The driver unloaded the luggage and I studied the Hotel Artemide, which seemed more modern than I’d imagined. The multitiered building was squeezed on both sides by storefronts, lined up in a neat row on a narrow street. The road was packed with tiny cars touching one another’s bumpers, and it was loud, like NYC. Lots of voices and beeping attacked my ears. Then again, Rome was a big city, and not rural like Tuscany, so I figured it’d be a different experience. Right now, all I wanted was something to eat, a bed, and a long nap.

I also didn’t want to be here.

Bonnie and Claire thought I was nuts. I’d been busted for pot and rewarded with a trip to Italy. They didn’t understand the real punishment was taking me away for the entire summer so Mom could act as my jailer, able to watch and examine my every move. Connor had gotten off with probation, and Freda and David ended up being released. Seemed like the judge didn’t feel like putting a bunch of teenagers in jail for being stupid. Of course, Mom had to show up with a fancy-ass lawyer she didn’t even need to argue my case, which got some eye rolls from Freda, and after a public scolding, I was mercifully let go.

The last two months had been hell. Mom almost lost that big account she’d been working on, and when I came home, she announced we were going to Italy with Nonni. No discussion. I flipped out, refusing to go, but she’d just looked at me with cold eyes, and I broke a bit inside. It seemed harder and harder to connect with her. It was as if she felt nothing and didn’t care. I could have dealt with a temper tantrum, where she yelled and screamed at me—anything but that flat stare. She shrugged, said I had no choice, and went to bed. After that she checked up on me wherever I went, called my guidance counselor to make sure I skipped no classes, and contacted Bonnie’s and Claire’s parents when I spent the night at one of their houses. By the time I got on the plane for this supposed family-bonding trip, I already felt battered and pissed off.

God, I was tired of feeling like such a mess. But I didn’t know how to feel any different.

We went into the lobby, decorated with shiny white floors, sparkly chandeliers, and wine-colored couches. A red-and-black painting of a woman in a fashionable hat took up one whole wall. There were a lot of mirrors and fancy gold accents everywhere. I was about to head over to the couch to wait while we got checked in, but a man dressed in a sleek black suit came right over.

“Buongiorno. Ferrari?”

I nodded. Mom stepped forward. “Sì. Do you know where our tour guide is?”