By Sin We Fall

Chapter Three

We were all having breakfast in the dining room. It was loud and boisterous as any assembly of our family was. I was telling Kiara about the new piece I wanted her to compose for my solo routine coming up. Roman was sitting next to me at the table, looking up at me with those big puppy dog eyes. "Fine, one more." I said resigned, adding another pancake onto his plate, which he vacuumed up immediately. "You're gonna make the kid fat if you keep feeding him like that." I ignored Alessio's comment and instead told Roman, "Alessio feels insecure about his weight so now he feels he needs to project his insecurities onto others." Alessio scoffed at that. Maybe that was a little insensitive of me. Alessio was a very skinny baby, but then he doubled his weight three times. He did love to eat as a kid. I kept seeking sneaky glances at mom and dad, which were met with unimpressed glares. It was nearing the deadline of me accepting a place into the American Ballet Institute. Soon my waiting would be over and I'd either be devastated or ecstatic. Massimo sauntered into the dinning room, pointedly looking at my outfit. "What are you wearing?" I looked up, "oh, I found this at the corner thrift shop! I'm pretty sure it's Chanel, like couture Chanel..." The emphasis didn't have the desired effect. He didn't seem impressed by French craftsmanship. Martha and I went to the local thrift store yesterday. It was located next to several affluent neighbourhoods so I could always find some designer labels. In addition, all the proceeds went to a local animal shelter. So it was a win-win, beautiful clothing and happy puppies, what else could a girl ask for? Matt, of course, accompanied us as well. I always tried to persuade him to buy something and kept picking things from the racks for him to try on but he just abruptly decline each one. "You know, I think you were a bit too sheltered growing up. You would totally get beat up at school for wearing that." I frowned, "it's called expression of self.'' Nevio was trying to hide his laugh behind his cereal. Massimo didn't know what he was talking about, aside from the fact he was colorblind to any style of clothing that wasn't black. The blouse was gorgeous with a delicate embroidery of several layers of pink flowers and billowy sleeves. I was really proud of my find and even more excited to wear it today. The girls at ballet would love it. "It looks beautiful Greta, it matches your complexion perfectly don't listen to them." Mom said. Dad scowled over our conversation, "if anybody makes fun of your shirt, Greta, you tell me." That definitely wasn't happening. I tried to avoid conflict at all cost and inviting my family's attention anywhere, was inviting conflict.

When me and Nevio were little and bound to be with each other every second, we'd get kicked out of every school in a thirty miles radius. Including homeschooling tutors, which I never knew was possible. When I say we, I do mean Nevio, I was a good accomplice though. Finally, Nevio settled down in our sophomore year of high school, funnily enough that was also when he stopped going to school. I went to the same private school that Aurora and Massimo went to. I didn't particularly like school but they helped cater to my time consuming ballet training, allowing me to work remotely as well. I learned by movement and expression, not crammed into a classroom for the day. When I was in second grade and kept tapping my foot, Mrs. Miller said I had ADHD not a talent. Nobody really bothered me at school, I didn't care for the football games or proms. Martha loved all that, she was even prom queen. I respected that but I wasn't going to waste my time on things I knew weren't for me. I loved ballet and that's where my main focus was. I'd rather be great at something I loved rather than mediocre in things that didn't interest me. It wasn't like I had pressing parents either and I was grateful for that. Dad just told me I had to graduate, another requirement in the ever increasing demands I had to adhere to. I graciously complied with every one of them though, just to be considered for New York. So much was going into this dream. After all this I had to be able to go to New York. Right? They wouldn't be so cruel to pull it away at the last second? 

Martha kept fawning over my top at school, I smugly wished Massimo was there to see it. Martha and I met in dance class and although she wasn't serious with continuing ballet, we still kept each other going when we were feeling down. We tried to get together every week for a girls night. I wasn't allowed to sleep over but Martha's house fell under a safe zone, a rare gift. She somehow accepted all the weird rules I had around me, like the fact she could never come over to my house or I had to have a chaperone to the littlest things. She would eye me weirdly sometimes but she also knew me and knew when I was ready to tell her something I would. It was hard to find people to put up with all the little nuances surrounding my life. Soon she would be leaving to go to school in Minnesota. Anywhere near Chicago was definitely no go territory for me, so we were already planning to meet up when she came back for breaks. We were walking down the hallway together to class and Martha was complaining about Mr. Scott. "Oh, that reminds me, I have to give Camilla the notes for our presentation!" It was a group project but we both forgot about it, I quickly put something together last night with the "help" of Nevio and Massimo. Consisting of Nevio standing over me and saying something was too far left and Massimo complaining about how the information in my history book was inaccurate. A bunch of help they were. Me and Camilla had a private presentation with our history teacher after class because I hated public speaking. When I was younger I would stutter badly whenever I had to talk in front of strangers or worse a small group. The miraculous thing was with dance I didn't feel the gazes of strangers. When I realized I could communicate through movement I felt free from my fears. "Good luck with that," Martha said, "she's not here today or any other day for that matter. I heard she broke a girls arm this weekend while roller derby racing!" she whispered yelled. "Not to add her family is involved with some pretty sketchy people, I wouldn't go to her house if I were you." I strained my face, Martha was surly talking about the fact Camilla's family was involved with the Camorra. What they were involved in was child's play compared to the mothership of sin I lived in.