Getting the Boot

by Peggy Guthart Strauss

  Kelly was a little miffed. She had been as punctual as an atomic clock these past few weeks. Andrea, of all people, should know how hard she was trying to mend her bad reputation. And what was so serious that Andrea needed to keep it from Kelly’s friends? She grabbed her bag and headed for the bus, forcing any bad thoughts from her mind.

  “What was that about?” Marina asked when Kelly dropped into the seat next to her.

  “No clue,” Kelly replied. “She just said we needed to talk later. I don’t get it; I haven’t screwed up once during this trip.”

  Marina opened her novel. “Not even once? I’m sure we can think of something.”

  Normally, Kelly would have smiled, but Andrea’s somber face loomed in her mind. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss, it sounded serious.

  “There she blows, San Gimignano! A lot of people say the skyline reminds them of New York City. What do you think?”

  Oddly enough, Kelly saw exactly what Steve meant. Even though it was set on a hill overlooking rolling green farmland, the little town’s cockeyed stone towers bore a strange resemblance to skyscrapers.

  “In medieval times, the higher you built, the richer you were. In this town’s heyday, there were more than seventy tall towers standing. Now, only thirteen are left. But they’ll give you a good idea of what a thriving medieval community looked like.”

  At Poggibonsi, the group transferred to a local bus into town. “There are no cars allowed within the city walls, so get ready to do some walking,” Steve announced cheerfully.

  “I can’t wait to show you guys some of the natural wonders in this part of the country,” he added. “Here in Tuscany, you can learn a lot about nature just by walking into a local enoteca, where they sell food and wine. For instance, San Gimignano is known for growing zafferano, or saffron, the costliest spice in the world. They also grow a special variety of grape that makes their famous white wine, Vernacchia.”

  Food, wine, and spices. Kelly could deal with that. They entered the city through an imposing archway set into thick stone walls and found themselves on a bustling main street. Kelly busied herself with checking out the pretty shops while other students dutifully pulled out their work-books and started scribbling. They only had a few hours to spend here before heading on to Montepulciano, the largest town in the area.

  Still, as they strolled the winding lanes of San Gimignano and Montepulciano, Kelly found her buoyant mood punctured by little pinpricks of worry. Andrea’s tone had been urgent, and she had looked so worn and frazzled at breakfast. Was there a problem at home? Had something happened to her parents? Kelly swiftly dismissed this theory; Andrea would have told her straight up. What was so crucial that they absolutely had to talk, yet could wait until after dinner, hours from now?

  The clear, sunny afternoon gave way to a balmy, pink-tinged dusk. As they boarded yet another bus to go to the olive grove, Pulcinella, the strange clownlike figure who topped the clock tower in Montepulciano, raised his mechanical arm and struck the hour. Not so long now until her meeting with Andrea—Kelly’s stomach tightened in dread.

  The pensione was a long, flat stone building set on a sprawling plot of land planted with olive trees. The main farmhouse and several outbuildings were just opposite the inn. Their hosts, Ivano and Teresa Severino, along with their four friendly dogs, greeted them at the door.

  It was late, so dinner was put on the table quickly. Like many meals in Italy, the food was served family-style—on huge platters passed from person to person. There was antipasto of grilled vegetables and homemade pasta for the main course. Teresa Severino explained what each dish was as it was set on the table. The kind, graceful woman reminded Kelly of her grandmother. She reached up to touch her locket, then caught herself. She wondered if her grandparents had stayed at a wonderful place like this on their honeymoon.

  Kelly hadn’t expected to have much of an appetite, but before she knew it, her plate was empty. Even Lisa the Tree Hugger scarfed down her linguini, pecorino cheese and all.

  Big bowls of locally grown grapes and figs were put out for dessert. Each guest was poured a little glass of vin santo, sweet dessert wine. Kelly sat back in her seat, stuffed. This was one of the best meals she’d ever eaten, but she also felt like a prisoner who had just finished his final dinner before facing the firing squad.

  Finally, Andrea led her down a hallway to a quiet office and motioned for her to sit. Kelly wished she hadn’t eaten so much; her stomach was churning like a washing machine.

