Defending Irene by Kristin Wolden; Nitz

trying to sound calm. “Emi asked for my phone number so I could meet Giulia. Matteo promised me that if I wanted a boy to fall in love with me, I was in the wrong place.”
    â€œToo bad,” someone murmured. “Or I would start to play soccer.”
    â€œAnd be a maschiaccio ?” a girl named Sonia asked. “Not I. It’s not worth the trouble.”
    Ma-ski-AH-choh? I didn’t recognize the word, but the “choh” sound at the end almost guaranteed it was not a compliment.
    Elena frowned at Sonia. “Don’t worry, Irene. Maybe it is like an American film. A man and a woman—they do not like each other when first they meet. Then everything changes. Love!”
    Denials crowded through my brain so thick and fast they paralyzed my vocal cords.
    Giulia stepped in before the silence ran too long. “In this case I think not,” she said.
    â€œBut this morning, I heard him say to Irene, ‘How are you, cucciola ?’” another girl said.
    This brought on another round of giggles. And horror of horrors, I blushed.
    â€œOooh!”
    â€œEnough!” ordered Elena. “I have a favor to ask of Irene. There is an American song that really pleases me, and I want to know what it means. Will you help me?”
    â€œCertainly,” I said. Now it all made sense why Elena was being so nice. Apparently she didn’t want the walking, talking, English/Italian dictionary to get mad and stomp away before doing a few translations.
    Elena sang a few lines. Her pure Italian vowels made it difficult to understand the words, but I recognized the melody.
    â€œLove?” Luigi picked out the English word with horror. “I must go. Really. I cannot stand this chatter about love anymore. See you later, Irene. I am so glad I could help you explain what happened at the game.”
    â€œHelp me again and your head will really be in danger,” I told him.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he said. His grin told me that he wasn’t particularly worried.
    I spent the next five minutes singing and explaining lyrics. Elena and her friends were entranced.
    â€œ Uaou , Irene. You sound just like the radio!” Sonia said. Was that her apology for implying that I was a maschiaccio ? (Whatever that meant.) If so, I had a feeling it was directed at Elena more than me.
    â€œWhat is a maschiaccio ?” I asked Giulia after the bell rang.
    She blinked. “You don’t know?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHmm. After school someday, I must teach you the words that you should never repeat at home. Otherwise, your papá will tell your mamma that I am not a good girl to know.”
    â€œIs maschiaccio that bad?” I asked.
    â€œNo. But it is not very…polite. You have never heard it? Not even as a joke?”
    I shook my head. “What does it mean?”
    â€œIt is a girl who does that which a boy does. Not in a positive way.”
    Yes. I could see it now. Changing maschio , which means male, to maschia and tacking on -cio , an ending signifying that something was awful or brutal, made maschiaccio into a very negative Italian word. Something worse than tomboy, I suspected. In Italy that would be a huge insult.
    â€œThere’s so much I don’t know. What would I do without you, Giulia?”
    â€œBecome a friend of Elena?” Giulia tilted her head and looked up at me.
    â€œNo thanks,” I said. “She reminds me of Matteo. Nicer, maybe but…I don’t know. I prefer you and Barbara.”
    Giulia laughed. “Elena is not so bad. I remember once when we were angry with a boy in elementary school, we sent Elena to punch him for us. For her, it was safe.”
    â€œReally? Why?”
    â€œAlmost all the ragazzi had fallen in love with her. And those who weren’t in love with her were afraid of the others.”
    â€œDoes she still punch guys? I could send her after Matteo.”
    Guilia shook her head. “She would