Happy kitty, sleepy kitty, purr, purr, purr . . .” Neither Sheldon Cooper nor his mother is singing this song to me. It’s Emma. I don’t know how she learned it, but she sings it with conviction, as if it were a spell that will heal my invisible wounds. The morning after that awful night, I took a taxi straight to Lara’s. I need Emma’s innocence. I need this hushed peace. She caresses me and sings to me even though she doesn’t know what’s bothering me. But it only lasts until she goes off to kindergarten for the day. Then Lara and Giovanna decide to hold a war council. They plot revenge sitting around the sofa where I’m curled up. “What Luca’s done is unforgivable, but your sister is a grade-A bitch,” Giovanna growls. With her high-heeled boots, she’s almost as tall as the ceiling—and formidable. “Yes, but Luca is a pig. As usual, he just thinks with his little head, not his big head,”