  Andrea sighed, a pained look on her face. “Kelly, last night Dr. Wainwright received an anonymous e-mail telling him to search your locker for drugs.” Kelly relaxed; unless he was looking for Midol and prescription zit cream, she was totally in the clear.

  Silently, Andrea handed her a fax from Dr. Wainwright.

  To: twainwright@pir.edu

  From: afriend@email.com

  Subject: Kelly Brandt

  Dear Dr. Wainwright,

  I am a concerned friend of Kelly Brandt’s. She has developed a real problem with drugs and alcohol this summer. I am pretty sure that she has been using her storage space in the basement to hide her stash of marijuana. Unless action is taken, I’m afraid she’ll harm herself.

  I don’t want to get Kelly in trouble. I’m writing to you because I care deeply about her, and want her to get the help she so desperately needs. Thank you for listening.

  A Friend

  Kelly read the message twice, then went back and looked at the e-mail address, trying to get some clue to the sender’s identity. It was sent from a freebie mailbox that anyone could set up.

  “Well, this is obviously some kind of stupid gag. I mean, Dr. Wainwright knows it’s ridiculous—just tell him to go check my stuff.”

  “He already did. His search turned up a bag of pot and some other things.” Andrea leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. “Kelly, I don’t want to believe this, but it’s pretty damning evidence. Not only could he expel you immediately, Dr. Wainwright could level criminal charges against you.”

  The floor seemed to buckle and quake under Kelly’s feet.

  “I think it’s time that you told me everything, especially about the night you broke curfew.” Andrea’s face was stern.

  Kelly couldn’t stop herself—the words came pouring out. “I was with Joe and Rodney, at a club in Ostiense. I don’t remember the name. I could show you exactly where it is, though. Rodney was with this girl named Laura, she was Italian. I think Joe said she lived in Trastevere.

  “Anyway, the guys brought us drinks. I only drank a little before I started to feel weird—kind of numb and groggy. Joe said he had put something in them to make us relax. It made Laura really sick. They basically had to carry her out of there.”

  Kelly stared down at her shaking hands. “You pretty much know the rest.”

  “Has Joe gotten you involved in using drugs?”

  “No! I swear, Andrea, I’m not into that stuff. Plus, I’m completely allergic to smoke. I can prove it. I’ll even take a drug test if you want.”

  Andrea seemed lost in thought. “Do you remember if your locker was empty when you put your bags in?”

  “I don’t know. Signor Peretti did it for me.”

  “Did anyone else have access to your locker? Could you have left the key out somewhere?”

  Kelly felt her blood pressure rising. “Joe could have easily taken my key and copied it. I know he had a front-door key—that’s how we got in the building after curfew when we went clubbing.” She was whispering now. “And he smokes pot a lot. It’s one of the things about him that I really hate.”

  Andrea sat silently, no expression on her face. Finally, she spoke. “I believe that someone is innocent until they’re proven guilty. I’m not sure a drug test will be necessary, but I’m glad you’re willing to take one.”

  Kelly nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. Tomorrow, you’ll join in on activities during th
e day. You’ll spend free time with me or Steve. And I’ll have to talk to Dr. Wainwright. I don’t know if he’ll want you to go back to Rome or not.”

  “Has he called my parents again?” Kelly asked, her stomach clenching.

  Andrea shook her head. “No, and I’m hoping that won’t be necessary. Let’s wait and see what happens tomorrow.”

  Kelly nodded, numbly. She was finally feeling like she belonged here, and now, abruptly, her visit might be over. And this time it wasn’t even her fault. The injustice of it made her want to scream. She stood up and, at a total loss for words, went straight up to her room.

  Marina was waiting at the door. “Spill it, right now.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Kelly told Marina about the e-mail. Marina listened silently, her face growing cloudier. “Joe. That little turd.”

  Kelly nodded miserably. “But he’s a smart little turd. After everything I’ve done, Andrea and Dr. W will never believe I’m innocent.”

  Marina sighed. “You sure know how to pick ’em.”

