drive the truck, ya?"

"Di certo, Giulietta," Massimo calls back. He's standing outside the courtyard talking with Luca's parents. "If you can reach the pedals, you can drive the truck."

Giulia drags Alberto and Luca out to the front of the shop where the truck is parked. It's compact, like most other vehicles that navigate the narrow Portorosso streets - a grey-blue color with Pescheria Marcovaldo painted on both doors. Giulia yanks open the driver's side and climbs into the cab, sitting on the edge of the seat. She has gotten taller. Luca hadn't really noticed - not the way he noticed how much taller Alberto has gotten over the winter, how much deeper his laugh is, how much bigger his hands are when they fall on Luca's shoulders.

Giulia grips the steering wheel and sticks her legs out toward the pedals. Her sandaled feet barely touch them, no matter how she strains and stretches. She pulls herself forward by her grip on the wheel so that she's leaning back against the edge of the seat more than she’s sitting on it, and her feet connect.

She says, Aha! and looks triumphantly at Alberto.

"Can you reach the gear shift?" he asks, leaning his elbow against the open window of the door.

Giulia leans over and grips the gear shift.

"And mash the brake?"

Giulia cranes her head to peer below the dash, stretching out her foot toward the pedal. It's an effort, but she mashes it to the floor.

"And see out the window?"

Giulia gives him a nasty look.

Luca laughs behind his hand, hiding behind Alberto's broad back.

"I can still take the bike," Giulia says with as much dignity as she can muster as she climbs out of the truck, slamming the door.

"We can split the deliveries," Alberto offers, "There's like twice as many now. How about you take the loop around the piazza? You're familiar with most of those, anyway. I'll take the far side of town."

Giulia folds her arms and arches an eyebrow.

"You'll have less."

"But I'm driving farther." Alberto shrugs. "We'll get done about the same time."

"Hm."

"And then we can all have fun," Luca reminds her, nudging her lightly with his elbow, "We're not doing the race this year, remember?"

"Hm," Giulia says again, brighter, with a smile, "Good point, Luca! I almost forgot, I don't have to spend the whole summer training!" She laughs, and then becomes stern again. "But, Alberto! You have to show me how to drive the truck!"

She pokes Alberto in the chest, and he laughs - that airy, raspy laugh that Luca missed so much.

"I can't show you how to grow legs!"

This, of course, sets Giulia off into a passionate rant, half of it English, half of it Italian. Alberto matches her beat for beat, the two of them shouting and gesturing as if they have done it for years. It's loud, but it's affectionate. It's cathartic, seeing the relationship the two of them have built over the phone manifesting, physically. Luca watches them with a grin, his heart feeling so full it’s fit to burst.

-

It's been so long since he slept under water, Luca is worried he won't be able to do it. That he'll toss around in the kelp all night. That it will be weird.

But it's not.

It's so good to be home.

Genova is near the ocean, and they've gone to the beach almost every weekend, but Luca has had to be careful. He hasn't stayed in his natural form for any real length of time in months. It feels… well. Natural. It's nice having a tail and paddles and fins. The buoyancy of the water and the slight, constant current tugging at him. How quiet it is. How weightless he feels. It's good to just move and not have to worry about gravity, about stumbling and falling. It's nice seeing his mom and dad, and hearing his grandma's snores bubbling in the room.

Luca sleeps like a baby.

And he wakes with two webbed hands cupped around his face, shaking him playfully.

Above him, Alberto's grin is all mismatched teeth.

-

Alberto is only sweet that first morning.

Every morning after, when he comes to wake Luca up at the first sign of dawn, when the tide is at its lowest and the ocean is still grey and lackluster, Alberto pounces on Luca and barrel rolls him out of his shelf like a saltwater crocodile. The changes he's gone through over the past few months are much more subtle in his human form.

He's different in the water. Built for bringing down larger prey, his whole body, from head to tail, is lean muscle. He's lost most of his adolescent teeth, their edges rounded and blunt; his adult teeth are hardly intimidating when he spends all his time grinning and laughing. His purple scales and skin have a more silvery sheen that reflect the sunlight, and Luca sometimes has a hard time seeing him coming if they get separated.

He's faster. 

He's stronger like this.

He's… a little more aggressive.

Luca isn't used to physical play (soccer isn't exactly a contact sport, and Luca doesn’t play that often besides). Alberto has apparently been craving it. So Luca doesn't protest - he's happy as long as his friend is happy, and he missed Alberto, and he does enjoy wrestling and racing with him - unless Alberto hurts him by accident. And in those rare cases, a small yelp or a lash with his tail will suffice.

Alberto lets him go at once, his face remorseful.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"It's okay," Luca winces.

He's clutching his knee. Alberto twisted it.

"Luca, I'm so sorry," Alberto says again, hovering nearby. His earfins are flattened against his skull, his pupils huge and round.

"Alberto, it's fine. See?"

Luca moves his leg to prove it, bends his knee, rolls his ankle. It only hurts a little. Alberto swims closer with a frown pinching his features and lightly grasps Luca's leg. Luca lets him turn and examine it. Lets him feel the muscle underneath to make sure it isn't swollen. Lets him run his thumb along the fin at the back of his calf to make sure he didn't tear or damage the thick cartilage.

"Sorry," he says again, softly.

Luca isn't going to tell him that it's fine a third time. He takes Alberto's wrist and lifts Alberto's arm up to his face. Alberto quirks an eyebrow, but lets him. Luca sinks his teeth into the meat of Alberto's arm.

Alberto yelps and yanks away.

He laughs, "You bit me!" 

It must not have really hurt - Luca still has his adolescent teeth, and his adult teeth won't be as pointed as Alberto's, anyway.

"So we're even," Luca declares.

He snaps Alberto with his tail, hitting him right in the narrow place on his belly where his shirt billows up around his ribs, and is rewarded with a sharp laugh as he dives for the seafloor. Luca is more at home where he can camouflage himself among the grass and weave among the rocks. The terrain of the bay is familiar and safe.

Alberto still catches him within a few minutes.

Luca almost never catches Alberto unless Alberto lets him.

-

They've had a couple of rainy days so far.

One stint lasts almost a whole week.

Alberto goes about his deliveries, business as usual - if some people balk at his broader smile full of sharp teeth and monster-esque features, he pretends not to notice. If it bothers him, he doesn't show it. Luca usually stays in the truck during deliveries. But every time Alberto gets out and starts to change under the heavy raindrops, dollops of purple scales freckling his bronze skin, and goes to knock on someone's door, Luca's stomach drops, and he climbs out, as well.

Alberto chuckles, "I got this, Luca. You don't have to."

Luca can't figure out how to say Yes, I do.

-

Giulia drops an overburdened knapsack at her feet and spreads her arms wide.

"Isola del Mare!"

It sprawls out before her, up and up and up. Giulia puts her hands on her hips and admires the small rocky beach, the hill that climbs from a gentle slope to a towering cliff in the near distance, right up into the clouds and the arresting blue sky. The high grass and swaths of round bare rock, the trees lush with summer growth. She can't keep the smile off her face.

"Fantastica! It's beautiful here!" she says, turning to Luca and Alberto.

"Isn't it?" Alberto agrees.

He finishes tying the boat to a stake that's been driven into the beach in lieu of a proper dock, and he takes out another knapsack, swinging it over his shoulder.

"Wait til you see the stars," Luca says excitedly, "They're so much brighter looking out toward the sea than they are in town, and way brighter than they are in Genova!"

"I can't wait!"

They trek steadily upward until they find a small campsite in a place that's slightly more level than the rest of the hill, a little more than halfway up. There's a circle of stones for a fire pit, and a pile of wood under the nearest tree, and the grass has been bent or scuffed away by repetitive use. Alberto still comes here every now and then, but he hasn't gone back into the tower - at least as far as Luca is aware.

They set up their camp. Some bedrolls and blankets and pillows. A cooler with sandwiches and jars of water. A portable radio.

Then they set about showing Giulia the island.

They find random items hidden among the tall grass, scattered over the hillside. They jump off the cliffs with abandon, and spend hours in the turquoise water, and stretch out on the rocks under the sun to dry off. They eat the sandwiches Massimo prepared for them. They watch the sunset together. Dusk settles over the island, and they chase around fireflies in the dimming light, watching as they multiply, growing brighter and bolder.

Alberto catches one between his cupped hands, and chuckles when he lets it out. It's glow illuminates his face for a moment.

"Remember when I told you these were like, baby jellyfish or something?" he asks Luca.

"Yeah," Luca says fondly.

Giulia laughs.

Eventually, the stars come out in full, swathed in the deepest hues of purple, red, and blue.

The three of them lay in the grass in a circle with their heads together.

Giulia points excitedly.

"That constellation is called Lyra! The lyre! That's a - "

"I know what a liar is," Alberto says.

"It's a string instrument, Alberto," Luca says, stifling a laugh.

"Oh."

Giulia chuckles, but continues, tracing the shape of it, "It's associated with the Greek musician Orpheus. They say he could charm even stones with his music, and his best known stories are the one where he tries to save his wife, Eurydice, from the underworld; and for being a companion of Jason and the Argonauts."

"Oooh, okay, I've heard that story, I think."

"Mhm! It's a favorite in Portorosso. Without Orpheus and his music, the Argonauts wouldn't have gotten past the Sirens - " Alberto and Luca both scoff and roll their eyes. Giulia continues anyway, " - whose beautiful voices enticed the sailors into jumping overboard or crashing their ships on the rocks. When the Argonauts approached the islands where the Sirens lived, Orpheus drew his lyre and played music that drowned out their calls."

"I thought you said there were fish up there," Alberto complains.

"There are!" Luca says, sitting upright, "There’s Pisces! And Eridanus! Cetus!"

"Those are southern constellations, sciocco, " Giulia says, rolling her eyes, "You can't see them from Italy, at least not during the summer."

"Well. Still," Luca says, settling back down, "There's a whole area of the sky called the Sea! It's where all the water constellations are clustered together. I can show you in the book when we go home, Alberto!"

Alberto bats a hand at the sky.

"Nah, I'll wait. We'll see them in person eventually." He hesitates. "Right?"

"Of course!" Luca exclaims.

Alberto huffs out a little laugh, sounding relieved. He parrots quietly, "Of course." Luca reaches across and puts his hand on Alberto's chest. Alberto shoves him off playfully. Watching them, Giulia smiles, trying to contain her excitement so she doesn't break the moment.

-

Luca sits in the truck, yawning and trying to shake the sleep off, while Alberto loads the last crate of fish into the back. Giulia has already stuck her tongue out at them both and taken off on the bike (the competitive instincts that drove her to race now drive her to beat Alberto home every morning). The windows are down, and Luca can hear her voice carry across the piazza as she loudly and enthusiastically greets her first customer a few streets away.

Alberto looks in at him.

"I forgot something, be right back!"

He runs back into the Pescheria. He comes out carrying something large, but Luca is still half-dozing and he doesn't see what it is before Alberto has stowed it in the back among the crates of ice and fish. The truck rocks as Alberto climbs in behind the wheel and slams the door closed. He flashes a grin at Luca and starts the engine.

They don't talk much.

Alberto wiggles the radio dial around until the station comes in more clearly, and the cabin fills with music, interspersed with morning announcements. Alberto hums along, drumming his palms against the wheel. Luca sits with his forehead against the top of the door, letting the wind ruffle his hair, letting the rocking motion of the truck and the sound of Alberto's voice ease him into a half-sleep. By now, he's memorized the route. He recognizes the turns and stops.

So it throws him off when Alberto takes a detour.

Even the truck protests the sudden upward climb until Alberto shifts it into another gear. Then it bounces merrily along the cobblestoned alley. Alberto parks in front of a house that isn't one of the usual stops, and Luca lifts his head, looking around.

Alberto is already climbing out of the truck.

"What are you doing?" Luca asks, hushing his voice for some reason.

"Nothing, I'll be right back."

