By Elisabeth Boyer
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Additional resources for A l'Italienne French
Faddegan flashed a toothy yellow smile as I dropped the towel bag on the counter. “Thanks, Joseph. ” “Guess you didn’t hear. We’re moving to Florida. ” Her news surprised me, though Mrs. Faddegan had been threatening to leave New Jersey for years. “Herb and I bought a condo in Boca Raton,” she said, sliding a brochure across the counter. ” I asked. “I’m not sure,” she answered, her face serious, like she wanted to call Florida to find out. Mrs. Faddegan started to say something else, hesitated, and then started again.
It should’ve been a ninety, but Mrs. ” “No excuses, Joseph. You need top grades going into high school, and you’re an honor student. ” He wiped his head with his T-shirt. This was my first conversation with Dad lasting longer than thirty seconds since my birthday dinner. So 37 far no one had drawn blood, so I figured I’d try him on the essay. Maybe he’d have an idea. ” he asked, as if he’d read my mind. Call me Chicken Calderaro. Just thinking about this suddenly made me clammy. “I’ve got to write an essay, Dad, about my ancestry.
She’s had plenty of boyfriends, but Mom says no one ever treats her good enough. You hang out in a hair salon for more than ten minutes and you could write a biography about any one of the hairdressers. 41 “I’m so happy to see my favorite teenaged godson,” Aunt Foxy called out. ” I pointed to the plastic bag she was filling on the floor. She came over and gave me a hug. ” I knew Aunt Foxy’s joy had just as much to do with the towels as it did with my being her favorite godson. ) Whenever I walk into Shear Impressions, Mom and Aunt Foxy immediately see me as Joseph the Towel Boy.
A l'Italienne French by Elisabeth Boyer