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I didn’t know what to think of Giovanna.
Apparently some people saw him carrying around a lighter a few weeks ago. It had gone around that Giovanna was some kind of pyromaniac, as someone said he sprayed deodorant into the lighter a bit later that day and made the lighter flare up. That was the same day that janitor died.
What was with that, anyway? The school said that the janitor had a fall, but I heard that he had some kind of heart attack or something. He was pretty old, after all.
Naples Middle-High School was not a very kind place. Especially for someone like myself. Father died when I was four from an overdose, and Mother, well, let’s just say it's a miracle that I can go to this school.
The high buildings always cast a dark shadow across the grounds. The only time you can really see everything is at noon, where the sun lights up everything, but that only happens once a day. That’s my favourite time of day.
It’d been about a week, eight or nine days maybe, since Giovanna disappeared. The police had dropped him as a suspect for killing the janitor, which is good, I guess. It just proved that no one knew what the hell was going on, and the school administration couldn’t get their act together.
That day, the 6th of April, when classes were about to start, was the first time the school had been graced with Giovanna’s presence once again. As stoic as ever, he wandered up to the front of our morning language class, as if nothing had ever happened.
I was the first to see him. I didn’t make any acknowledgment, as to not stand out, but other people didn’t have the same grievances.
“Giovanna?” Someone whispered.
“Wait, that guy is Giovanna?”
“Yeah, he hasn’t shown up since the second day this term.”
“Silence!” The teacher yelled. We went quiet, guessing where Giovanna had been. “Mr. Giovanna has returned from his family emergency. You will all do well to welcome him back.”
That was likely.
Something the teacher did not understand was that this school was very judgemental, and full of rumours. Giovanna wouldn’t last a day with all of the speculation going around about him.
“ ‘Family emergency’? More like, burning down an orphanage. ”
“I bet it was an emergency for the kids living there .” A few people snickered. I was amongst them. I shouldn’t have been – it was hypocritical of me. Plenty of people make fun of me.
I glanced back up at Giovanna. Heh. Cold and calculating, what did I expect?
However it wasn’t the kind of cold where you’re mad at people making comments about you, it was something more like the kind of cold where he couldn't care less about anything anyone had to say about him. I loathed to admire it.
We locked eyes for a fraction of a second, me looking into his ocean coloured eyes before I looked away in embarrassment.
“Alright, very funny, everyone,” the teacher dismissed, “but Giovanna is here and won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
~~~
It was the small things.
He’d do the weirdest little things. He’d taken the seat in front of me, so I was able to keep my eyes on him. Either he didn’t notice me boring a hole into the back of his head with my eyes, or he just didn’t care.
He did the weirdest things. He kept bugs and small animals and plants in his desk. I counted two cockroaches, two earwigs, a cactus, something potted (that I swore he never watered), and a baby magpie. I looked it up; it’s from Australia — apparently it was common down there.
So that begged the question: why did Giovanna have Australian wildlife in his desk? Where did he get it? How did he get it?
Of course I tried to report it to the lecturer, but for some god forsaken reason, my shoelaces were always either untied or tied together by the end of class. I would spend time fixing them, but by the time I was done, the class was empty.
Just another curiosity born from my close proximity to Giorno Giovanna.
~~~
“Why is he allowed to be on the phone? Do the teachers not care?”
I wasn’t a part of the conversation, yet I heard it anyway.
“You think he’s calling a mistress or something?”
“That’s not what’s important. The teachers have eyes like hawks, yet he’s over there, openly talking on the phone.”
The girl pointed across the yard towards Giovanna standing in the sun, for some reason purposefully avoiding the shade, having a lively discussion with whoever was on the other end of the line.
“Who does he think he is? The fucking Pope? We aren’t allowed to call people during the day, so why is he?”
It was a good question. It was one I would someday get an answer to.
~~~
Again. Every time.
Every time I thought they’d begun to mature or even leave me alone, they come back, stupider than last time. Is that even a word? ‘Stupider’? Whatever.
They had rich parents, and had just so happened to know about my mother’s… ‘business model’. The school “couldn’t do anything about it”, so I had to deal with it myself.
This time they cornered me after I untied my shoelaces from my chair leg. That was one of the more nonsensical occasions.
They brought up the usual suspects, my mother's “online presence”, my father being buried six feet under, and my general lack of academic prowess.