Alberto grabs the thing out of the back - it's a gramophone. Luca thinks it might be the same gramophone that Alberto had on the island. The "magic singing lady machine". The one he dashed to the floor and broke because Luca hurt him. The side of the box is cracked and the horn is dented. Luca crawls across the bench seat and sticks his head out the window, watching Alberto tuck the gramophone under his arm and step up onto the small patio between a potted tomato plant and a fold-out chair.

He knocks on the door and waits.

An old man answers, "Buon giorno? Ah, Alberto!" He smiles. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, Signor Tommaso? This is yours."

Alberto hands him the gramophone.

Tommaso looks at it in surprise, and then he throws his head back and laughs.

"Mama mia," he chuckles, "So it was you, Alberto? You gave me a heart attack that night!"

Alberto looks appropriately penitent.

"Sorry, Signor."

"It is all right, ragazzo. You didn't mean any harm." Signor Tommaso looks the gramophone over for a moment, and then hands it back to Alberto. "It's been over a year," he says with a smile, "I already replaced it. You have this one. Enjoy it! It's had plenty of love over the years from me - it could use some fresh young ears."

Alberto hesitates.

He looks down at the gramophone. Up at Tommaso. 

"Are you sure?" he asks, "I… stole it."

Tommaso turns him around by the shoulders, claps him lightly. "If memory serves, I believe I knocked it off the boat. Consider it a gift now, Alberto. Buon giorno!" Tommaso spots Luca leaning out of the window; Luca feels his face go red and ducks down behind the door, but the old man only laughs and waves at him before he disappears back into his house.

Alberto puts the gramophone in the back of the truck again and climbs into the front seat.

He sits there, gripping the wheel with both hands.

Luca settles back into his own seat on the opposite side of the cabin, unsure of what to say. After a few long seconds, Alberto starts the truck. It's only after the rumbling of the engine fills the silence and they're on their way again that he says, a bit defensively, as if sensing the question Luca couldn't get off of his tongue, "I mean. I scavenged most of that stuff. But I did steal some of it off of boats."

"I don't think anyone is mad at you, Alberto," Luca says honestly.

Alberto shrugs, keeps his eyes on the lane.

"Yeah, well. I know. But still."

-

"Just pick one!" Alberto laughs.

He throws his hands in the air.

Luca hums indecisively and bounces on his toes, looking through the glass case where the gelato flavors are on display. He just doesn't know whether he wants to try something new or get one of his favorites.

"Pick two then," Alberto suggests.

He's laving his tongue over his own gelato - a mixture of mango and strawberry. Giulia joins Alberto with her own cone. There's mint green on her nose but she doesn't seem to care. She exaggerates how yummy the gelato is when she tastes, humming loudly, cupping her cheek. Alberto follows her lead.

"Stupefacente!"

"It's so good!"

"Okay okay okay!" Luca shouts, flapping his hands.

The mustachioed man behind the counter is incredibly patient while Luca points out the one he wants - he settles on an old favorite. Giulia laughs, "Of course he chooses cioccolato." but Alberto is exasperated as they leave the shop.

"What's the point in waffling around if you're just gonna settle on that one every time?"

It's too hot to be out under the full sun today. The three of them retreat to the Pescheria courtyard, where they perch on the wall in the close shade of the tree, facing the piazza and the pebbled beach. A bunch of kids are beating the heat by taking to the water. Some of them swim out to the buoy and back. Others are tossing a ball across a net. Others still are splashing and shrieking in the shallow water.

On Alberto's other side, Giulia sighs.

Her eyes are closed.

"This is nice," she says, smiling, "Being able to enjoy Portorosso without worrying about the race."

"You wanna race, don't you?" Alberto asks.

He licks the lingering stickiness off his thumb, kicking his bare heels against the wall.

Giulia blows out a sigh, louder; looks at them guiltily and admits in a rush, after a single intake of breath, "I kinda wanna race."

Alberto laughs.

"Nothing's stopping us," Luca points out, "We can do it just for fun this year."

"And we don't have to worry about training," Alberto adds.

"Or beating Ercole," Giulia laughs.

"You've got a while to think about it," Alberto says, "Sign-ups don't start until the end of July."

A shout makes them all look toward the beach: "Alberto!" A boy is looking at them, waving his arms. When he sees that he has their attention, he points out into the bay. He's bouncing, frantic. Luca looks - and doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The buoy bobbing in the distance. The fishing boats further out. The waves rippling across the surface.

Some kids swimming.

Alberto leaps off the wall and in two quick bounds, dives into the water at the end of the breakwall.

It's shallow there, and Giulia shouts in alarm. Luca is already sliding down the wall and chasing after Alberto, but he balks at the edge. He barely catches a glimpse of Alberto below the surface before he's gone, darting out into the bay. Luca looks again, in the direction Alberto is heading, twisting his hands into the front of his shirt. Giulia stumbles into him and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him.

"What's going on?!"

"I dunno!" Luca gasps when Alberto surfaces. He points. "He's there!"

He's lifting one of the smaller kids out of the water, a round little boy about six years old. Luca realizes now that he was caught in the current that swirls left out of the bay and into the rocks. Alberto doesn't seem to have any trouble managing his charge or the current. He keeps the boy's head above water and brings him swiftly back into calmer water.

Luca and Giulia run down to meet him.

A crowd of adults has formed by now and the other kids have returned to the beach. Cheers and whistles and applause break out when, moments later, Alberto hefts the boy out of the water and carries him up the beach. A woman wearing an orange dress with flowers on it reaches out to take him - the boy is sniffling, a few wet coughs sneaking out of him, but he doesn't seem any worse for wear.

"Grazie, Alberto," the boy's mother says.

Her relief is obvious. 

"No problem, signora."

Alberto ruffles the boy's dripping hair with his webbed hand. He shakes himself dry. He high-fives a couple of the older kids and dismisses the freely-given praise of the adults - "Bravo, Alberto! Well done!" A large teenage girl wearing a red tank and shorts approaches him, looking exasperated. She's carrying a pair of goggles, soaking wet, like she was on her way out there when Alberto intervened. She says, "You're not even on duty today, Marcovaldo."

He gives her a helpless grin and shrugs, "You gotta be faster, Colette!"

She laughs, "Ha! I'd need a motor to be faster than you!"

Giulia punches Alberto in the arm when he climbs the steps to get to them.

"Santa mozzarella, you scared me!"

"It's not like I had time to explain!" he protests, rubbing his arm and grinning.

"Alberto," Luca exclaims, "That was amazing!"

"Not really," he chuckles, "It happens twice a week. Humans are horrible at swimming."

-

"Well well well, if it isn't Portorosso's favorite sea monster."

Alberto rolls his eyes when he hears this and doesn't stop walking.

Giulia will spend an hour talking with her mom over the phone; in the meantime, Alberto has been showing Luca all the ways he's found that lead down to the water, and all the small, private beaches. One of those paths evidently takes them past the Visconti residence. It's been a long time since Luca heard that particular voice, but he recognizes it immediately. He lifts his eyes and finds Ercole looking down at him with disdain from a wrought iron balcony. There's a basket of flowers adorning the rail that Ercole is lounging against, a watering can at his elbow.

His whiskers are just as thin as they were last year.

"And piccoletto," Ercole adds, narrowing his eyes.

Luca frowns up at him.

Last time he saw Ercole, the older boy had tried to impale him and Alberto with a harpoon. Luca jogs a few steps to catch up with Alberto, looping his hand around Alberto's arm. Alberto's eyes are trained straight ahead, his mouth set into a firm frown, steps never wavering as he marches up the lane. Luca watches Ercole watch them as they pass beneath the balcony. When there are no further provocations, Luca relaxes and looks away, letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

Then he hears a metallic thunk.

And Ercole's sardonic, "Whoops! Clumsy me!"

Alberto's hand hits Luca in the chest and shoves him backward. Luca stumbles and sits hard, scraping his hands, just as the watering can hits the cobblestone where he'd been standing. It bangs and bounces. It splatters water across Alberto's front, changing his legs and the arm he throws up pointlessly to shield his face.

His tail is showing.

It lashes the pavement when he turns.

"Ercole!"

It comes out sounding more like a snarl than a name. Half of Alberto's face has changed, pointed mismatched teeth and one slit pupil. The few fins he has are flared.

Ercole looks unnerved, but he only scoffs.

Heart beating in his throat, Luca scrambles to his feet and grabs Alberto by the arm, murmuring, "Silenzio, Bruno! " There's a rumbling sound near his ear, emanating from Alberto's chest - Luca realizes with a jolt that Alberto is growling, still glaring up at Ercole, still baring his teeth. But he lets himself be led away when Luca starts pulling on his arm and brushing the water from his face.

His scales and fins fade.

The growl doesn't.

It settles between them like a steady roll of thunder, vibrating up Alberto's throat, raising the hair on Luca's arms and the nape of his neck. After they've rounded the corner and Ercole is no longer in sight, Luca points it out, his voice low, "Alberto? You're growling."

It stops at once.

"No," Alberto huffs.

He still looks angry. But also ashamed.

-

"He growled," Giulia repeats it like she doesn't know whether to believe it or not, "At Ercole?"

"Mhm."

Luca nods his head.

Giulia gives him an arched eyebrow, then turns back to the window they're both leaning out of. They're in Giulia's room. The courtyard is empty, but the voices of Alberto and Massimo carry over from the dock across the wall where they're preparing to set out the nets. Luca drums his fingers on the windowsill.

"Well," Giulia says, "He did almost hit you with a watering can. I would have growled, too."

"I don't know," Luca says uncertainly.

"Ercole's probably been giving him a hard time."

"Alberto hasn't mentioned it."

"He wouldn't," Giulia sighs.

Luca silently agrees.

"I'll ask Papá about it tonight," she says, "You take him out for a swim. Work off some of that wnergy. Maybe he'll sleep better after."

Something awful snags in Luca's chest. He glances at Giulia.

"Has he been sleeping badly?"

Giulia looks caught.

"Uhhh….. No!" She bats a hand and steps away from the window, but doesn't seem to have a destination in mind and ends up idling in the middle of the narrow room. She avoids Luca's gaze when he turns to face her. "I mean - what? He's fine! I just meant it will take his mind off of what happened with Ercole!"

"Giulia," Luca stresses, wringing his hands.

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, murmurs, "Perdonami. He's been having nightmares." She clasps her hands together, looking at Luca imploringly. "I promised I wouldn't tell, Luca!"

"I-I won't say anything."

It's hard to get the words out of his mouth.

-

Alberto is almost impossible to see in the water, even at night.

If Luca lets his eyes unfocus, Alberto blends right into the deep, murky blue of the moonlit waters. It turns out a nighttime swim is exactly what they both need. Alberto doesn't want to spend the entire time racing or playing. After the first few rounds of tag, when Alberto plows into Luca and sends them both spinning and laughing, Alberto simply hangs onto him, their elbows hooked together, content to drift along with the current near the surface and just talk.

It's liberating and calming, for both of them.

Luca's parents said he could stay the night with the Marcovaldos, so when he and Alberto get back, they climb into the hide-out and stretch out beneath the stars. Giulia set out their usual pillows and an extra blanket. Her bedroom light is off and the shutters are closed.

Alberto flops onto his back beside Luca and releases a contented breath.

He digs a fist into his eye.

He yawns wide.

There's a gap where one of his bottom molars is missing, a jut of white poking through his gums. Alberto's eyes are closed, so he doesn't know Luca is looking at him. He squeezes his eyes tighter, his brow pinching, mouth twisting. He rubs his jaw with his palm. That rumble starts up again, faintly. Luca only notices because he's listening for it.

"You're growling again, Alberto," he says.

"No I'm -"

Alberto cuts the sentence off when he hears the growl for himself, the way it slightly distorts his voice. The way it warbles, catching on the vowels. He opens his eyes and stares up at the star-freckled sky through the canopy. The growling stops.

