Once I change and confirm that all my body parts are tucked away as much as possible, I stuff a towel, sunscreen, baseball cap, and book of crossword puzzles into a lightweight tote. Then I add sunglasses, a water bottle, a granola bar, and an apple.
I am extremely prepared. I feel like today might not be all bad.
Of course, I’ll find out later that I was extremely wrong about this, but for now, I’m happy and cool as a cucumber.
I make it out to the courtyard before most everyone else.
Lorenzo is there with a clipboard, going over plans with Ashley and Gabriella. When I join them, I hear the tail end of a discussion they’re having.
“—should hold out until this evening. I looked at the weather report this morning and it says it’ll be sunny all day. Nothing to worry about. Hey, Audrey.”
I smile at the group. “Morning. Can I help with anything?”
He checks his clipboard. “I think we’ve got most everything covered. The two vans I rented should be here any minute. Oh hey, do you happen to know how to drive a stick shift?”
“Manual? Yeah. It’s what my dad drives back home, and he forced me to learn. Said driving an automatic was like ‘letting the car drive you’。”
He grins. “Would you mind following behind the vans in a car with Gabriella? The vans won’t fit everyone, we’re two seats short, so I brought my uncle’s car with me today for someone to drive. I planned to drive it myself but one of the drivers for the van flaked on me, and—”
I cut him off. “Absolutely. Sure thing. I’ll drive the car. Does it matter that I don’t have an Italian driver’s license?”
“Just bring your passport and driver’s license from the States. That’s all you need.”
Perfetta.
It’s like the clouds have parted and the heavens are singing down on me. Now there’s no chance I’ll have to be in a vehicle with Noah for two hours. I’ll be in my own car. Untouchable!
I run back to my room and grab my passport, stuff it into a plastic bag with my license so they don’t get all sandy, and then hustle back down to the courtyard.
Noah’s down here now and my heart seizes in my chest, but at least I keep walking without embarrassing myself. He’s wearing dark blue board shorts and a white t-shirt. His baseball cap is on backward and I hate that he looks hot. The bastard’s probably doing it on purpose.
It looks like Lorenzo is filling him in on the plan. When I get closer, he glances sideways at me, and the revelation from last night comes rushing back. NOAH KISSED ME AND HE LIKED IT.
“Audrey.”
I blink and realize Lorenzo’s been talking to me.
He’s jangling keys in front of my face. “Are you all set with the car? It’s parked out front. You can follow right behind the vans. We’ll caravan to the beach.”
I smile, snatch the keys, and set off. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
When I stroll out of St. Cecilia’s gate to find the car I’ve been tasked with driving, I feel like I’m being pranked. Lorenzo’s uncle’s car is a tiny canary yellow Fiat 500 that looks like it was manufactured when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. It should be wedged into the meaty fist of a toddler as he says BEEP BEEP. It cannot still be drivable.
It’s a two-seater with barely enough room to store our bags in the trunk.
When I take a seat and buckle what apparently passes for a seatbelt, I quickly realize the car comes with a few quirks. There’s nothing on the dashboard but an ashtray and some weird-looking switches. No clock, no radio, and—devastatingly—no air conditioning.
Even with the windows down, it’s a sauna.
Gabriella sits patiently while I stall out twice.
“Sorry, I swear I’m good at driving stick, but this one is a little…” I clench my teeth as I lurch into first gear with a shudder. “Finicky.”
“No worries. Take your time. I’ll pull up a playlist on my phone.”
Finally—after killing the engine twice and grinding the gears to nubs—my left leg becomes one with the clutch and away we go. We’re cruising behind the second van, down historic Roman streets, and listening to Italian pop music.
I realize almost immediately that driving through Rome is not for the faint of heart. The tourists walk wherever and whenever they want （Traffic signals? What are those?）， the roads are uneven and bumpy, and drivers are either crawling by at 5 mph or careening along at 100 mph; there is no in between. I have a hard time staying behind the vans. I feel like I’m twelve again, playing Crazy Taxi in an arcade. We do a slight right onto Via del Viminale then a left onto Via Principe Amedeo. A truck lays on its horn, shouting at me about something, but I’m too na?ve to realize how I’ve offended them. We turn right at the second cross street onto Via Cavour and a group of nuns takes an eternity crossing from one side to the other. A few Lindale students in the back of the second van press their faces against the glass, teasing us.