These cornerings would usually end in my wind going on vacation and my blood deciding the outside world was more interesting, but not this time. This time, just before the piñata game began, the door slowly opened, and a man of golden hair was standing there in the doorway.
He walked in, confusion on all of our faces. He was cool as a cucumber, cold as an iceberg, and some other similes that suited his stoicism. He approached me, the black getup gleaming in the afternoon sun through the window.
“Gentlemen.” He began, one hand on his hip.
The biggest one, the one with buck teeth and a cowlick, got up in his face. He was usually second in line to knock some sense out of me. “The fuck do you want, Giovanna?!” Saliva jumped ship onto Giovanna’s face as he said this. “Haven’t you got some ants to burn with a magnifying glass?”
Giovanna didn’t break eye contact. He casually reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, and used it to wipe the residual spit from his face.
“I want you to step away from my friend over there.”
There was no one else in the class, so he must’ve been talking about me. I didn’t understand why, but I appreciated the delay of the inevitable.
“Ha! As if!” That was the ‘ringleader’, so to speak, of their little group. He had a chain around his neck and was a little taller than myself. “ Our friend here was just about to give us some entertainment.”
I internally cringed both at the use of the word ‘friend’ and the fact that he made it sound like I was going to strip or something.
“Ahh okay. That’s alright, I understand.” Giovanna responded. He then turned to leave. What was with this guy? I thought he was going to try to save me or something. Before my thoughts could get any more wrong, Giovanna turned back around to face us.
“However,” he doubled back, “I would like to inform you that the principal will be informed of this misdemeanour.
The three looked between each other, the one I left unmentioned still holding my collar. He was the shortest, and boy was he short.
“What the hell’s that going to do, dumbass? People have ‘reported’ us many times before — this guy included. Principal doesn’t give a shit.” He was talking about me, by the way. I don’t think they know my name.
Giovanna’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he asked them all a question. “Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but you’re all brothers, correct?”
Buck tooth sneered. “Of course! We’re the Banda brothers!”
“‘Banda’ as in Lorenzo Banda? Italy’s Minister of Defence?”
The three looked between each other before chain guy (I never learned their names either) spoke up. “The very same. Still want to mess with us?”
Giovanna’s face remained emotionless. He tilted his head to the side and brought a hand up to his check, tucking his other arm underneath.
“No, thanks. Sorry for the disturbance.” And he was gone quicker than he came. We each exchanged a few looks, mine severely less delighted, and went back to our regularly scheduled programming.
~~~
It was a few days later that Giovanna stayed behind whilst I released my shoe from my backpack. I was about to leave when he said my name.
“ Mi scusi signore . Walk with me.”
I was still pissed at him abandoning me the other day, but something deep down in the limited space of my brain told me that I should humour him.
We fell in step as we walked down the hall.
“I would like to apologise for leaving you the other day,” he said, “but I assure you, it wasn’t to your detriment.”
I rolled my eyes. ‘Not to my detriment’ my ass. Tell that to my new bruises.
I tried to make it as obvious as possible to Giovanna that I didn’t want to be there. I popped in a pair of earphones, the wires leading to my phone in my pants pocket. Giovanna continued to make excuses, but I couldn’t hear him.
This went on the whole way down to the courtyard. Despite not being able to hear what he was saying, Giovanna hesitated when we got to the stairs where the janitor had died. I scoffed. As if he had nothing to do with it.
That’s when I thought I heard a siren. I took out an earphone and, yep, that wasn’t an ambulance or fire truck. It was the police.
I followed the noise around the corner and found three squad cars lined up in the parking lot, with police officers pinning down three figures. A few gawkers’ conversations caught my attention.
“ Is that the Banda brothers? ” One person said.
“ Yeah, but what do the police want with them? ”
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I rubbed my eyes a few times just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
That was them, alright. All three, pinned to the side of the cruisers, handcuffs and all.
I turned to see Giovanna a few paces behind me, his face still unreadable. I saw a policeman catch Giovanna’s eye, and acknowledged him.
“Turns out they had a bit of a drug distribution problem. And dear old father was embezzling the police force’s funds to afford a private island in the Gulf of Mexico.” My mouth hung open as Giovanna casually revealed Government secrets to a nobody like me.
“What the hell are you, a spy?”
“No, I run the largest mafia in Italy.”
“You’re crazy.”
“No, I’m Giorno.”
As he walked off, as silently as he came, I found a new appreciation for the man with golden hair, and I knew that was certainly not the last time I would see Giorno Giovanna.