"Do your teeth hurt?" Luca asks.

Alberto sighs. He closes his eyes again.

"I guess. Yeah."

"They have medicine for when your head hurts."

"Tried that. Didn't do anything."

Luca hums in thought, circling his knees with his arms and resting his chin on them. "There's a kelp you can chew that soothes your gums."

Alberto lifts his head. "Is there...?"

"Yeah," Luca says, then rocks decisively to his feet, "I'll go get it for you! There's some growing nearby - I saw it when we were swimming."

Luca is already down the tree (and has leapt over Caligula as the tortoise slowly crosses the courtyard to munch on Massimo's tomato plants) by the time Alberto has sat up and leaned over the edge of the platform, calling, "You don't have to! Luca!"

"I know! I'll be right back!"

It only takes a couple of minutes to find the patch he's looking for among the rocks, to pluck a handful of blades, and return to the surface. Luca carefully tears and rolls and wraps the long wet leaves into a tight knot (the way his mom showed him), until it is small enough to fit in his mouth. Alberto is lying face-down on the planks, cradling his face in both hands, when Luca climbs back into the hide-out and sits beside him.

Luca offers him the ball of kelp, "Here."

Alberto props up on his elbows and takes it, looking at it skeptically, turning it over between his fingers. He looks at Luca.

Then pops it into his mouth and chews.

He makes a disgusted face when the juice hits his tongue, and shakes his head.

Luca doesn't remember it tasting that bad - but he was also practically a baby then. He flaps his hands at Alberto and says, "Keep chewing! You have to hold it in your mouth for at least a minute - you'll feel it working, I promise!"

Alberto pushes himself upright. Apparently this is not a task he can take lying down. His face is contorted. He makes eye contact with Luca, his cheeks bulging, and points to his throat and shakes his head.

Luca shakes his head, as well.

"You don't have to swallow it. Just chew it."

Alberto cups his forehead, relieved. Then he cups his hands around his mouth to keep from spitting it out too soon. He keeps chewing doggedly, groaning and scuffing his heels against the boards, squeezing his eyes closed, shaking his head, smacking his hands against his knees. After a few seconds, some of the tension leaves his face.

He stops being so antsy.

Luca finishes his mental countdown.

"Okay, you can spit it out now -"

Alberto throws himself forward to grab the edge of the platform and spits a huge glop of dark green out onto the pavement. He groans and shudders with his whole body and spits the lingering taste out - twice - before he sits back.

"Ugh!" Alberto wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, cupping his face. He looks at Luca, offended. "Luca, that was one of the worst things I've ever put in my mouth - and I have put a lot of stuff in my mouth."

"But did it help?" Luca asks hopefully.

Alberto sits there a moment, assessing, massaging his cheeks with both hands.

"Yeah," he says, flashing Luca a tentative smile, "It did help, actually. Thanks."

Alberto reaches into his mouth then, and winces, and yanks out an entire tooth at the roots. He leans to spit some blood over the edge of the platform. Luca bares his own teeth in sympathy. Alberto rubs his jaw thoughtfully as he looks the tooth over.

"That one's been bothering me a while."

He rears back and tosses the tooth way over the wall, and it sails out of sight, disappearing into the waves. Or maybe clattering into the bottom of someone's boat. Alberto bumps Luca with the back of his hand.

"Thanks," he says again, "That kelp really loosened it up."

"No problem," Luca says.

He's cupping his own jaw now, feeling over his teeth with his tongue.

"Better hope you don't go through this at school," Alberto teases, sinking back onto his pillow again and nudging Luca with his foot. He has his finger in his mouth again, feeling the gaps between his teeth. The pointed one that's coming in already. "Your teeth will seriously just start popping out with no warning. It sucks. But the new ones burst through your gums in a couple of hours. Next day, boom! New tooth."

"Are they your… human teeth?"

"No, they're your fish teeth. Once they get in they turn into human teeth. I dunno. It's weird. I've cut my mouth a couple of times because I forget that they're in there."

"How long have they been doing that?"

"About a couple of months, I guess? I didn't really notice they were coming out until I swallowed one."

"You swallowed one?"

"Yeah," Alberto laughs, "Eating pizza."

He yawns again. Stretches out, arms overhead, toes splayed, back arching. Luca stifles a yawn of his own behind his hand. His eyes are heavy. He puts his pillow by Alberto's and grabs the blanket. It's more of a comforting weight than anything else. Luca knows he'll get too warm in his sleep and kick it off. He pulls it up, anyway, and doesn't mind when Alberto blindly paws at it to pull some of it over himself.

-

Massimo lets them take the truck one day (after the work is done) so they can visit Portorosso's nearest neighboring town, Verdecitta. It's a twenty minute drive up into the mountains, along a cliff-hugging road with a beautiful view of the ocean. The town comes abruptly into view after cresting a hill, picturesque in the same way that Portorosso is: Stacked houses with green plaster walls leaning over narrow cobblestone lanes, held together by clotheslines and sheer tenacity as they roll up and down with the landscape. A piazza with gelato shops and pizzerias and tailors, with kids playing soccer and elders playing cards.

Verdecitta's outstanding feature is it's bookshop.

It's little more than a cubby wedged between two other shops, with three different steps leading up into three different rooms that are packed tightly with shelves overflowing with books and magazines. Some of them are new with glossy covers, some of them have been a little more loved and sport worn edges and dog-eared pages. A young lady sitting on a stool just inside the open door greets the three of them happily, " Ciao! Let me know if you need help finding anything."

Luca and Giulia run between the shelves, reading titles aloud, combing through genres one at a time. Alberto follows them with his hands in his pockets, and lingers in the comic book section, reading Donald Duck, while they geek out over the encyclopedias.

Genova has a public library (Giulia's mom got Luca a card so he could check out as many books as he wants, whenever he wants). It's much bigger than this little shop, and better organized. But there is an undeniable charm here. There are plants tucked up in the higher shelves near the slanted windows, their vines creeping between the books. There are stacks of faded magazines, and clippings posted at the edges of book cases: recipes and positive affirmations and copies of printings of paintings.

After twenty minutes of browsing, Luca and Giulia have a formidable stack. They sort through it, trying to pick out their favorites, counting their coins and coming up short.

Luca bites his thumbnail. "I guess I don't need A History of Italian Artisans."

"I could put back Brunhilda's Meravigliosa Avventura," Giulia supposes.

Alberto rolls his eyes and drops his comic back onto the shelf. He fishes his own money out of his pocket and slaps it on top of their stack of books.

"Here," he says, sounding put-upon, trying not to smile but failing miserably when their faces light up so brightly, "Just get them all."

Giulia squeals, "Grazi, amore!"

She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. 

"Yeah, whatever. It's no big deal."

Alberto hooks an arm around her waist and hugs her back, while Luca holds his other hand and does a little victory dance. They collect their money and their stack of books and wind their way through the shelves once more to the front of the shop. Suddenly Giulia snags the back of Luca's shirt and pulls him to a stop, letting Alberto round the corner ahead of them.

Luca looks at her.

She points to a book on the shelf to their left.

Luca gasps when he sees it.

"We should get it!" Luca whispers.

Giulia is already pulling the thin volume off the shelf and deftly slipping it in between two of the books in Luca's arms. Luca puts A History of Italian Artisans in the reshelving bin at the end of the aisle, and they run to catch up with Alberto.

They pay for the books (the young lady compliments Luca on his choices while Giulia pesters Alberto about learning to drive the truck). They get gelato after (Luca spends five minutes deciding between chocolate and mango (Alberto just buys both to save time)). Verdecitta flows down into a lush valley and up a steep rise. It isn't difficult, then, to find a place to park the truck at the edge of town, where they can sit in the back and have a clear view of the ocean as the feet of the mountain fall out before them.

Stretching out miles below, the ocean looks like it goes on forever, sparkling under the sinking sun, dotted with rocks near the shores and isles further out.

Alberto doesn't feel confident making the downhill trip home in the dark; he doesn't say so, but once he realizes just how late it's gotten he starts hassling them to get in the truck. The three of them fit comfortably on the bench seat, shoulder to shoulder. Giulia pulls their bag of books into her lap and rifles through it.

"Thanks again for helping us get our books, Alberto," Giulia says, finding the one she's looking for and pulling it out. She hands it to Luca.

Luca holds it out to Alberto.

"This one is for you!" he says.

"A catalogue," Giulia says with a smile, "To give you some ideas when you're refurbishing your own beat-up old Vespa!"

Alberto has one hand resting on the wheel, the other clutching the keys that dangle from the ignition switch. He's staring at the book in Luca's hands with his mouth open, his green eyes wide. It's a brand new edition of a monthly catalogue, the binding sleek and glossy, the pages crisp. A Vespa, a blue one, decorates the cover.

Alberto recovers from his surprise and looks as if he might cry, his eyes shining.

"You guys didn't have to do that!" he says, belatedly taking the book from Luca.

"Yes we did," Luca insists.

"Don't be so sentimental, Alberto," Giulia says soothingly, with a little laugh, "Your fish face will scare the locals! This isn't Portorosso."

Alberto laughs, rubbing his eye with his fist. He flips eagerly through the book, skimming the articles, admiring the photographs, exclaiming when he sees something he likes and shoving the pages at Luca and Giulia. Luca gladly shares his enthusiasm, holding the other half. After a few minutes of this, Giulia reaches around Luca, grasping for the book, and declares that she's made a mistake.

Alberto reluctantly sets it aside so he can drive them home.

He fills the cabin with his excited voice.

-

"Someone's playing a movie?" Luca asks.

He, Giulia, and Alberto are sitting on the edge of the fountain enjoying their afternoon gelato when Giulia delivers this bit of news.

She shrugs.

"Maria Ricci's mother has a cousin who works in theater that lets them borrow films over the summer," Giulia says, "She sets up a sheet on the wall behind the meccanica and invites everyone to watch. Well. I don't usually get invited. But we can probably watch the movie from Signora Di Paolo's balcony! She let me sit there the year before last."

"Ciao! Alberto!" Maria Ricci shouts across the piazza, and Alberto (as well as Giulia and Luca) turn toward her, "You're coming tonight, right? My cousin got us a movie all the way from America! Signora e il Vagabondo! "

Alberto cups his hand around his mouth to reply, "No grazie! We have plans!"

She looks disappointed - full on pouts, narrows her eyes in Giulia's and Luca's direction for a brief moment - but doesn't press the matter and leaves with her group of friends. Alberto shoves the rest of his cone into his mouth.

"Look at Signor Popolare over here," Giulia murmurs.

"Do we have plans?" Lucas asks.

Alberto hums an affirmative. He pokes Giulia in the side, says with his mouthful, "Watching from Signora Di Paolo's balcony!"

Giulia rolls her eyes, but smiles.

Signora Di Paolo does let them sit out on her balcony during the film (she even offers them a can of biscotti and some milk). The sun has already set, and there are very few street lights lit in Portorosso. The yard below is full of kids of varying ages all clustered together, most sitting on the ground or on a friend or older sibling's lap, others on chairs or pillows, all of them talking excitedly with one another. Maria is in the middle front, dominating the attention.

It makes Luca grateful to be out of the way.

(It reminds him of school assemblies. Not his favorite.)

He and Giulia and Alberto have a great view, and plenty of room to spread out if they wanted. (They don't want to. They're sitting elbow-to-elbow with their legs stuck out between the wrought iron posts, swinging in the open air.)

The projector is a hulking thing that Maria Ricci's father sets up on a small, sturdy table at the back of the crowd. Her mother and auntie pin up the white bedsheet and then cut out the overhead light so that the yard falls into semidarkness. The projector clicks and clatters. Fuzzy light flickers over the sheet as the film starts rolling, coalescing after a few moments into a series of color images.

