“Marco,” she panted, when she reached the side of the bike, “are you too late to give a lift to a beautiful blond friend?”

And she wasn't lying. Angela wasn't just a friend and she wasn't just blond, but she was also a very beautiful fifteen year old girl who didn't lack admirers.

“Let's go, jump on, don't waste time,” Marco said hurriedly. “And hold on tight!”

No need to say it. In a few seconds, the two were already in front of the gates of the Giuseppe Garibaldi Classical Lyceum: he was fairly calm, even if he was still in a hurry; she, a bit shaken, was asking herself why she had ever asked for that ride from Marco. Garibaldi had been Tommaso's school, and Angela, a girl of unusual intelligence and inner strength, had not only been one of his classmates, but also one of his best friends.