56

 56

ALL THAT TIME, Martino was in the hut in the middle of the woods.

For the entire morning at school he had brooded over things to say to Giulia but hadn’t managed to utter even one of them. It was astonishing how awkward her presence made him, and yet this awareness wasn’t enough for him to control himself. His hands, for example: if he suspected that she was looking at him, his hands turned into a couple of mechanical shovels wholly unsuited for fine work such as tying his shoelaces or taking a sharpener out of his pencil case. His brain made desperate attempts at the control panel to maneuver those shovels, but the knot on his shoes turned out loose and cockeyed, the sharpener fell to the floor, and his foot—also clumsy—kicked it away by mistake.

Besides, there was his secret, which stood in his way. Sometimes he forgot about it for a while, at times it made him fractious, but most of the time he felt like he could keep it forever. That wasn’t true, because the teacher was dependent on him and it was impossible to sustain a burden like that for long.

Lea had let him go out after he solemnly promised not to venture far from home—and he’d scaled the hill without losing a moment. Despite having food, water, and blankets the teacher looked increasingly unhealthy: the skin on her face was sagging under her cheekbones and purple rings haloed her eyes. Talking to her, however, had become easy, much easier than talking to Giulia.

“What did you do today?” she asked him, and he didn’t refrain from mentioning Giulia and confessing that they had become friends, sort of.

Silvia seemed not to react. Her expression was gentle, faintly dopey.

“Why don’t you go back?” Martino went right in.

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of being blamed.”

“But nobody thinks that!”

“I feel it myself. In my conscience.”

Martino fell silent. He was pondering things.

“As if someone were keeping an eye on you from the inside,” she added to explain what a conscience was.

“A teacher.”

Silvia looked away from the mud caked on her shoes and dirty skirt.

“Yes, a teacher,” she said.