_ "In the whole history of the world there is but one thing that money can not buy. . . to wit - the wag of a dog's tail." Josh Billings _

Over the school year, Giulia's mom let Luca and Giulia go to the theater in Genova. It was a large dark room with individual seats and all the popcorn they could eat. It was okay. But Giulia wanted to see the newest monster movie, even if it was a poor interpretation of "sea monsters". Luca spent the majority of the film clutching the seat in front of him and avoiding looking at the screen; the monster in question reminded him eerily of uncle Ugo. And he didn't really know how to process his species being villainized in such an absurd way.

This is a much better experience.

An animated movie about two dogs having adventures and falling in love. It's silly, but it's wholesome, and Luca is instantly enamored with it.

Giulia protests under her breath, "But where's all the action?"

Alberto agrees, "It's kinda boring." But it's his first film, and he quickly becomes just as invested as Luca is. He laughs during the scene at the zoo, and sighs during the spaghetti scene (Giulia rolls her eyes; "Sono cani!" ). He sits fully upright against the railing when the Tramp is getting hauled off to the pound, and Luca sees how glossy his green eyes are, reflecting the light from the flickering screen.

He hums Belle Notte as the three of them traverse the rooftops on their way home. He says it's to annoy Giulia, who protests the noise at the top of her voice, but Luca still hears him humming it as they're laying in the hide-out and he's drifting off to sleep.

-

"The rest of the crates are coming down today," Massimo announces at breakfast.

Alberto's face lights up. It's an incredible sight.

"Seriously...?" he asks, tentative despite it.

"Sì, figlio."

Giulia grins when she hears this - partly because it warms her heart, mostly because of the look on Alberto's face when he hears it. He gets red as a tomato behind all those freckles, and he suddenly becomes very interested in his scrambled eggs even though he can barely chew for trying not to smile. There are only five or six crates left up there in the attic, and Alberto has never complained about them taking up his space.

(He's probably just grateful to have space.)

Maybe this will help him feel like less of an add-on and more of a permanent fixture.

Luca is helping his parents out around the farm today, so it's just the Marcovaldos.

A family exercise.

After finishing breakfast, and bringing in the day's catch, and making the deliveries, they get started on the crates. Massimo has already brought two of them down by the time Giulia and Alberto get back to the Pescheria. The crates are in the dining room, where the table has been pushed back against the wall to make more space, their contents sorted in smaller, more manageable piles.

Most are tools of the trade.

There are spare hooks, buoys, line for netting. These get packed into an empty crate and taken down to the back room of the Pescheria. Another crate is full of glass jars - Massimo doesn't remember why he had them in the first place.

"Can I have some of these?" Alberto asks, flipping the gasket to pop the seal on one of the jars and then snapping it closed again, and then opening it again, and snapping it closed again.

"Take as many as you like, Alberto," Massimo says.

Alberto scoots the entire crate of them back to the foot of the ladder.

"We're supposed to be cleaning them out!" Giulia laughs.

"Hey, mind your own business!" Alberto says.

Another crate is full of books and magazines that are at least a decade old, all of them about gardening. Tips for growing vegetables, mainly. Some of them are about flowers. There is a rusty trowel, and a single glove, and some ancient packets of seeds (verona chicory, peppers, pumpkins, and zucchina), and a bag of half-used dirt in the bottom.

"The only thing I was ever able to grow are the pomodoros," Massimo chuckles.

"But there's a grape vine in the yard," Alberto says.

"It is Italy," Massimo says dismissively, "There are always grape vines."

One crate contains Giulia's clothes from when she was a baby, and some other memorabilia from the years her parents were married. Massimo looks over each item with incredible fondness and acquiesces when Giulia demands to take the crate to her room for safe keeping. She wants to look at everything more closely, in her own time.

"Hey," Alberto says, "We're supposed to be getting rid of stuff!"

"Fatti gli affari tuoi!" Giulia snaps.

Alberto is the one who pulls out the photo album. A photo slips free of the pages and slides to the floor. Alberto bends to pick it up - and bursts into tears when he sees it.

He laughs so hard he almost throws up.

Giulia snatches it out of his hand.

The photograph features Giulia herself, hardly more than a year old: an incredibly round baby girl with a headful of red curls, sitting upright in a frilly blue and white dress, with a bow in her hair. A bow that is easily three times the size of her head.

"That's incredible!" Alberto gasps, banging his fist against the floor, still crying with laughter. He wheezes out, "The stupid bow...!"

"I didn't choose the bow!!" Giulia asserts heatedly, "Non ridere di me! Sembreresti altrettanto sciocco indossando un grande fiocco blu!!"

Massimo takes the photo from her, and smiles as he looks at it.

He pins it to the wall beside the spice cabinet, beside a picture of Alberto flexing his biceps in front of the bathroom mirror when he thought no one was looking ("Which is equally embarrassing," Giulia asserts.).

-

Daniela tosses a glass-full of water at Alberto's face as soon as he steps foot into the Marcovaldo kitchen. It's the third time she's done it this summer, so no one bats an eye. Luca ducks around them to help Giulia gather up the plates and utensils so everyone can eat together outside, glad that his mother's attention has been diverted from himself. Alberto flinches as the water hits him full-on and changes his whole head, paddles blooming up where his hair was, eyes larger, purple and scaley right down to his shoulders.

Daniela sets the glass aside.

"Well?" she demands with a smile, "Let's see 'em, huh? Open up!"

Alberto obliges by opening his mouth wide, displaying all of his teeth.

Daniela hooks a finger into his cheek and tilts his head this way and that, checking every tooth from every angle possible. They're less mismatched than they were just a week ago. Almost all of his adult teeth have come in perfectly. Daniela murmurs uh-huh and looks good and other positive affirmations. She pulls him down to her level and checks his earfins and paddles. Checks the scales and fins decorating his arms, rattling off questions, "Everything coming in alright? Looks like the color's starting to go, huh? Not too many growing pains?"

Alberto is surprisingly tolerant of the way she handles him. He sputters when she tosses another glass of water at him once he starts to dry.

"You'll let Lorenzo and I know if you need anything, right?"

"Sì, Daniela," he says with a grin that is all sharp teeth.

"Okay, good," she says. She finally releases him, pats his cheek. "You look good. Oh, I'm so excited for you! Now, take this downstairs."

She hands him a large bowl of pasta and shoos him out of the kitchen.

-

Alberto high-fives Colette on the steps leading down to the beach when he starts his shift for lifeguard duty. She hands him a whistle, and points out the trouble-makers of the day (a kid that keeps trying to swallow the rocks when she thinks no one is looking, a couple of teens at the end of the peer who were jumping off too close to the boats). Luca and Giulia, donning their swimsuits, and in Giulia's case goggles, follow Alberto onto the beach.

On the whole, it's an uneventful afternoon.

The sun blazes down, and the water is warm and calm and clear. Alberto keeps a close eye on the swimmers and the smaller kids (and the girl eating rocks). Giulia spends her time diving and bringing up weirdly shaped rocks, or shells, or sunken bottles, fishing gear, and ancient algae-covered toys. Luca flits between them, but he stays with Alberto more often than Giulia, eager to spend as much time with his friend as possible, even if Alberto's attention is divided.

Luca feels a little awkward around the younger kids who are learning to swim, so he sits back in the shallow water and watches the way Alberto plays with them. He splashes them with his tail, and they shriek and giggle and cover their faces. He tosses them overhead into slightly deeper water and darts out to grab them the second they go under. He shows them how to paddle with their silly little limbs because they don't have fins or a tail to propel themselves with, and (most importantly for mammals) he shows them how to float on their backs.

He makes sure they aren't afraid of the water, but are also appropriately cautious.

And he's so good at it.

Alberto helps Massimo at the Pescheria every day, and also does this three times a week…

Luca feels like now is the time to ask a hard question.

He waits until Alberto comes to sit by him. Luca's top half has dried out - until Alberto splashes him with a flick of his tail and laughs. Luca splashes him back, but his heart isn't quite in it. Alberto rakes a hand playfully through Luca's paddles, pushing him over.

"What's eating you?" he asks.

Luca finds the rocks around him very interesting, tossing them and watching as they plop into the waves.

"Alberto…. You're not the one who's paying for me to go to school, are you?"

"What?" he laughs, "No! I just bought your train ticket! Nana Paguro paid for it - pays for it - she's a card shark! She's got a reputation around here. And a stockpile of money she didn't know what to do with."

Luca blinks at him, bewildered.

"Are you pulling my tail?"

"No! I’m not, I swear! Seriously, Luca, you thought one crappy vespa was gonna pay your tuition for the next several years?"

"But it was our crappy vespa," Luca says quietly, the shock wearing off.

Grandma did say she beat a guy at cards here. Apparently she does that regularly.

(Apparently it pays for Luca's tuition.)

"I'm gonna buy it back," Alberto says, with his usual easy confidence. He looks away to scan the beach and the water. Flashes a toothy smile at Luca. "I talked to Signora Natalini - she's the mechanic that owns the shop. She's gonna let me help out around the garage this fall, so I'm gonna learn how to work on engines and stuff. Then I can fix up our vespa. Maybe it'll be ready by the time you graduate."

Luca finds himself smiling, feeling giddy and warm all over again, all the way through, at the thought of seeing the world with Alberto.

"I can't wait," he says softly.

"Yeah," Alberto says. He looks sheepish now, scuffing his heels in the rocks. "Me either."

--

"Santa mozzarella!" Giulia exclaims, "What are you doing to your arm?!"

"What? Nothing!"

It comes out defensive.

Luca looks up from his book just in time to watch Alberto slide his arm beneath the table, out of view. And to watch Giulia launch herself bodily across the table after it. This catches Alberto and Luca both off guard. Alberto shouts as he topples out of his chair and he and Giulia crash to the floor. Luca jumps up from the balcony window where he's been sitting and reading; he lets out a little shout of his own, throwing his book down. The table and chairs scrape as Giulia and Alberto thrash on the floor.

Luca doesn't know what to do.

He dances anxiously at the edge of the fray.

"Stop! What're you doing!?"

Alberto is clearly trying not to hurt her, but clearly trying to throw her off. Giulia is giving Machiavelli a run for his money, grappling until she gets ahold of Alberto's arm and then wrenching it up away from where he is trying to keep it close to his chest.

Luca pulls in a sharp breath when he sees it.

Alberto's skin, a broad patch on the inside of his forearm, looks blistered. There are bright red welts - lines drawn by his blunt fingernails - where he's been scratching at it.

Alberto wrenches his arm away, plants his foot in Giulia's stomach and shoves her off. He crawls out from under the table on the other side, scowling, rubbing his arm. Giulia gets to her feet and darts over to stand in the doorway, in case he has any ideas about running out.

Alberto stands in the corner and glares at her.

"What?" he demands, "You've never had a rash before?"

"I have," Giulia asserts, "I thought sea monsters didn't get rashes or sunburns!"

"We don't," Luca says, bewildered.

They don't sweat, either, but that's not the point. They don't get any physical human afflictions (except for colds, apparently, which Luca learned the hard way after his first week exposed to the collective germs of the student body).

"Do you have fish lice?" Luca asks.

"No!" Alberto says angrily. But he's scratching his other arm now, and it's just as red. "I'm just - it itches. Sharks, is that okay?"

"It's not okay! Stop scratching it, Alberto," Giulia says, "You make the itching worse."

Massimo appears in the doorway, then.

None of them even heard him coming. Giulia turns to face him, relaxing her defensive stance. Alberto folds his arms to hide the welts. Luca wrings his hands nervously as Massimo looks between the three of them. None of them provide any information, though their silence and the room itself says enough. The chair is still knocked over, the table askew. Luca's book is pages-down on the floor.

"I thought I heard scuffling," Massimo says at last, "Is everything alright?"

"Sì, Papá!" Giulia says, with a charming smile.

Massimo raises an eyebrow at her, then turns to Alberto, who blatantly avoids his gaze.

"Alberto?"

"Sì."

"Mhh."

