My friend's house is big, much bigger than mine. It's two stories tall and looks like a house you only see in the movies. It has a very North American look. Rocco's room is the one that faces the back garden of the house, I know because since I've known him this is the third time I've come to his house, the other two I did secretly from his father because the grumpy old man doesn't like them visits and my friend does not like me to interfere in his life.
I sneak into the garden, thanking God my friend doesn't have dogs to cook me his dinner, and grab some rocks from the garden to throw at his window.
“Psss Rocco,” I whisper as I aim at his bedroom window whose Solangie is off and use my aim.
It is heard is the crack... crack... crack of the pebbles crashing into his window.
From second