  “Hey!”

  “Right, sorry,” Marina said. “The prodigal daughter has mended her ways. Well, at least Andrea said you were innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Do you really think she believes that?”

  “Andrea’s a little stiff, but she’s a straight shooter, and she seems to like you. I don’t think she’d b.s. you.” Marina yawned. “Sadly, this melodrama won’t resolve itself tonight. Wanna watch some tube?”

  Kelly mustered up a half smile and shook her head. She climbed into bed, put her pillow over her head, and cried herself to sleep.

  In the morning, Kelly watched helplessly as Andrea led Sheela out of the dining room for questioning.

  “Sheela knows every idiotic thing I did this summer,” she moaned to Marina. “I woke her up every time I came in after curfew. She could totally hang me out to dry right now.” Kelly cradled her head in her hands.

  Marina sighed impatiently. “Listen, anyone with half a brain can see that the only tripping you’ve ever done is on guilt. Are you inconsiderate? Affirmative. Bossy? I’d say. But Sheela knows you’re not a druggie, and she’d never say you were.”

  “Yeah, but getting me out of her hair might be too big a temptation to resist,” Kelly said miserably.

  Before Marina could reply, Steve walked in and ushered Rodney off to another room. This was turning into a full-scale inquisition.

  “Wow, he looks even more petrified than you do,” Marina said. She jumped out of her chair and headed off after them. “Nancy Drew is on the case. I’ll let you know what I can overhear.” She mock-saluted over her shoulder and was gone.

  The next time Kelly saw Sheela and Marina was in the olive grove, where Signor Severino was giving a tour. The morning’s activities had been a good distraction for Kelly, but the suspense was killing her—now that the three girls had a few minutes to talk, she needed to know what had gone on with Andrea.

  She started with Sheela. “So what did you say?”

  Sheela shrugged. “I told her about Starr’s party.”

  Kelly racked her brain, trying to figure out what on earth the party could have to do with the drugs planted in her locker.

  Sheela rolled her eyes. “It’s so obvious, Kelly. We were at a party with absolutely no adult supervision and tons of booze and pot readily available. In four hours, I saw you take about three sips of punch and tell a stoner to take a hike. I thought that was pretty good evidence that you were innocent. Plus, everybody knows you’re allergic to smoke. You haven’t stopped complaining about it all summer.”

  Marina chuckled. “That’s for sure. Just be glad you’re not sitting next to her on the train.”

  Kelly turned to her. “Did you hear any of Steve’s talk with Rodney?”

  “You could say that. Rodney totally freaked out and spilled his guts. He told Steve that you guys went dancing and that Joe put crushed-up pills in the drinks. Apparently, Joe stole a bottle of tranquilizers from his mother before he left California. Rodney told Steve where he’s hiding it. Rodney’s being sent back to Rome for the rest of the trip. Dr. Wainwright wants to deal with him directly. I bet Joe will be, too.”

  Kelly was flabbergasted. “You overheard all that?”

  “Nope.” Marina smiled smugly. “I grabbed Rodney on the way out and asked him. There are advantages to looking like this, you know. Most guys are terrified of me.”

  Right now Kelly thought Marina was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. She shook her head, overcome by her friends’ generosity. “You guys are the greatest. I totally don’t deserve friends like you.”

  Sheela smiled at Marina. “She’s not right often, but when she is, she’s dead-on.”

  Signor Severino handed everyone a fresh olive, then laughed as they spat out the bitter fruit. “See? Not so delicious now. But when they are cured in brine or oil . . . magnifico.” He kissed his fingers and led them on to a nearby building, where he and Teresa pressed and bottled their own olive oil.

  “Look, Sheela, they make oil especially for you,” Marina whispered, grinning.

  “Yeah, extra-virgin, I get it. You’re hilarious,” Sheela muttered back.

  After they watched bushels and bushels of olives being transformed into thick, golden-green liquid, Signor Severino handed everyone a paper cup. “Taste it. It’s the best way to know that you are getting a quality oil.”