Luca is having an internal crisis remembering the last time he lied to his own parents and all the bad things that happened because of it. It takes every fiber in his body not to blurt out the truth. He has to clamp his hands down over his mouth, and doesn't look at Massimo, either, when the large man's eyes skip over to him.

"Alright," Massimo says, "If you're certain."

He backs out of the kitchen, and the three of them listen to the sound of him slowly descending the stairs. Giulia blows out a breath. She rounds on Alberto again. Luca lifts his hands from his mouth to tell her to leave him alone, but Giulia only points.

"Go to the sink," she says, "Cold water will help."

Cold water will also change them, and Luca can check to see if Alberto does actually have an infection of some kind. For a moment, it looks as if Alberto will protest. He scowls at Giulia (who scowls right back, planting her hands on her hips), then he look at Luca. He stops scowling and sighs, trudging over to the sink. His head is down, his fingertips raking over his arms right up until he turns on the faucet and sticks them under the running water.

His two middle fingers combine, webbing forming between the others. Alberto grits his teeth - actually winces - as the change sweeps up his forearms when he splashes the water higher. His fins extend. Scales bloom across his skin. In the places where it has raised into harsh red welts, a couple of scales plink off into the porcelain bowl of the sink.

One of them swoops down the drain.

Luca watches in shock.

"Alberto!"

He reaches for Alberto's arms, and Alberto yanks them away, rubbing them dry on his shirt. A few more scales flake off and fall to the floor at his feet.

"It's fine," Alberto says, his voice rasping slightly.

Or maybe that's the growl starting up.

Giulia notices it at the same time Luca does. She cocks her head at Alberto when she hears it, and then shares a glance with Luca, who shrugs helplessly, lifting his hands. Giulia looks at Alberto like he's something brand new, like she doesn't know what to make of him suddenly.

"You are growling," she says.

Alberto blinks hard at her a couple of times. He's rubbing his chest now, probably feeling the vibration under his hand. The rumbling intensifies before it stops.

"What's going on?" Giulia asks in the silence that follows, eyes narrowed, arms folded.

"Nothing," Alberto snaps.

"I think you're moulting, Alberto," Luca says.

"Moulting?" Giulia asks, making a face.

"We shed our scales during adolescence," Luca explains, looking at Alberto, who bites his lip and rubs his arms, scowling at the floor, "Alberto's already lost all his baby teeth. His vocal cords are changing - that's what the growling is. His scales should be going next."

"Santa mozzarella," Giulia sighs. She rounds on Alberto again. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"I don't know!" Alberto snaps.

There's a heat in his voice that makes Giulia and Luca both flinch. He throws his hands up, and the red welts on his arms stand out sharply.

"I didn't exactly have anyone around to tell me my teeth would start falling out when I turned fifteen!" Alberto continues. That growl kicks up again, distorting his voice. He stifles it by lashing out at the closest chair, kicking it over. Giulia isn't standing anywhere near it, but she still moves out of the way. Alberto motions toward his own chest. "I have no idea how to make this stop! My mouth looks like a saw blade, now! And everyone's just okay with it! Now I'm itching and I'm burning up all the time and my scales are falling off!"

"Alberto…" Luca's voice falters. Not because he's afraid, but because he's worried. "This is normal -"

"Well it doesn't feel normal, Luca! That's the problem!"

When he moves to leave, Luca and Giulia don't stop him. Alberto climbs the ladder to his room and slams the hatch. They hear the heavy thunk of a crate being set over it. He doesn't come out for the rest of the evening, and he skips dinner.

-

It's raining. Again.

The truck breaks down on their way back to the Pescheria.

Luca peers anxiously out the front window at the steam billowing up around the hood. Beside him, Alberto lets out a sigh. He's wearing jeans today, and long sleeves to cover up his arms. He pushes them up past his elbows as he gets out of the truck so his fins don't get snagged on the fabric, and Luca catches a glimpse of how red and irritated his skin is before the change sweeps over them.

And then he sees all the pale, naked places where Alberto's scales have flaked away.

It's been three days since the outburst.

Usually playful and boisterous, Alberto has been moody and lethargic. He asked Colette to fill in for him on lifeguard duty yesterday. And he hasn't been coming to get Luca in the mornings. But Luca's internal clock is already set by weeks of consistency, so he wakes up on his own and gets to the boat as they're hauling in the last few nets.

Alberto doesn't talk very much.

Massimo shoots him worried glances when Alberto isn't looking. (Alberto practically claws at his skin when he thinks no one is looking). All Massimo had to say on the subject when Giulia brought it up once when Alberto was out of the room was, "It can be difficult to adjust to when your body is changing. Give him some space to figure things out, Giulietta."

Luca's parents said something similar.

"Luca, honey, I bit people," Daniela said, "Oh, I was mean. And moody! I bit everyone when my teeth were coming in. They hurt, alright? And I was sooo itchy, and boy did I have a temper about it." She shook her head. "Awful. For your sake, I hope you're like your father - he hid under a rock for three months! Didn't want anyone to see him shedding."

"At least I didn't bite anyone," Lorenzo had grumbled.

That, at least, was a sentiment Giulia and Luca both agreed on. Alberto hasn't bitten anyone. (Yet, Giulia added warily.) Luca can stand him being surly and quiet for a few weeks if that's going to be the worst of it. And it's not like Luca isn't empathetic. He's dreading his own adolescent shed, but he has at least a year or two between now and then, and he's going to go into it fully informed.

Alberto didn't have that.

It snuck up on him, and now he just has to deal with it.

Luca is starting to worry that Alberto doesn't know how to deal with it...

Alberto slams the hood back down, and the whole truck shakes. It shakes some more when he storms back around and climbs in, slamming the door. He shakes off, spraying Luca with water droplets. He glances over as Luca is wiping the turquoise spots off his face and sighs again and mumbles, "Sorry, Luca."

"For what?" Luca asks.

Alberto shrugs and throws up his hands, in a gesture that Luca takes to mean everything.

Luca doesn't think Alberto has anything to be sorry for (well, his attitude maybe), but he doesn't know if Alberto wants to hear that just now. Instead, Luca asks, "What's wrong with the truck?"

"I don't know…"

Alberto rubs his face with his hand. He reaches over his shoulder to scratch at his back.

He looks flushed today.

Even with the rain, it's humid and warm. Luca wonders if he's overheating under the long sleeve.

They're not actually very far from the piazza. After sulking for a few minutes, Alberto tentatively suggests putting the truck in neutral and coasting the rest of the way. He decides against it (to Luca's relief), citing not wanting to cause any more damage to the truck or anyone's houses as the reason. A truck is a lot different than a bike or a cobbled-together Vespa. Luca thinks he just isn't feeling well, but doesn't complain.

Alberto pulls up the emergency break and the two of them get out to start walking back.

"At least you finished all the deliveries," Luca says optimistically.

"Yeah," Alberto says, a tiny laugh there.

Luca surreptitiously looks him over head to toe now that he has the chance. He hasn't seen Alberto in his full natural form since he started moulting, and even though Alberto is mostly covered, Luca can see enough. It's not just Alberto’s arms. The pale places where his scales are gone dot his feet, and the base of his paddles, and his neck, and his tail. The scales that remain look… flat.

Lifeless.

They lack that silvery, iridescent sheen they had at the start of summer.

-

Massimo has the truck towed to the mechanic. Signora Natalini says it is an inexpensive fix, so it's ready that same afternoon and Alberto goes to pick it up. Giulia and Luca tag along with him because they have nothing better to do, because the mechanic isn't very far, and because Alberto is in a much more amicable mood by then.

The sun peeks out around heavy grey clouds, glinting brightly off the deep puddles the rainstorm left behind. Alberto's and Luca's bare feet are webbed from the short walk. Giulia is showing Alberto a finger trap as they come up the lane, beneath an archway, past the fountain, both of them effectively distracted. Luca is the one who spots the bright red Vespa parked ahead of them and falters.

He catches Alberto by the belt loop, but not in time.

The doors of the mechanic are propped open, and Ercole is just stepping out when he sees them.

"Ah, here's Spewlia and the two vagrants," he says, feigning fondness until he props his elbow on the handlebar of his Vespa. He narrows his eyes, drops his voice. "Come to steal something else from right under my nose?"

Giulia's face sours.

But Alberto's entire posture changes.

That slight smile that Giulia has worked so hard to put on his face vanishes. His whole body is tense - so much so that Giulia, whose finger is still trapped with his in the paper tube, shoots him a worried look and quickly tugs herself free.

She faces Ercole with her hands balled.

"They didn't steal anything," she says, "They won the race fair and square, Ercole!"

Ercole scoffs.

"My argument stands," he says, tossing a dismissive hand at Luca and Alberto, "They are not people. So they should not have won!"

Giulia takes more offense to that than Luca does (he couldn't care less about Ercole's opinions). She sucks in a retaliatory breath, but before she can go off, Alberto puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her and rolls his eyes, saying, "Ouch."

Luca expected him to be more hostile - he's still tense, still glaring, still hasn't moved an inch from the place where he stopped, but he sounds more bored than anything else. "That hurts so much," he goes on, wringing sarcasm out of every syllable, "But not as bad as losing does, I guess. Because you're still the only one who cares about the stupid race."

This belligerent indifference apparently works. Ercole's face is contorted with rage. His beady eyes dart back and forth between the three of them, as if searching out a weakness he can't find. He settles for trying to glare them to death.

Alberto turns then, pushing Giulia and Luca both ahead of him.

"Come on," he says, "We'll come back later."

Giulia can't help herself. She looks over her shoulder and lets out a haughty, "Ha!"

Ercole finds something to say, then.

"Don't be so snooty, Giulia," he sneers, "Dormi con i pesci ogni notte."

Luca's Italian isn't great.

He can read it very well now! And he knows enough common phrases and words to get what he needs to across when he has to say something. But hearing it and understanding it are two separate things. The syllables roll off of each other. The words tumble together, rapid and rhythmic and too quick to follow (especially when it's Giulia, especially when she's got herself all worked up about something).

Luca recognizes enough to parse the meaning, though why it's insulting slips past him.

Giulia's Italian is, naturally, perfect. And she is familiar enough with Ercole to understand the kind of blows he deals. She gasps, mostly because he has the audacity to say something so crude.

Alberto's Italian has gotten much better.

He stops when he hears what Ercole says. Not quick or sudden like it was a blow that struck him. Just lets his hands drop from their shoulders. Just stops walking. Luca is looking up at his face when it happens, nervous all of a sudden without really knowing why. He wouldn't call Alberto's expression blank - that implies there's nothing there.

There's plenty there.  

A tension in his mouth.

A slant to his eyebrows.

A flare, something burning, in his wide green eyes.

Luca doesn't have a name for that. He doesn't know what to say but something is trying to come out of his mouth without forming into anything solid, his hand reaching out and skimming Alberto's arm when Alberto swings his foot around, letting his body follow. Giulia makes a grab for him too, and Alberto shrugs her off. He marches back up the lane to where Ercole is leaning on his Vespa.

Ercole's face falls when Alberto turns.

He looks panicked, clutching onto his Vespa, when Alberto breaks into a full sprint for him.

Luca doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late. Alberto has thrown himself at Ercole and borne the larger boy to the ground, fists swinging, before Luca can even blink. The beautiful Vespa gets turned over onto its side. Ercole shrieks and yelps and tries to curl his narrow limbs inward, but he just makes himself a more solid target for Alberto's fury.

Giulia shouts, "No!" and darts forward and tries to haul Alberto off of him.

Alberto doesn't let her.

He keeps Ercole pinned with his knees, keeps bringing his fists down one after the other, keeps grappling, keeps biting, keeps kicking, blind and deaf to everything else in the world as he pummels the hell out of Ercole, who finally displays some sense of self-preservation and starts swinging back. He lands a solid punch, right in the nose.

There's a sickening crunch.

Alberto's head snaps back, but he doesn't act like he feels it at all.

