Chapter 1 - “How I Made Her Laugh”
Chapter 1 - “How I Made Her Laugh”
Scuola Primaria “Artemisia Gentileschi” Rome
Paolo was fidgeting under the desk, sitting on the edge of his chair, nervously glancing at the door. He already hated school. Too many new faces. Too many rules. Too much sitting. The teacher looked strict.
Even though his older sister, mom, and dad had told him all about school — how he’d make new friends, learn all sorts of things — the idea of having to come here every day didn’t sound appealing at all.
And then she walked in.
Long dark hair, green eyes like leaves sparkling in the sun. A white dress and shiny black shoes. She didn’t even seem real — as if he was the only one who could see her. Her steps were quiet, but her gaze wandered everywhere, curious, attentive. She carried a backpack with an embroidered wolf.
“I have to make her laugh — she must have the most beautiful laugh!” he thought, and something fluttered in his stomach.
Paolo leaned forward. “You know, I thought she was that witch from the cartoon — she just dyed her hair and put on glasses.”
The girl looked puzzled… then her eyes began to sparkle with the laughter she was trying to hold back.
“If she pulls out a red apple and puts it on the desk, we better run.”
Her shoulders began to shake from trying to stay serious… she covered her face with her hands, trying not to burst into laughter.
The teacher gave them a suspicious look, but he didn’t care. Mission accomplished.
He made her laugh. And he was right — she had the most beautiful laugh in the world.
— All right, children, now we will arrange you by desks — said Maestra Rosa Ferrante, wiping the blackboard with a sponge. — Paolo?! Yes, you, come here. See how quickly I remembered your name? You seem like someone I’ll have my hands full with. You know you can’t sit alone and keep talking all the time.
Paolo was already on his feet, wearing a half-smile.
— And... you, little girl, what’s your name? Arabella, you’ll sit next to him — the teacher pointed with her finger.
— In the first desk.
Arabella briefly lowered her gaze. She didn’t like when someone decided where she should sit. Slowly, she took off her backpack, placed it beside the desk, and sat straight, upright, without a smile.
Paolo grabbed a pencil and began to scribble on a blank sheet. He was left-handed, and as he wrote, he kept accidentally bumping her with his elbow. But that wasn’t accidental.
Arabella sighed quietly and shrugged.
— I won’t be able to write like this — she said softly.
Paolo looked up and winked.
— Maybe. But at least now you noticed me. — he said very seriously.
Arabella glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
— I did. And now please stop.
Paolo asked, confused:
— Why do you have a wolf on your backpack? That’s for boys.
— I love wolves and Indians. And Pocahontas. — she said, offended and quietly so the teacher wouldn’t hear.
Paolo shrugged.
— I’ve never watched Pocahontas.
Arabella muttered to herself:
— Then you don’t know what you’re missing.
— We can watch the cartoon together. Sometimes. — he quickly added.
Before she could answer, Maestra Rosa raised her voice.
— Quiet now, children! Class is starting.
Paolo leaned conspiratorially toward Arabella:
— Since we sit together, you have to be my best friend now.
Arabella looked at him once more, with a slight smile.
— If you stop hitting me with your elbow.
— Deal. — he said and as a sign of peace, put his pencil down on the desk.
Arabella smiled once again, almost imperceptibly.
A stampede erupted as the bell rang for recess, and all the children rushed outside to the schoolyard.
Paolo first ran after the boys to play football. But just as he was about to start, his gaze “caught” the girl he was sitting next to at the desk.
She was standing shyly by the fence. It seemed like she wasn’t quite sure where to go or with whom to play.
After a moment of hesitation, instead of running after the ball, he slowly walked toward her.
Paolo smiled and said:
“Why are you standing alone?”
“I’m not really sure who to play with... everyone’s already in groups. Do you know anyone from before, from kindergarten?”
“A few boys, you?”
“No, it seems no one from before is in our class, I have no one to go home with,” she answered sadly.
Paolo:
“Where do you live?”
“In Via della Luna... do you know where that street is?” Arabella asked.
Paolo smiled and nodded.
“I live on Via delle Camelie. It’s two streets away. We can go home together.”
The girl looked at him surprised, then quietly asked:
“Would you really want to?”
He nodded seriously, but his eyes smiled.
“Of course. I mean, I’d like to go together... every day, if you want.”
Her smile was quiet but sincere, as if with just that look she said “yes” more than words could.
“Great!”
Paolo looked away, as if a little embarrassed by how happy he was — but inside he had already decided: “Now I have someone I can’t wait to see every morning. And someone I want to walk home with — every day.”
The days went by like that, every day they walked to school together, sat side by side in class, and walked home together.
One ordinary day, somewhere near the end of September, the sun was still warmly shining, and the morning school shift had just ended.
