Jane lives on the brink of an adolescence about to end and an age she doesn't know how to deal with. Everything she knows about life has been taught her by Jace, the older brother, and his best friends: two guys that in common simply have a passion...
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With the pizza box in my hands, and a possible burn to the fingers, I juggle in front of Morgenstern's door in a futile attempt to ring the bell. If my luck has been almost perfect, by getting me here before the delivery guy and finding that the lock on the entrance hasn't been fixed yet, the same can't be said at this point. The packaging is so big that it hinders all my movements and if I tried to place it on one knee, transforming myself into a momentary equilibrist, I am sure that the skin of the leg would not forgive me, letting the excessively high temperature of the order create an extremely red and painful patch. So, at the umpteenth attempt to reach the button, a corner of the package clashes against the door, definitively attracting the attention of those who are beyond it.
Seth opens the door wide already on the war foot, ready to rail against anyone who has dared to disturb him, but as soon as his eyes recognize me, the pout turns into surprise.
For a moment he is astonished to stare at me, as if I were a ghost, then he frowns, completely ignoring the pledge of peace, albeit not definitive, which stands between us. «W-what are you doing here?» I pull a smile, uncertain, and then I lift the cardboard in order to put it on display: «Pizza pixie, in case you haven't already had dinner» I say, evidently overwhelmed by embarrassment. It is obvious that to both my presence on this landing is strange, just as it is clear that I have no idea how to deal with the bad decision that has led me so far, but I still try to resist the instinct to put the pizza box on his hands and run away with tears in the eyes - because it hurts a bit to see him, I feel a kind of excavator trying to penetrate the flesh of my chest. Moreover, looking at him in his hesitation, I realize that he must not have lived well these two days of total silence.
Morgenstern runs a hand over his face, almost as if he were trying to rub off the tiredness that was assailing him and that, I realize, has darkened the skin under his eyes, making the green-water even brighter.
With a sigh he moves, lets me enter his small alcove surrendering like a defeated prince. He keeps his head down, aware of his guilt, but for now I'm not going to mention the question - I'm not ready, but he knows I'm here for this, he realizes the gravity of his actions, or perhaps he always has been, for this has kept silent. As soon as I cross the threshold I realize that the music is turned off, the TV too, but in the air there is the acrid smell of tobacco, nicotine that gives shape to a light curtain of smoke. Wherever my gaze rests, on the sofa with the tangled blanket, on the table where the ashtray is full of butts, on the floor where a few bottles of beer are leaning against other empty ones, I can clearly see that nervousness, or frustration, got the better of him. And I can't deny that I feel a bitter taste in my mouth, conscious that I can partly be the cause of this behavior.