If anything, he hits Ercole even harder.

Luca doesn't remember rushing forward, but he's beside Giulia, grabbing the back of Alberto's shirt and trying to help her wrestle him away. His pulse is rioting in his ears. His breath is stuck in his throat. Alberto isn't that much older than they are, but he's so much bigger, so much stronger.

Two things happen:

Alberto's elbow comes up and hits Luca in the temple.

And Luca drops to the ground, stunned.

He's only out of it for a second. Luca's head is throbbing when he sits up. Everything spins before it settles. Signora Natalina is kneeling over Ercole, who rolls on the ground beside his Vespa, weakly kicking his feet and whimpering, clutching his right arm to his chest. Giulia has Alberto by the arm, holding him tightly with both hands even though he makes no move to get away from her now. A small crowd has gathered at the edge of the piazza, staring at the commotion just up the lane.

Alberto is panting hard, his whole body moving with the inward push and pull of his breath.

His nose is pouring blood. His left eye is bruised. He stands there, staring at Ercole, for several long seconds. Then he wrenches his arm right out of Giulia's grasp and runs. Signora Natalini shouts at him. Luca panics and scrambles up, running after him. Giulia follows, calling apologies over her shoulder.

They break through the crowd.

Alberto stops running, then, but he keeps charging forward across the piazza, heading straight to the Marcovaldo's courtyard. Maybe he just can't run anymore. He's shaking, his legs nearly buckling. His hands curling and uncurling; his knuckles are busted, bloody and bruised from where he smashed them against Ercole like the tide breaking itself against the rocks. Luca flanks him on one side and Giulia takes the other.

They share a horrified look behind his back.

Giulia is breathless, jogging to keep up with him.

"Santo pecorino," she gasps, "Alberto! What's the matter with you!?"

"Nothing."

It comes out weird. Distorted.

He's growling again.

"Alberto," Luca persists, "Your face is bleeding!"

Alberto looks down as if he didn't realize, as if he can't taste the blood as it pools in his mouth. He plucks at his shirt, scowling at the sticky red mess soaking into the fabric. His skin is changing beneath it. He can't see the way it streams over his face and drips from his chin, the way it paints his throat. He staggers as he shoves open the courtyard door. He doesn't stop walking.

"It's fine."

His jaw has shifted. His teeth are sharp.

"This is the opposite of fine!" Giulia shouts, "You really hurt him!"

"He shouldn't have said that to you!" Alberto snarls, rounding on her.

Giulia doesn't flinch, just stands her ground. "I don't care about what idiotic things Ercole has to say! I care about you, stupido! That can't be the only time he's provoked you - you're not a cocky brat anymore - tell me the rest!"

"No."

He staggers again.

"Alberto -"

Luca tries to catch him by the arm; Alberto swings it out of the way.

He curls his hand into a fist.

"Luca! Leave me alone!"

Alberto looks at him then - bares his teeth for one brief moment - and then the anger drains from his face. It's jarring, seeing that happen a second time in what feels like as many minutes. Worse even, with the way Alberto's blood covers his face and the front of his shirt. It makes Luca's pulse scatter, his head throb. But Alberto's expression is quickly replaced with shock, not that carefully blank facade.

Alberto's eyes dart to Luca's forehead.

His hands dart out next.

He grabs Luca's face in both hands and hauls him closer, angling Luca's head. He isn't gentle, but it doesn't hurt. Luca clamps his own hands around Alberto's wrists to keep him there. Over Alberto's shoulder, he sees Giulia jump forward as if to intervene, but she stops.

"Did he hit you?" Alberto asks, that growl punching the back of his throat.

His eyes meet Luca's for a second - they're human, green and round, but there's a hint of yellow there that makes Luca swallow hard - before going back to the welt, the bruise that's forming. He swipes his thumb over it, surprisingly light.

Luca barely even feels it.

"You did, Alberto," he says, surprised by how steady and quiet his voice is, "You elbowed me when we were trying to pull you off of Ercole."

Alberto's mouth twists. His brow pinches. That small truth seems to have hurt him more than anything Ercole said or did, and Luca immediately feels guilty. He doesn't take it back. He holds onto Alberto's wrists. He feels Alberto's trembling pulse against his fingertips. He wants to wipe the blood off of Alberto's face, but he doesn't want to let go.

Poor Giulia.

She picked the hardest friends to love.

-

Why is it always when he is cooking dinner that something happens to Alberto?

At least this time he is with Giulia and Luca, even if they are both trying to support him as they drag him in through the kitchen door. Last time, they didn't have very much to say. This time they are both tripping over one another to explain what happened, their voices a merging cacophony that is impossible to understand; meanwhile, Alberto's head nods from one shoulder to the other as they jostle him between them.

His blood drips on the floor.

"Per carità," Massimo says gently but firmly, "Put him down, Giulietta, Luca."

They seem to remember Alberto with a jolt.

Massimo prepares a bowl of warm water as they ease him down onto the edge of the bed, tumbling out apologies now, petting his hair, gingerly touching his face. Alberto's eyes are glassy and unfocused. He must have passed out. He's lost quite a bit of blood from what appears to be a broken nose. He manages to keep himself upright, though he sways precariously, only because Luca has both arms around him.

Giulia stands beside them, wringing her hands. She darts aside when Massimo brings the bowl of water.

"Giulietta, go fetch him a clean shirt."

"Sì, Papá."

She scampers up the ladder.

Luca helps Alberto out of the shirt he's currently wearing, lifting it over his head while Alberto, sluggish and uncoordinated, pulls his arms free. Giulia comes clattering down from the attic as Luca wrings a cloth out in the warm water and carefully mops the blood from Alberto's face. Massimo keeps his hand on Alberto's back to steady him.

Alberto flinches back when the damp cloth touches his face. The change from one form to another must be painful this time as his facial bones shift, unsure of where to go in their current state.

There's a commotion on the stairs, then.

And loud voices carrying in from the piazza.

A stocky fisherman appears in the kitchen doorway.

"Massimo," he says, motioning for Massimo to come with him, "It's Signora Visconti." His gaze darts to Alberto. He's coming back around a bit, still blinking hard and trying to focus. His face and chest are half-changed, but he is no longer pouring blood. "She's very upset about her son…"

Massimo hums as he rises to his full height.

"She and I both," he says, but he puts up a hand to forestall the man, and turns to Luca and Giulia, "Tell me what happened."

"Ercole deserved what he got," Giulia bursts out heatedly, "He -!"

Massimo puts up his hand again. Giulia claps her mouth shut and frowns. Massimo turns to Luca and looks at him sternly, waiting for an explanation. Luca swallows hard, his gaze darting between the other two, perhaps looking for guidance.

"Ercole… said something rude about Giulia, Signor Marcovaldo," he says haltingly.

"I won't repeat it!" Giulia asserts.

Massimo turns away.

He returns with a pencil and a scrap of paper and hands it wordlessly to Giulia.

Giulia frowns, her hand tightening into a fist around the pencil. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she bends over the corner of the table and writes it down. She looks away as she hands the paper to Massimo, and folds her arms.

His heavy brow draws down further as he reads it.

He looks at Giulia.

"Ti ha detto questo?"

"Sì."

"And Alberto?"

"Started hitting him, Signor," Luca says, looking tentatively at Alberto, who has his face in his hands now, elbows propped on his knees. Luca gently rubs a hand through his tight curls, cupping the back of his skull. He lifts his gaze to Massimo again. "And… wouldn't stop. We tried to pull him off, but…"

Massimo nods.

That's all he needs to hear.

"Stay in the house," he says firmly.

He leaves with the other fisherman, closing the kitchen doors behind himself.

-

Giulia waits until the stairs have stopped creaking under the departure of her father and the other fisherman and then makes a run for the window. It's already open, the shutters cast aside after the morning deluge. The tomato plant on the balcony makes for a great cover as Giulia pokes her head out the window to see what's going on below. (Machiavelli gives her a disapproving look, but he is already sitting out here eavesdropping so he can't really judge.)

A relatively large crowd has gathered in the piazza, in front of the bar two buildings down from the Pescheria. Adults. All of the kids have been called home for one reason or another. A few other adults loiter at the edges of the piazza.

Signora Visconti is an older woman, her black hair streaked with grey on both sides.

It is easy to see who Ercole resembles.

She stands in the middle of the crowd, speaking passionately, " - don't know why we have let it go on for so long! It was only a matter of time before he attacked one of our children!"

One of the other women stands with her hands on her hips, looking uncertain. Giulia recognizes her as the woman whose little boy got swept out of the bay. She's wearing the same orange dress with flowers on the hem, and she puts up her hand.

"No disrespect, Signora," she says, "But that doesn't sound like Alberto."

Several of the aunties nod their heads in agreement, frowning and murmuring to one another. Others, the parents of younger children mostly, are nodding as well. Even the fishermen don't support Signora Visconti's claim that having a sea monster in their midst is inherently a danger - there haven't been any water-related accidents since Alberto moved into town and Massimo made his adoption official, and everyone in Portorosso benefits from a better understanding of the fishing grounds. It is not just the Marcovaldos who are a little more well off thanks to Alberto.

The door to the Pescheria opens then, and Massimo steps out ahead of the fellow who came to fetch him.

The crowd shifts to let him through.

"Signora," he says, nodding to Visconti, "Our sons have had a disagreement, it seems."

She scoffs.

"A disagreement! Cielo salvami! That horrifying creature of yours mauled my poor Ercole," Signora Visconti asserts, jabbing a finger in Massimo's direction, "His arm is broken!"

"And Alberto's nose is broken," Massimo says, "So it sounds as if they are even, Signora."

"His poor face is unrecognizable!"

"Il tempo lo riparerà, I'm sure. It is my understanding that they came to blows over an insult Ercole gave to my Giulietta. This is not the first time - "

"You cannot justify the actions of a wild beast, Marcovaldo!" Signora Visconti snarls, "They are not smart enough to reason!"

A murmur of shock rises up.

Giulia looks over her shoulder at Luca, and doesn't know whether to be hurt or furious. Alberto still has his head in his hands. Luca has a hand on Alberto’s back, rubbing between his shoulder blades now, scratching very lightly with just the tips of his fingers. Luca's face is set in a hard frown as he looks at a point straight ahead, his other hand curling into a fist on his knee.

Every word the adults say can be heard plainly in the kitchen.

"Signora Visconti," Massimo says, with a hardness to his voice that adds an incredible, deliberate weight to his words, "Do you know how early I have to get up in the mornings now because your son thinks it is funny to jab a harpoon into my front door, and I do not want Alberto to see it? Do you know how many times my son has come home with marks on his arms and legs from the nets your son throws over him as a joke? Or how many times he has bruises he does not want to explain to me?

"Alberto is a good boy, Signora," Massimo says, "But he has his limit, as do we all."

"He is not a boy at all," Signora Visconti says angrily, her face reddening, "He is a monster!"

"No, Signora. From where I am standing, your son is the monster."

He says it with that same hardness.

Signora Visconti looks scandalized by the accusation. She reels back, clutching her liters pearls. She looks to the townsfolk for support - but she is met with hard frowns and murmurs of agreement with what Massimo says, heads nodding, arms folding. Parents of children that Ercole has made a hobby of bullying over the years. Close friends of the elderly sea monsters, Signoras Aragosta, who have lived among them for years. Seeing that the masses are not on her side in this matter, Signora Visconti folds.

She grandly swings her shawl around her neck as she turns away.

The crowd parts to let her through, and doesn't even wait until she is gone to begin talking.

Giulia breathes out a small sigh of relief.

A shaky voice behind her whispers, "I'm doing it again…."

Giulia whips around. Looks at Luca, who's looking at Alberto. He's breathing hard again, trying to pull in deep breaths that shatter in his throat. His fingers are knotted in his hair now. Giulia and Luca exchange a quick, anxious glance.

"Doing what, Berto?" Luca asks softly.

"Ruining everything…."