  Kelly put a tiny drop of oil on her tongue, surprised by its rich, aromatic flavor. She added a bottle to the list of souvenirs she planned to bring home, then realized with a twinge that she might never get the opportunity. There was nothing she could do now; her fate was in Dr. Wainwright’s hands.

  In the afternoon, everyone walked into the nearby town to mail postcards and walk through its tiny, quaint streets. Kelly took in every last detail of the little village, savoring each new sight. If Dr. W’s verdict was bad, she’d need some good memories to cling to over the next few days.

  The call came right before dinner as a small group of kids sketched on the patio. Andrea jumped up quickly and walked out to the vegetable garden, speaking softly into her cell phone. Kelly and Marina strained their necks and ears trying to catch any tidbits they could, but it was no use. Andrea was way too discreet.

  When they saw her returning, both girls quickly returned to their drawings. “Kelly, can I have a word?” Andrea requested.

  Kelly got up and followed her around the building, feeling as though she were heading straight into the jaws of the Bocca della Verita.

  “I have good news. The details of your story match up with what several other students told us—we believe the pot isn’t yours. For the time being, you’re staying in the program.”

  Kelly couldn’t help herself. She jumped up and down. “That’s awesome! Thank you so much, Andrea!”

  “Don’t thank me, thank Dr. Wainwright. I’m just the messenger.” Andrea put her hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “There’s more you should know. Steve spoke to Joe and Rodney this morning. Joe stonewalled him, but Rodney had a lot to say. I didn’t tell you last night, but Dr. Wainwright didn’t just find pot in your locker—there were a couple of pills, too.

  “Rodney was really upset about what happened that night at the club. He told Steve that Joe was hiding a stash of drugs on campus. Besides a whole lot more pot and some alcohol, there was a bottle of prescription tranquilizers that matched up with the ones in your locker. I bet they’re the same ones Joe put in your drinks that night. Joe is on a train right now heading back to Rome. He’s been expelled from the program.”

  Kelly stared at the ground. She didn’t know what to say.

  Andrea looked into Kelly’s eyes. “Are you all right?”

  Finally, she nodded. “I will be now. Thanks, Andrea.”

  The group stepped off the Circumvesuviana train promptly at eight-thirty the next morning. For the next two days, Kelly and the rest of the group would be touring Pompeii and Herculaneum. Now that Kelly wasn�
��t in danger of getting kicked out of the program, she could really appreciate the sightseeing. And she had to admit, in the last few weeks, a little of Sheela’s enthusiasm for Pompeii had rubbed off on her. She had her sketch pad ready as they entered the grounds.

  Their guide, Gino, met them at the tourist office and, with a wink to the woman in the ticket booth, cut past the long line of tourists waiting for admission. Gino was an old friend of Dr. Wainwright’s who worked at the Archaeological Museum in Naples. Because he had special privileges, he could show the kids places restricted to regular tourists. He was also taking them to the museum, where lots of artifacts from both cities were displayed. A fit, cheerful man in his fifties, Gino spoke excellent English and seemed to have a story about every pillar and paving stone in the city.

  There were plenty of people inspecting the ruins, but walking the streets of Pompeii felt strangely lonely to Kelly. As she examined the brick outlines of shops, taverns, and homes that neighbored the gate to the city, it was painfully clear that this place was once a bustling center of business and culture. Then, on a normal August afternoon, the entire city was flattened by a mushroom cloud of volcanic ash as Mount Vesuvius erupted violently, twice.

  Kelly looked up at the black mountain, framed by the columns of Pompeii’s once-grand forum, and shuddered. She squinted at its peak, checking for any signs of activity. “Don’t worry, Kel. It hasn’t blown its top for sixty years. We’ll probably make it through the week,” Marina told her.

  The stone streets, rutted by two-thousand-year-old wagon and chariot tracks, painted a rich picture of life in Pompeii.

  “Don’t tell me—they had swimming pools?” Kelly pointed into an elaborately landscaped courtyard.

  “They had tons of modern conveniences,” Sheela answered. “The richest citizens even had indoor plumbing, with toilet seats.”