Stella Mia by Rosanna Chiofalo

Isabella’s brother, and these are my cousins, Marco and Felice.” Tonio points to his cousins, who each give me a shy smile. I’m glad to know I am not the only one who feels awkward.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sarina. I forgot to tell you who I am in relation to these thieves.” Gianni laughs and winks at the others. “I am Maria’s husband and Isabella’s father.”
    â€œAnd my father as well unless you and Mama have been keeping secrets from me all these years.” Tonio nudges his father’s arm playfully with his elbow.
    â€œNo, no. You are definitely my son. Your brash demeanor attests to that.” Gianni shakes his head, but the grin on his face shows he is just teasing Tonio.
    â€œDo you read cards, too?” Felice asks me.
    â€œCards?” I ask, confused.
    â€œThe tarot,” Felice clarifies.
    Of course, they are zingari —gypsies. When I met Isabella, the thought that perhaps she and her family were gypsies had not crossed my mind. I just assumed they were pickpockets. But their clothes are not shabby at all, and in addition to the fish that the men no doubt caught themselves, there are several loaves of bread and platters of fruit and vegetables on a blanket that is spread on the sand. Surely, they must have paid for some of this and not stolen it all. Now that I know they are gypsies, I am not surprised by all that they have. They must do fairly well reading people’s fortunes.
    â€œNo, I don’t read tarot cards. I have been trying to get work as a maid at one of the hotels, but have had no luck so far.” I attempt to eat my fish slowly so that my hunger isn’t apparent. The fish tastes like mackerel and is coated in a breaded batter.
    â€œJobs at the hotels do not open often. People know how valuable those jobs are. This is Sicily, not the north where there are more opportunities,” Marco says in a grim tone.
    I suddenly feel foolish for not having thought of this. Of course, growing up in Sicily, I have always known of the bleak prospect for jobs. I cannot believe this hadn’t crossed my mind when I made my plan to run away from home and find work. Stupida! I mentally chide myself.
    â€œPapá, maybe we can teach her?” Tonio looks at his father.
    â€œSee, you are my son. I was just having the same thought.” Gianni pats Tonio on the back.
    â€œTeach me what?” My hunger from the past few days has made my brain foggy. I am also beginning to feel sleepy. Gianni pours wine from a small jug into a wooden cup and hands it to me.
    â€œHow would you like to learn how to read the tarot, and you could travel and work with us?” Gianni asks me. “My mother is slowly going blind. She had to stop reading cards six months ago. We have lost money. She was one of our best fortune-tellers.” Gianni looks over to where a group of women is sitting. He points to an old lady with a gold shawl over her head. She is smiling, but even in the twilight, I can tell she cannot see well. She talks to the other women, but her eyes hold an empty gaze. She seems content, and I see her laugh every now and then, revealing a top row of missing teeth.
    â€œOh, that’s kind of you, but I don’t know.” Though I’m tempted to take Gianni up on his offer, I’m also not sure how I’d feel about conning people into thinking I can predict their future. I don’t believe for a moment that Gianni and his family have special abilities and are psychic. I often heard my mother talk about gypsies who had swindled people out of all their savings. But then again, this might be the only way I can make some money—at least until I can find some other work. Besides, since being on my own, I have had to put my morals aside to steal food.
    â€œLet me talk to Maria first. I don’t make important decisions without consulting her. You can think about it in the meantime. You know where to find us. Even if you decide