Paolo and Arabella were walking down a narrow alley toward her building.
Paolo was carrying her backpack over his shoulder, proud as if someone had entrusted him with the most important thing in the world.
“You know, I really don’t understand what’s so special about that Pocahontas,” he said, stepping on the dry leaves that rustled underfoot.
“That’s because she’s brave. She loves animals and nature. And she listens to her heart,” Arabella replied, clutching her notebook under her arm.
When they arrived at her building, he stopped.
“You know what? Now I really want to watch it. Let’s put on that cartoon of yours.”
Arabella looked at him confused.
“Now?”
“Now,” he said decisively. “I already told my mom I might come over to your place. I’ll call her now.”
Arabella shrugged.
“Okay. But don’t complain if you don’t like it.”
“I won’t,” he smiled.
The door creaked softly as Arabella opened it. Paolo stepped inside behind her and carefully took off his shoes. The apartment smelled of spices and roasted potatoes.
Arabella’s grandmother, Nonna Lucia, called out from the kitchen — “Bella, is that you?”
Out of the kitchen came Nonna, a small woman with white hair in a bun and warm eyes, wearing an apron patterned with lemons and slightly floury hands. When she saw the boy next to her granddaughter, she paused for a moment.
“Oh... you must be Paolo!” she said, with a smile spreading across her face.
“Finally, I get to meet you! I’ve only been hearing about you these days.”
Arabella blushed, Paolo pretended not to hear, and bravely approached her just as he had been taught.
“Good afternoon, signora,” he said seriously but warmly.
“Thank you for letting me stay to watch the cartoon.”
Nonna smiled, gently stroked his hair, and winked at Arabella:
“Such a nice boy! You’re always welcome, dear.”
“Can I call my mom to let her know where I am?”
“Of course, dear, and if needed, I’ll call her too.”
Paolo grabbed the receiver of the old landline phone in the hallway and quickly dialed the number.
“Mom, I’m at Arabella’s. We’re going to watch a cartoon. I’ll come later. Bye!”
He hung up and rushed into the living room.
Arabella had already prepared the tape.
“Sit here,” she pointed to a spot on the carpet.
Paolo sat down, crossed his legs, and watched the screen.
“If I really like it, maybe I’ll change my mind,” he added.
The film started. Arabella was already humming the first notes of the songs, and Paolo watched the story with interest. Occasionally, he stole a glance at Arabella — she watched attentively, as if it were the first time, not the umpteenth.
When the film ended, Arabella took her notebook.
“Now you can give me back the notebook,” she said.
Paolo nodded — “I haven’t filled everything out” — sat at the table and began writing carefully, concentrating.
Earlier, Paolo had gathered courage and asked his older sister how to tell Arabella that he loved her. Although she was much older — eighteen years — to him, she seemed to know everything about everything, and he trusted her completely. He knew she would keep his secret.
Of course, she found it adorable. Her heart melted at his very first question. She couldn’t believe that her little brother, the same one who until yesterday drew dinosaurs on his bedroom wall, was now thinking about love. She looked at him gently, with a smile she tried to hide so as not to scare or embarrass him.
He was precious to her at that moment — sincere, confused, but brave. She decided to listen seriously, as if it were the most important task in the world. She suggested he write to her in the notebook since he had the chance and told him what to write.
When he reached the last question — Write something for the end, or draw — he hesitated. He looked at Arabella, then leaned forward and began to write:
You ask me who I love,
Open your heart and see,
Underneath the stars, it’s you and me. He finished and put down the pencil.
“Done.”
Arabella tilted her head, read it — then again, and again. When she realized what the first letters spelled out, she quietly closed the notebook.
She looked at him once more.
“I won’t show this to anyone.”
Paolo stood up and put on his backpack.
“Don’t.”
She said softly:
“If you had given me a notebook to write in...”
She paused briefly,
“I would have written the same for you.”
Paolo paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to smile or hold his breath.
He looked at her briefly, then quickly looked down, a bit shy.
He grabbed her hand, then let go when they reached the door.
They stood quietly at the doorway. They said nothing more.
They just looked at each other, the way only children can — honestly, without much need for explanation.
She smiled first. He returned the smile, short and a little confused, but warm.
Paolo quietly said:
“Bye, see you in the morning.”
Arabella nodded, still smiling.
At the door, Paolo turned one last time:
“And you know... Pocahontas isn’t bad.”
Arabella smiled, this time clearly.
“I know.”
The door closed softly behind him.
Nonna Lucia came out of the kitchen and commented quietly to herself:
“That boy has a good soul, my dear. It’s nice to have a friend like that.”
Arabella took the notebook and turned to the last page, running her fingers over the letters that said: YOU.
