Page 7 of The Man with a Treasure

Turning away from the only girl I had ever cared about was tough. Walking home, now knowing I was a sheep that belonged in a pen, made it even harder. Silently, I promised to find a way out of the mess my mother had left me to deal with. Silently, I promised to find a way out from under my father’s rule, since I didn’t feel he wasn’t the one in charge, anyway.

But all promises would have to be put aside because one major one had been fulfilled.

Marching back home, ignoring I had heart wounds to lick, Sal raced to catch up to me. “Hey! What happened? Why is Zeta crying?”

I growled, “That is a question for her to answer.”

Keeping up with my quick pace, Sal studied me. “I’ve never seen you angry before.”

“I’ve never felt used before.”

“Used? By Zeta?”

“By the Giordanos.”

He stumbled but caught up to me again. “Angelo, you mustn’t say such things.”

Abruptly, I stopped and faced him. “Why? Am I wrong? Are we not sheep?”

Sal nervously peered around as if fearful we would be overheard. When he noticed we were still alone in the woods, he said, “Agreements and alliances have been made. We—” He patted my chest. “—are a part of that commitment. That’s it.”

“Did you vow to anyone? I didn’t. Why are we trapped in this?”

“Angelo, if not the Giordanos, who would you be interested in making such a commitment to?” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Clearly, Zeta is not an option you prefer. And I’m your only friend.”

“Who says I need more?”

He bobbed his head. “I suppose I have no argument since you are my only friend, too.”

“Then there’s our answer. We will vow to each other and someday break free of this,” my hand flew, erratically, through the air, “whatever we are in.”

Observing me, Sal teased, “Are you trying to swat a fly?”

“What?”

“Well,” he imitated my wild gesturing, “this is a bit erratic, even for an Italian.”

Trying not to laugh, I growled, “Sal.”

“Alright, alright. My oath: I, Sal Rossi, will choose Bonehead Angelo over the rest of my family, and break away from the only homelife we have when the time arises. Better?”

My shoulders sagged because this was an unfair request. “No.”

“Hey.” He shook me. “I meant what I said.”

With regret for ever asking for such a commitment, I shook my head. “No. Your family comes first. Do not choose me.”

“I didn’t!” He shouted, then pointed up to the sky. “He did.”

Our pact began that day. It would be on another day when it would be concreted. But, at the young age of fourteen, we were already impressively committed to our friendship.

The closer we got to home, the more we could hear voices sounding somewhat alarmed, so we took off running, both already discussing what hidden guns we were going to retrieve. But no guns were needed. Breaking the line of trees, we saw people running, sharing words with others, then hugging.

I asked Sal, “What happened?”

His jaw was hanging. “It couldn’t be… after all this time.”

As if sensing our presence, Mrs. Rossi turned to see us standing there, dumbfounded. Covering her mouth, tears dripping, she nodded to us.