Giulia and Luca both gasp.

"Silenzio, Bruno!!"

They shout it in tandem.

"Get that out of your head, amore," Giulia demands, stomping her foot. She comes to the bed and falls down beside him, wrapping both arms around his shoulders so he is very firmly sandwiched between herself and Luca, like they can keep him together with pure force alone if he breaks. He's trembling so hard, she's worried he might. "No one thinks that!"

"Alberto," Luca says, his voice quiet but solid, "You're not ruining anything. Everyone here loves you."

Alberto is shaking his head, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms and wincing.

He's gasping,

"I-I shouldn't have hit Ercole - I -"

"He was being a jerk!"

"- I don't know what's wrong with me -"

"Nothing is wrong with you!"

"- everything's just - so confusing right now -"

"It's okay if you're confused," Luca says, desperate to reassure him, "Being human is so confusing! I still get confused all the time, Alberto!"

"It's not being human that's confusing," Alberto snaps, but it warbles out instead. His voice breaks. "It's being me. I don't know anything about being a sea monster. I don't know anything about being human. I'm just bad at everything."

"No you're not," Giulia says gently.

She sits back from him, only to brush his hair back from his face where he has pulled the curls down. His forehead is frighteningly hot under her palm, and it is the same under the backs of her fingers when she flips her hand to feel his cheek. There are lines of purple scales and rough skin from the tears streaming down his flushed face.

Alberto's nose and his left eye are both swollen from where Ercole punched him. A dark blue-black with red spotting the edges spreads over the bridge of his nose and his cheekbone. 

"No one is good at everything, Alberto," Luca says, watching Giulia worriedly touch his face, "It's just that… there's a lot of stuff going on right now, and it's confusing. That's okay! We'll figure it out together. Okay?"

"Alberto," Giulia says, "Do you feel alright?"

"No," he says thickly.

He's rubbing at his arms, maybe without realizing it, maybe trying not to scratch. Alberto hasn't put on the other shirt Giulia brought him, so all of the bare skin he was trying to hide beneath the long-sleeve is on display for the first time in a while. There are red, irritated places all over his back and chest; broad welts on his shoulders and around his ribs, and any place else he can easily reach.

Giulia grabs his restless hands to still them.

Luca gets to his feet. He puts a hand in Alberto's hair, leans in to catch his eye. It's hard for Alberto to even focus on his face.

"I'll be right back, Alberto," Luca says, giving him a little shake, "Right back."

"Where are you going?" Giulia demands, even as Luca flees from the room.

"To get my dad!"

-

Lorenzo is beyond flustered as Luca harries him through the door into the Marcovaldo's kitchen, hands pushing against his father's shoulders, feet digging into the floor, trying to get him to go as fast as he can. The man is still shaking one of his legs into his customary (stolen) pair of jeans and getting them buttoned up properly.

"Luca, the least you could do is explain, son!"

"There's no time!" Luca insists, "Look at Alberto!"

It's hard not to.

Even lying prone on the bed, Alberto's face is the picture of misery, a motley of colorful bruises and too-warm skin. He's flushed all the way down to his chest. His eyes are closed, his brow pinched, his breathing short and harsh. Occasionally, he groans and turns his head, and his hands move with no clear direction.

Lorenzo winces, tucking in his shirt.

"Jumping jellyfish! What happened!?"

"He got into a fight with Ercole," Giulia says.

She's sitting on the bed beside Alberto, holding a bag of ice wrapped in a cloth against his face to bring down the swelling without changing him, but she sets it aside and scoots off to make room for Lorenzo. He picks up Alberto's limp arm and turns it over, looking at the raw places dotting his skin.

Massimo stands over them, looking worried.

"He has a fever," Massimo says needlessly, "And this rash has gotten much worse. Do you know what is wrong, Lorenzo?"

"Me?! Well - I -"

"He's moulting," Luca says urgently.

"Moulting?" Lorenzo repeats, incredulous. He turns over Alberto's arm again, as if it will have answers. "Of course he is, he's lost all his - but - wh- why didn't he go to the water?"

"I don't think he knows, Dad."

"Who doesn't know? Everyone knows! Your scales can't come off if they're not there."

"Alberto wasn't raised around others like us," Luca reminds him, "And he was alone… for who knows how long. No one told him."

"I -"

Lorenzo doesn't know what to do with this information right away. He puts a hand on his head and thinks for a minute.

"Okay," he says, drawing himself up, "Alright. Luca, go fill up the bathtub. Warm water! Not too hot," he adds as Luca rushes from the room with a yes, sir! Lorenzo turns to Giulia next. "Giulia, go down to the beach and gather up as many rocks as you can carry, alright? Luca - actually, you go help her, son, I'll do the bath. Rocks and sand! Lots of sand!"

"Wouldn't it be easier to take him down to the bay?" Massimo asks as the children hasten to fulfill their task.

He follows Lorenzo to the kitchen doorway, but remains where he can see Alberto. The bathroom is a cramped rectangular room wedged between the kitchen and Giulia’s room. Lorenzo squeezes in and starts running water into the porcelain tub. He shakes his head, checking the temperature, adjusting it, looking for the stopper.

"No no, he should be somewhere he's comfortable. Uh. It should really be saltwater, though, I think. To help clean out any infection."

"Infection?" Massimo says worriedly.

"I-I'm just assuming he's got an infection," Lorenzo says quickly, "Scale rot. If he hasn't been rubbing off his old scales, the new ones can't come in and the old ones, well - the fever. But I don't know how bad it is. It may not be very bad at all! Let's - let's just get him into the tub first and see if that helps. That's the thing to focus on right now."

He pushes the shower curtain out of the way, moves a step stool from in front of the sink.

Alberto rouses up when they try to move him.

He shuffles into the bathroom on his own two feet, and Lorenzo helps him get out of his remaining clothes and into the tub. Alberto slips sideways into the water, the change rippling over him like a wave, and he doesn't come up again. He just stays there curled at the bottom of the bathtub with his tail wrapped around himself. Massimo looms over him, watching intently for the rise and fall of Alberto's back.

Giulia and Luca shout to announce themselves coming up the stairs with three heavy tin buckets between them, laden with small rocks and the cleanest sand Luca could find. There's a lot of shuffling as they all cram into the small space. Massimo backs into the kitchen to let them through with the buckets, and Lorenzo stands in the bathroom doorway.

"What now, Signor Paguro?" Giulia asks.

She's out of breath, wiping sweat from her brow. Luca peeks over the edge of the tub, puts his hand in the water to check on Alberto.

"Luca, it'll be easier if you get in there with him," Lorenzo says, and Luca climbs in with no hesitation, "You'll have to help him scrub. Giulia, go ahead and add the sand."

Giulia lifts the bucket with an effort and sloshes the sand over into the tub. It makes the water cloudy before it settles. Luca helps Alberto sit upright with his face out of the water so the sand doesn't get in his eyes or irritate his sinuses - his snout is swollen and his whole face is tender. Luca barely touches it, and Alberto moans and flinches away, his tail arching up to snap against Luca's shoulder.

"Sorry, Alberto," Luca murmurs.

"It's okay…"

That vibration is still stuck in his throat.

It sounds different than it did when he was human.

Everything that's happened today has taken so much out of him; Alberto's head keeps nodding forward and his eyes keep drifting closed. When they're open, they're a dark loamy green with narrow pupils. Some of his scales have already flaked off.

They flit through the water, pale and lackluster.

Giulia adds some rocks next, plunking them gently into the water. Luca props Alberto against the side of the tub, picks up a handful of sand, and starts scrubbing one of Alberto's arms while Lorenzo gives him direction from the doorway, "Exfoliate! Not up and down, don't go against the grain - in small, close circles. Remember, you're not trying to force the scales to come off, you're just loosening them up, so be gentle! If he's pulling away like that it hurts, son, move to a different spot for now."

"This is going to take forever," Giulia says after a few minutes of watching, "Can I help?"

"If he'll let you," Lorenzo says.

"Alberto?" Giulia asks, tentatively leaning over the tub and putting her hand in the water.

Alberto answers by lifting his tail out, curling the end of it around Giulia's shoulder. She kicks off her sandals and climbs in behind him.

-

The sun sets, and the windows darken.

They have to change the water three times before it stays clear.

The scrubbing loosens Alberto's scales and opens up all the irritated places where they've been stuck for too long, so the water turns a murky reddish-brown after the first few minutes. It's a huge headache draining a bathtub full of sand and making sure the sand (and discarded scales) don't clog up the drain. They manage it with the buckets and a spare bedsheet. And lots of patience. The last time they're filling the tub with warm, clean water, Alberto actually sits up and takes in his surroundings for the first time in hours.

He looks at Giulia and Luca, sitting in the tub with him, soaking wet, clothes and all.

He looks down at his body as the water swirls around, stirring up the sand and rocks - at all the places where his scales are gone and his skin is pale and painfully tender.

He curls his arms around his knees, his tail around his legs.

Giulia stands up slowly, cranking the facet off once the water is almost brimming over. Luca shifts out of the way, as well, because he takes up so much more space with his tail, picking his feet up as he sits on the edge of the tub.

"Alberto? Do you want us to get out?" he asks.

Alberto pulls in a shaky breath.

He rubs his eye and winces, and touches his snout and winces. Then he just starts sobbing. Water rushes over the side of the tub as Guilia and Luca both sit down on either side of him, their hands darting out, arms wrapping around him, saying anything they can think of to comfort him.

"Jeez," Alberto says, when he's all cried out. There's a tiny laugh in his voice now that makes Luca and Giulia smile. "Sorry for being lame."

Giulia throws a hand in the air, rolling her eyes.

"Santa mozzarella," she exclaims, "It's okay!"

"We'll start in here all night with you, Alberto," Luca says firmly.

"Well, aspetta," Giulia laughs.

She holds up her hands for them to see.

They both cringe at how pruny her fingers are from being in the water.

"Yeah, I thought so," she laughs again, and stands, "I will stay in the bathroom with you, though. Just as soon as I dry off and change clothes."

Giulia climbs out of the tub and water streams to the tile floor. She shucks her sopping wet clothes and grabs a towel off the rack and runs to her room. Alberto waits for her bedroom door to slam before he asks Luca, "Uh… can't I just get out?"

Luca shakes his head, opens his mouth -

"No!" Lorenzo calls from just down the hall. He sticks his head out of the kitchen door and glares in at them. "You stay in that bathtub, young man!"

Alberto looks incredulously at Luca, who spreads his hands and tries not to laugh.

"For how long?" Alberto calls back.

"Until all the old scales have come off," Lorenzo says, "And the new ones grow in! So maybe - I dunno, but maybe a week, at least!"

"A week?!"

"It's that," Luca says, "Or you come stay at our house for a while.” Alberto makes the exact face Luca was expecting him to - that’s not really an option. He doesn’t mind visiting the Paguro’s. But it doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t feel safe. “You just can't dry out, Alberto. It's not good for you… You’ll make yourself sick again.”

"Oh," Alberto says quietly. He sloshes the water with his webbed hand. "I…" He swallows hard. Clears his throat. "I didn't know…."

"I know," Luca says, just as quiet, “It’s okay.”

-

They eat a late supper.

The pasta is cold, but it's still good.

Luca gets out of the tub to sit on the floor while Giulia takes the stool. Alberto must be starving, but he only pushes his pasta around with his fork before setting the plate on the rim of the bathroom sink and curling up in the bottom of the tub again.

Luca and Giulia hear the rocks clacking against the porcelain.

"Do you want something else?" Giulia asks.

"He needs fish!" Lorenzo calls from the kitchen.

With a jolt, Luca stands, plate in one hand, fork in the other.

He can't believe he didn't think of it before.

