Pasta Imperfect - By Maddy Hunter Page 0,74

home."

"No." Jackie shook her head defiantly. "No, no, no."

"I bet that would be a lovely outfit on you," Mom commented to Jackie as we stood outside a clothing store not far from the Piazza della Repubblica. Jackie bared her teeth, crossed her eyes, and slashed a finger across her throat at me. I was so proud of her. She and Mom were really starting to bond.

We'd wowed Mom with a visit to the Duomo earlier, then crossed the street to tour the Museo dell'Opera dell Duomo, where we saw Lorenzo Ghiberti's original baptistry door panels under glass, another Michelangelo Pieta that was assumed to be a self-portrait of the sculptor himself, and a dimly lit room that housed the sacred relics of prominent saints in ornately designed reliquaries. Mom really liked that room. She used up a whole roll of film trying to get a good shot of St. Joseph's finger. She thought the pictures would make a good show-and-tell presentation at one of Nana's Legion of Mary meetings.

"A million lire," Mom said as she studied the dress on the headless mannequin in the store window. "How much is that in real money?"

"Five hundred dollars," I said as I trained a casual look over my shoulder, on guard for anyone who might bear a likeness to Gabriel Fox. I tried to imagine what he'd look like in a hat. With sunglasses. Without his beard. But the only people who looked familiar to me were the Severid twins, who were waving at me from the other side of the street. I shouldn't have been surprised they were still wearing my cigarette pants and bodysuits. One thing I'd learned on this trip: spandex wielded incredible power over dyed - in - the - wool Lutherans.

"We have a favor to ask," Britha announced as they joined us. "Would you mind telling us where you had your hair done, Emily? Barbro and I have decided we need a new look, don't we, Barbro? We were thinking about something a little more flashy. Something that suits our new outfits a little better."

Barbro picked it up from there. "Something bold and brash -- a style that roars. A cut that looks the same as yours!"

The same as mine? It wasn't enough they were wearing my clothes? Now, they wanted my hair? I liked to think of myself as a nice person, but come on! Britha's request was a blatant violation of the unspoken code that a female should never copy a friend's car, clothing, or hair. Of course, the twins had done nothing but copy each other all their lives, so maybe that explained their ignorance of the code.

"Um..." I smiled. I hedged. I --

"I know the name of the salon," Mom said helpfully. "It's called Donatella and it's located by that lovely cathedral. Would you like me to help you find it?"

I shot Mom an evil look.

"I'll show you where it is!" Jackie offered. "In fact, I can take you right to the front door!"

My mouth fell open so far, my chin hit my knees.

"No, no. We don't want to take you away from what you're doing," Britha demurred. "If you just point us in the right direction, I'm sure we'll be able to find it. We're from Iowa, you know."

"Pleeeeease," Jackie begged. "Please let me help you." She extended an arm to each of them. "I absolutely insist. Maybe I'll get a shampoo and style myself."

I threw Jackie a murderous look and mouthed the word "traitor." She favored me with a delirious smile that bespoke the thrill of escape.

"Would you mind if we made one small detour before the hairdresser though?" Britha asked Jackie. "We passed a little jewelry shop down one of these side streets that had some lovely earrings in the window. Clip - ons. Clip-ons are so hard to find these days. Would you mind stopping? We'd be quick."

"Maybe you should think about getting your ears pierced," Jackie suggested as she pointed them toward the dome of the cathedral. "You'd have a much wider selection of earrings to choose from. I could do it for you! All we'd need is a sterile needle, gold studs, an ice cube, and some disinfectant."

I shook my head as Jackie herded Britha and Barbro across the street. She really shouldn't get their hopes up about the ear piercing. The twins might already have a sewing needle and disinfectant, but this was Italy. They could forget about the ice cube.

"They're going to have such a nice