The Gladiator by Gladiator

Author:Gladiator [Gladiator]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Walking to school Monday morning, Annarita thought Gianfranco seemed quieter than usual. Had Eduardo talked to him? If he had, what had he said? Annarita didn't want to come straight out and ask. She tried a different question, a safer question, instead: "You all right, Gianfranco?"

He blinked. He thought it over. She watched him doing it. "Well, I'm not sure," he said at last, quite seriously.

She eyed him, exasperated and curious at the same time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked around to make sure nobody was paying any special attention to him. In the Italian People's Republic, that kind of glance was automatic for anyone older than seven or so. Annarita suspected it worked the same way all over the world. Gianfranco said, "Wouldn't it be nice if there were no Security Police?"

"Sure it would," Annarita answered. "And it would be nice if everybody were rich and everybody were beautiful, too. Don't sit up nights waiting, that's all."

He said something rude—rude enough to startle her. Then he turned red and said, "Scusi. But I'm serious. I really am."

"That's nice," Annarita said. "No matter how serious you are, though, what can you do about it?"

"By myself? Nothing," Gianfranco said. "But if all the people united . . ."

"The Security Police would throw everybody into camps." Annarita finished the sentence when Gianfranco's voice trailed away.

He shook his head. "They couldn't do it to everybody, not all at once. There aren't enough camps for that. Not enough Security Policemen, either."

"Well, in that case the Russians would say we're trying to overthrow Socialism, and they'd invade," Annarita said. "Either they'd build more camps or they'd kill enough people so the ones who are left would fit into the camps they've got."

"But what if the Russian people united, too?" Gianfranco said.

Annarita stared at him. "You weren't drinking wine at breakfast. I saw what you had: cappuccino, just like me." Like most Italian kids their age, they did drink wine with dinner. Nobody here fussed about it, though people from northern Europe and America sometimes squawked.

"I was thinking about. . . freedom," Gianfranco said. "That gets you drunk like too much vino, but you don't come down again afterwards."

"I guess not, to look at you," Annarita said. "Be careful you don't get in trouble once you're in school."

"I'll try," Gianfranco said.

A car went two wheels up on the sidewalk in front of them to let somebody off. It still blocked traffic. All the drivers behind the offender leaned on their horns. Some of them yelled at him, too. He ignored them. Annarita wasn't much impressed. She saw things like that almost every day. Keeping Gianfranco out of trouble was more important—and more interesting. Now she could say what she needed to say: "All this talk about freedom. You must have been listening to Cousin Silvio." In public, she wouldn't call him Eduardo.

"Well, what if I was?" Gianfranco said. "He likes to talk, you know."

He does not! But the hot retort never came out. If Annarita said something like that, Gianfranco would be sure she was sweet on Eduardo.

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