Page 180 of Marcello

To start, it had a 20-foot-long stone corridor jutting off it that was so narrow, only one person could pass through at a time. There was no place to hide.

There were also iron gates at both sides of the corridor. The top gate had a massive lock, and I assumed the bottom did, too. Even if you could make it through one, you’d have to get out the other.

Not only that, but there were always two or three guards by the garden-level gate.

Despite all the problems, the rear exit was my best bet. There was no way I could sneak past the guardhouse or over the walls, so I would have to figure out how to get through the stone tunnel.

It took a few months, but an opportunity presented itself in the unlikeliest of ways.

Every summer since I was 20, I would sunbathe on top of the castle. If I lay on a lounge chair, I could stay well below the top of the castle walls so no boogeyman snipers could get me. That was the only reason my father allowed me up there.

I would also sunbathe topless. I’d seen movies where women did it – or at least unhooked the backs of their bikini tops – and I decided I didn’t want tan lines.

You could argue that since I never went anywhere and didn’t have a boyfriend, what did it matter if I had tan lines or not?

Because I was rebelling, that’s why. Papa hated the idea of me topless up on the roof, which made me want to do it all the more.

It also felt like a scrap of freedom. Freedom was hard to come by, so I took every opportunity to get even the tiniest taste.

Anyway, I would go up to the roof of the castle every day around 2 PM. My father got tired of fighting with me about it, so he decreed that no one was allowed up there when I was sunbathing.

Imagine my surprise when I caught one of Papa’s foot soldiers spying on me.

I was lying there on my back, eyes closed, when I heard a noise.

I immediately looked up –

And saw a head dart down behind the nearest castle wall.

The walls didn’t just border the roof, they also cut across the top, forming lots of walled compartments. I guess it was so 16th-century soldiers could force invaders to fight for every inch instead of having one big battle in an open space.

Anyway, someone was in the next compartment over.

“HEY!” I yelled angrily.

I jumped up, scooped my towel up over my boobs, and rushed to the wall.

Footsteps thudded across the stone roof, but I got up just in time to see one of my father’s foot soldiers running away.

Even though his back was to me, there were only a hundred people in my entire world. I had grown up seeing that bald head and chubby outline every day of my life. I would have known them anywhere.

“Eugenio Barbieri, you stop right there!” I yelled.

He immediately halted and slumped like a man who knows he’s done for. When he turned around, his face was full of fear.

“I’m so sorry, Signorina,” he whimpered. “I couldn’t help myself – ”

“What, being a PERVERT?” I shouted.

He looked around in terror and whispered, “Please, Signorina, please keep your voice down!”

“Then get over here!” I ordered. “NOW!”

He walked over to me shamefacedly – although when he saw I only had a towel over my chest, he perked up.

Maybe he thought this little encounter might go the way of his fantasies.

To quote Alicia Silverstone from Clueless: