She clucked her tongue but her brown eyes were warm. “Silly girl. You were born to speak the language of our ancestors, but you are learning the proper way. I spoke some of the rough dialect of Naples from my mother. It’s not the same.”

“Yeah, but they make me do all these conjugations and stupid stuff. I’m never going to write a book in Italian. I just want to speak it so one day I can go to Italy.”

She cocked her head and studied me like I’d said something interesting. “Would you like that? To take a trip to Italy?”

I ate more salad and nodded. “Sure. Maybe on my honeymoon or something. How come you never went?”

Her face softened into a wistful expression. For a moment, it made me sad, wondering what types of regrets my grandmother might have. But she always told me she loved her life, even though she missed Pop Pop. Funny, I watched my mother run around trying to rule the world and wondered if she was even happy. With Nonni, she lived more simply and seemed more satisfied. I hated the way my mom rolled her eyes at the stuff Nonni said, like she was making fun of my grandmother because she didn’t run a big business. Like that should equal a person’s worth.

“Time goes fast,” she said with a sigh. “I always wanted to go with Pop Pop and your mom, but I blinked and she was grown up and not interested in traveling with us anymore. We always felt like there’d be time next year.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. It looked delicate and frail, but she squeezed back hard.

“Don’t worry about me—I’ve had my time. Your final track race is Friday, right?”

I nodded. “Coach said we can bring stuff for a party afterward.”

“I’ll make chocolate chip cookies for the team,” she said firmly. “You did so well, Allegra. You broke your own record from fall! Would you want to run on a scholarship?”

Pride shot through me. I hated tennis, but running gave me a sense of freedom, plus I could do it mostly alone. But the idea of owing a college all my extra time to run on a team, and dealing with my mother’s pressure, wasn’t a great incentive. Once again, the confusion of what was going to happen next year rushed through me. “I like running, but I don’t think enough to go after a scholarship.”

As if she sensed my frustration, she waved a hand in the air. “Then don’t. You’re a smart girl, and you’ll figure it out. Don’t pressure yourself by thinking you need to know everything before you turn eighteen.”