"Of course!" he says, "Alberto is a predator fish! That's why he's been so full of energy, but also so tired! He needs to hunt! He isn't getting the right exercise or the right nutrients!" He starts to leave the bathroom, then remembers his own meal and hesitates. He ends up grabbing the last handful and shoving it into his mouth as he runs out, saying, muffled, "I'll hunt for you, Alberto! Grazie, Signor Marcovaldo, for the meal! I'll be right back, Dad!"

"Now - Luca, hang on, son, you don't know the first thing about hunting - "

Luca charges down the stairs, anyway.

Giulia leans forward on her stool to watch him go, then raises an eyebrow at Alberto. He's peeking over the edge of the bath tub, green eyes wide, looking embarrassed that he has needs and that his friends know what they are. Giulia doesn't bother hiding her smile. She reaches over to ruff her hand through his paddles.

"Some predator," she says.

Alberto bears his sharp teeth at her, but not in a way that is genuinely threatening.

-

"Luca! Where are you going?"

Luca pulls up short right at the edge of the breakwall, arms windmilling for balance. A hand catches the collar of his shirt and hauls him backward. It's his mom. Daniela needlessly smooths down the front of his shirt. Luca brushes her hands away.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

"Uh-uh, I asked you first," she says, frowning, hands on her hips.

Even on a human face, that look makes Luca quail a bit.

"I - hunting," he says, realizing how crazy it sounds when Daniela cocks her head, eyes narrowed, "For Alberto! Dad said he needs to eat fish, and -"

"Oh! Oh, honey, don't worry about that."

Daniela bats a hand. And with the other, produces a woven seaweed bag. It's dripping still, soaking her blue dress. And it's writhing slightly. She puts a hand behind Luca's shoulders and shoos him back toward the courtyard. Luca pokes the bag with his finger.

"That's not… Guisepe, is it?"

"Of course not! Goatfish are way too stringy," Daniela says, "He needs something with a little more substance, y'know? It's easier for me to hunt at night, so I caught him something meatier."

"You… hunt?" Luca asks.

"Well, not like I used to," Daniela laughs, "But when you came to get your father earlier, I figured Alberto might be having some sort of trouble. He's hungry, right?"

"He hasn't been hunting."

"Really? Since when?"

"I don't know. I think since he started living in Portorosso all the time… I don't think he knew it would… help," Luca says. He loses steam the more concerned Daniela looks, wringing his hands together. He feels a little angry with his parents. But he doesn't know how to let it out without… letting it out. He stops walking, and Daniela stops beside him. "No one… no one explained anything to him. No one told him what to expect when he was… going through all of this! He didn't have anyone to tell him how to just take care of himself, Mom."

They stand in the courtyard for a moment, Daniela lost in thought, the fish wriggling for it's freedom, Luca watching it anxiously.

"Here," Daniela says. She hands him the bag. "Take this to Alberto. Where is he?"

"The bathtub."

Daniela looks up at the house, at the windows, and sighs softly, "Alright. Go on up. Send your dad and Massimo down, alright?"

"Yes, Mom."

-

It's late, and the house is quiet.

Only a small lantern in the kitchen is lit, and it doesn't cast more than a pale orange beam out into the hall; it makes the shadows long and dark. Alberto is asleep in the bottom of the tub, breathing nice and even, when Luca climbs out and shakes himself dry. He tiptoes into Giulia's room. She's sitting at the head of her bed, leaning toward the window that's cracked open, hugging her pillow. She looks up when Luca comes to sit beside her, lifting her finger to her mouth.

She points to the window.

She doesn't have to.

Daniela's voice carries, even when she's trying to be quiet.

"Well, of course we didn't think to sit him down and explain it to him!" she's saying, "We didn't know he didn't know! He isn't our -"

Daniela catches herself and stops.

Giulia rests her chin on her pillow and sighs softly. Luca pulls his knees up to his chest and holds onto his feet, rubbing his toes.

"Oh!" Daniela struggles not to shout. "I'm gonna tear that Scorfano to pieces if he ever shows his face around here again! Lorenzo," she says desperately, "We have to apologize to Alberto. We should never have assumed that he knew! I just couldn't imagine not knowing! He's just a kid. He must feel so confused! No wonder he's been lashing out."

"I don't understand," Lorenzo says. Luca can picture him shaking his head, splaying his hands. "He had every opportunity to ask. We gave him every opportunity!"

"Of course he didn't ask," Daniela says, "I've never seen such an inquisitive kid that refuses to ask questions!"

Massimo humbly interjects, "Sometimes when we are used to doing everything on our own, it can be difficult to ask for help."

Daniela sighs.

"I suppose you're right," she says softly.

"I don't know how we can make it easier," Lorenzo admits.

"It is not us, amico," Massimo says, his voice laced with steady reassurance, "And it is not Alberto. Guarirà. Just give him time."

Giulia smiles, then.

Luca does too. He nudges her with his elbow, whispers good night, and tiptoes back to the bathroom. He slips into the bathtub. The water is still warm, and Alberto shifts aside in his sleep to make room when Luca burrows in beside him, his legs cast over Alberto's hip, twining their tails together. Alberto's arm settles around Luca's shoulders. His face is relaxed and an air bubble clings to the corner of his slightly-open mouth.

The sound of his easy breathing is the only sound Luca can hear under the weight of the water, and it calms his aching, heavy heart.

-

"You are going to pay for Ercole's cast," Massimo says, "With your own money."

"Sì," Alberto says.

"And you are going to pay for the repairs for the damage to his Vespa."

"Sì."

The only outward sign of irritation that Alberto shows about this agreement is the way the end of his tail snaps against the side of the tub, sloshing the water. It's not enough to lose any over the lip of the tub; just enough to disturb the surface.

Giulia listens with mounting indignation.

"And what does Ercole have to do?" she demands, "He broke Alberto's nose!"

"And he paid for it," Massimo says, looking at her sternly.

Giulia quites, but is hardly mollified.

Massimo continues, "Alberto knows it is wrong to strike people when he is angry." He gives Alberto a look, and Alberto sticks his face further into the water. "This is how he makes up for his inappropriate actions. Ercole must be responsible for himself, and he will do that by learning that it is better to be kind to others than to be cruel."

"And if he doesn't?" Giulia demands.

To her surprise, Massimo chuckles.

"Then he will have many more opportunities to learn when someone else minces his face."

Giulia sputters out a laugh before she stifles it behind her hand. She looks at Alberto and sees that he has turned his face away and ducked completely under water, grinning behind his fist. Massimo smooths a hand through Alberto's paddles when he lifts his head, tells him to give a shout if he needs anything, and shoulders his way out the narrow door.

Giulia pulls the stool up beside the bathtub and sits on it, grinning at Alberto.

"Bravo, amore," she says.

Alberto splashes her with his tail.

-

The summer is racing to an end before Giulia can fully process it.

Alberto spends nine entire days in the bathtub (and he makes it everyone's problem), rolling around on the rocks, scrubbing himself down three times a day with sand, draining and refilling the water. His old scales (and sand, and rocks, and water) cover the bathroom floor. His new scales, when they come in, are a vivid, iridescent purple that changes in the shifting light. Blue and silver, and something in between. Practically overnight, he goes from looking like something that hasn't ever seen sunlight - pale and awkward and, frankly, scraggly - to looking - well -

"Bellissimo," Luca says, clearly gobsmacked.

Giulia gives him a bemused look, trying not to laugh.

Alberto is absolutely preening. Flexing. Carrying around his shirt instead of wearing it. He shrugs the compliment off, "Yeah, I guess." But it sticks to the corners of his mouth as a giddy smile that he tries and fails to fight off.

First day out of the bath, and he is already insufferably Alberto again.

Giulia rolls her eyes.

She wouldn’t have him any other way.

-

"I think I've just got two left feet," Alberto jokes.

"Nobody has two left feet, Alberto," Luca says seriously.

The night before their train leaves for Genova is crystal clear, the sky overhead cloudless, moonless, and brimming over with bright constellations. Giulia cut off the outside lights, so it's just the three of them alone in the courtyard, under the starlight. Music warbles from the red record player, a favorite album of Giulia's: soft but ecstatic jazz.

Alberto watches Giulia's and Luca's feet as they go through the motions of the dance again. Giulia knows its not the semidarkness throwing him off - even human, Alberto's eyes have a slightly yellow cast to them in the dark now.

He's just overthinking it, still feeling awkward in his new skin.

He flubs the moves again, and swears under his breath.

Luca laughs, and then stops, covering his mouth. It takes him a minute to compose himself and then he says, "Just - " He chokes back a laugh, and, with an effort, straightens out his face, motioning with his hands. "Just take a step without thinking about it."

Alberto's head whips around to scowl at him.

"Ha ha, Luca!" he says dryly, "Hilarious!"

"Guarda qui," Giulia says with a laugh. She stands beside Alberto and points to her own feet. She takes his hand. "Move the right foot left. Then kick the left and turn."

"And don't fall this time, Berto," Luca says.

"You be quiet!"

He manages it after a few more tries.

See? Giulia wants to shake him, wants to shout, You're not bad at everything.

-

The train whistle blows.

Luca hugs his parents and his grandma; he promises to write every day, to call once a week, to be extra, extra careful while he is in Genova. Giulia reassures her father that she has everything she needs to make the trip safely and comfortably.

Alberto hangs back while they say their goodbyes, hands in his back pockets, scuffing the soles of his bare feet against the pavement. His throat is tight, but he's trying to smile through the way his chest constricts and feels hollow at the same time. It's… hard. It's harder than it was last time. Last time it was a last-minute decision. Sell the Vespa. Send Luca to school. Last time it was so easy to make that choice.

It was so easy to let go.

Even if he was scared.

This time is different; planned, on purpose.

Why does it hurt so bad?

Giulia's hand scuffs the back of his head, and Alberto lets out a watery laugh. She claps his face between her hands and pulls him down to kiss him on the cheek.

"Take care of yourself, amore," she says, and pokes him firmly on the nose, "Don't get into any trouble without me."

"No promises," he says, hooking his thumbs into her hat and yanking it down, "On the second thing - not the first thing."

Giulia laughs as she rights her hat.

She kicks his shin, and hops up onto the train.

Luca's hand closes around his wrist, thumb pressing into his heavy pulse, but Alberto doesn't look at him right away. He's trying to blink the heat from his eyes. Trying to swallow the knot in his throat. Trying to steady his breathing.

Something tugs at his back pocket.

That gets his attention.

Alberto looks over his shoulder. Luca doesn't bother pretending that he isn't tucking something into the pocket, just looks up at Alberto with those big brown eyes and an expectant smile. Alberto reaches around with his free hand and pulls it out. It's a letter in an envelope, folded in half, kind of crumpled around the edges now.

It's got his name on it, in Luca's handwriting.

Luca's arms dart up, then, wrapping around Alberto's neck. Luca pulls him down, and hugs him tight, their chests flush together, the side of Luca's face pressed to Alberto's, wet and cold. Alberto thinks his lungs might collapse.

He almost wants them to.

He doesn't want to let go, but he does and it's the hardest thing Alberto has ever done.

"Piacere," Luca says, shaking his hand, "Girolamo." Twists it, then pumps it, both of them laughing at the silly puns. "Trombetta."

The train whistle blows.

Alberto lets go.

He runs.

-

He stands in the sun beside the platform and reads Luca's letter, each word decisive and confident in a way that Luca is steadily growing into.

Caro, Alberto!

I guess I just can't wait to read your first letter of the season. I might have gotten a little excited and wrote one for you before we even left! I'm still not sure if I'll give it to you. You said in your last letter that you missed writing and reading them. And talking on the phone every week. I missed those things too! I missed them so much. But being with you, and hearing you laugh in person, and seeing how much you've changed and grown, was so amazing, Alberto. I can hear you and Giulia in the kitchen right now, arguing over how long to cook the pasta (Giulia is right, it's just 4 minutes), and I already miss you like crazy. Like so much, it’s unbelievable.

I miss you, Alberto.

I can't wait til next summer.

I can't wait to come back to you.

il vostro,

-Luca