American Vacanza

nobody wants to eat macaroni without cheese • siena

I couldn't look at Madison.

No, it wasn't because I was angry, although it might have seemed like it. The truth was, I was in a state of shock. She'd had pink hair since my mom and dad got engaged. I barely remembered her old brown hair, and I could really only picture it if I had a photograph.

Or, if I looked directly to my left.

It was like seeing another person; for the half hour we'd been on the car, I hadn't gotten used to the fact that Madison was sitting here next to me without her pink hair. Madison without her pink hair dye was (to me, at least) like macaroni without cheese. You didn't have the one without having the other.

But here, sitting next to me was proof, living proof, that you COULD have one without the other. I didn't know what possessed her to color it back, but I had to admit, she looked better than before. The pink hair was too bright, taking away from the fact that her eyes, when you looked, were really quite beautiful. They were brown, but the blond highlights in her hair brought out the natural flecks of gold within her irises.

"You know, I really appreciate you doing that to your hair." I stuttered. "I know it must have been a sacrifice, and I'm so glad you went through with it." What was I doing with my hands? Folding them, playing with them, putting them in my lap. God, I was so awkward. She got the message, though, right?

She ran her chipped red nails through it again, as she had been doing for the last hour, and responded, "I know. But whatever. It's over with, right? The important thing is that I'm done with pink hair. It was a phase, and I'm never going back."

She said it really solemnly and almost timidly, as if trying to reassure herself that her precious hair was okay.

"Nope. I like it like this, and imagine what Ethan's going to think when we get back to school," I replied. This conversation needed to be on a happier note. "He can't be mad at you, because that fool won't even recognize you."

"Ugh, Ethan. I just want to put as much distance between me and him as possible. Do you think I could find some new friends and maybe settle down for a bit? I mean, I want to go to college, and having a notorious party girl reputation might not be good during the application process."

Wait. Wait a minute. Hold. The. Phone. MADISON was actually worried about her college prospects? I just assumed that her dad would donate a building to whatever college she wanted and bam, she'd be there. But she wanted to impress people, build a better name for herself?

Was this the same Madison? It was... good for her, I guess. Was she about to start wearing button-downs and sweaters, drinking tea, and visiting the library on the weekends?

"That's great, actually," I found myself saying.

"Good. You know, I want this to represent something more. I want to be a better person now, not the crazy bitch I was before. It's time to grow up, I guess."

I nodded along, wondering if I was part of the reason she'd done this? Once we started getting along, I'd seen a gentler side to her. Did that gentle side take over and convince my sister to go back to normal?

"That's good. But you'll still be my cool older sister?" I joked, cracking a grin as wide as the Atlantic.

She chuckled to herself. "I hope so. If cliff-jumping, Vespa-riding, and shameless flirting with Italian guys are awesome, then yes. I'll still be cool, because those three things are literally my entire plans for the summer. Party girl Madison might be gone, but crazy girl Madison is here to stay." Her eyes wrinkled, the way eyes do when the person is really happy.

"That actually sounds good. But can we make sure to get some tanning in there? I'm actuallly paler than Santa's ass."

"Did the Queen herself just swear?" she joked slyly, but something about her tone made me laugh. "But we'll be toasted marshmallows at the end of the summer. Don't worry about it."

"So you're saying we'll be fat and brown?" I joked, squeezing my stomach. "But I worked hard for this bikini body!"

"No offense, but it wasn't that hard. You've got the metabolism of a squirrel, and besides, it's not like your mom buys anything with an ounce of fat in it," she reasoned, looking down at her own thighs.

"True. Whatever." I looked out the window at all the cars flying by. "You think we'll make it to NYC by tonight?"

"Girl," she replied forcefully, "we'll make it to New York even if we have to cross through hell. We're not going to sleep, even if we get there at two. Which won't be very likely. Look at the little dot on my phone; it's almost halfway across the state!"

"That's not true. It's like, a third, if that. I appreciate the positivity, though."

She self-consciously touched her hair again. "That's the power of Madison 2.0."

"Madison 2.0," I replied, chuckling to myself. "Wasn't the pink hair technically 2.0?"

"If you're thinking like that, yes. But the way I see it, the pink hair stage was a minor thing, maybe 1.1. This new me comes with an all new personality, a lot more maturity, and a spike in cuteness percentage."

"But now that your hair's back to normal, you're doing a big personality revamp too?" I didn't want Madison to change. She was amazing the way she was.

"Dont you see?" She stepped on the gas a little more, lurching the car forward. "The personality revamp already happened. I just wanted a new look to represent it."

A moment of silence followed, during which we listened to the rush of the cars going by and the wonderful symphony (note the sarcasm) of the bumper strips whenever Madison drove too close to the edge. It wasn't true silence, but it felt like you could hear a pin drop inside the car.

"Listen," Madison started, trying to look at me and the road at the same time. "If you think about where we were before this trip started and where we are now, it's a huge difference. It might be stupid, but maybe Mom and Dad were right. Maybe they knew what was best."

"Maybe," I replied. "It is pretty damn stupid, but maybe they did know what was best. I mean, this is a learning experience for the both of us. Just imagine how glad we'll be tonight, or possibly early morning, when we hop on that plane and just wait to get to the Naples airport. It'll all be over, and we can call ourselves survivors."

She laughed, probably at something I didn't understand. "When we get to Capri, we need to tell Dad and Mom how sick they are for doing this to us. It worked, but what if it didn't? You know, we could have been kidnapped and ransomed, and then Dad would have to give them like a billion dollars. That wouldn't be good."

I shook my head. "No, it would not."

"But seriously, no matter how much bonding we did on this trip, we have to stick it to them somehow."

you all know how much i hate to be thirsty, but:

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