a/n: This book was put on hiatus 2 months ago, but I've decided to continue it. Here's the 3rd part, enjoy!

"That's it, Giulia Marcovaldo. You're getting a trumpet." Luca grumbled as I woke the sleepyheads up yet again with my daily fake-trumpet solo. "The radio has graciously provided me with one," I smiled proudly. "And you both should probably get up, otherwise you'll miss Papa's surprise for us!"

It was true, and I wasn't pranking the boys (for once). At dinner yesterday, Papa had promised that he would give a surprise to us three after breakfast. And so we slept eagerly until this morning, where I bounced out of bed to wake the sleepyheads up.

"The surprise!" Luca suddenly remembered.

"I don't believe Giulia," Alberto narrowed his eyes. "Last time there was a surprise--"

"Don't you remember what Papa told us last night?" I questioned. "Oh, maybe not, since you were busy doing something else!" I waved my fist angrily at Alberto. Last night, it was as if he was in a daze. He wolfed down his pasta without even using a fork. It was disgusting. Then he went to bed, completely wiped out. Even on the most tiring days, I would have fallen asleep before him last year. Now it was completely different.

I went out with Papa today to catch fish, because Alberto was really working at the beach. We made a nice catch, and I delivered the fish as usual. A very uneventful day. Luca was probably reading in my room the whole day. He had recently bought a book about aliens or something like that, and was fascinated. He said it was called Pokémon. Sounds Japanese if you ask me.

When we all came back to the house for dinner, it was like Alberto was a changed person. Either that, or something had possessed him. He didn't pay attention to anything at all, and most certainly did not contribute to washing the dishes. It was infuriating, but Papa said, "He's a growing boy. Probably having a mood swing." Heck, I was a growing girl too. But I didn't have big mood swings like him!

At night, I jumped from my window to the treehouse. And I found him exactly the way I had envisioned, staring dreamily at the night sky. "Scorfano. What is up with you?"

"Don't look at me like that," he swatted me away. As if that was going to make me leave. "Don't wave ME off like that. You are going to tell me what's wrong with you and your so-called 'mood-swings'." To emphasize my point, I reached my hands out and shook his shoulders. HARD.

"Okay, okay. Remember the television shop in the town square?" I nodded. "Of course. I've lived in Portorosso longer than you have,"

"Well, there was this guy on TV with CRAZY black hair. The announcer said his name was Elvis Presley, and he was singing into this microphone with. A. GUITAR!!! The song was really catchy too. It had this swinging feel to it."

And then he started singing the song.

"Well, since my baby left me

Well, I found a new place to dwell

Well, it's down at the end of Lonely Street

At Heartbreak Hotel!"

I blinked, once, twice, three times. "Ooookay..." I said slowly. But I didn't tell Alberto that the tune was already stuck in my head. I had passed by the television shop when delivering the fish multiple times, and the same song was playing on the television on display every single time I went past the shop.

Alberto took the silence to his advantage, and started to rant. Luca had already climbed up the tree, and sat next to me to listen. "The guitar was so sleek, and pretty, and when the guy brushed his fingers across the strings it made a noise even prettier than violins!"

I rolled my eyes, knowing what would happen next. "If you wanted it so much, you could've told us directly instead of being in a daze the whole day." I worried about our sanity if Alberto ever got his hands onto a guitar. It was bad enough already with the Vespa infatuation, but it would just get worse if he owned a guitar.

"Giulietta! Luca! Alberto! Come down to the dining room for the surprise," my father shouted.

"Coming!" We chorused. I jumped off the tree and into my bedroom window, then raced down the stairs. The boys followed me, and our footsteps echoed against the wooden boards of the staircase. When we reached the landing, I almost bumped into my father. His massive figure was blocking the entire view of the dining room. We stood in single file, facing my father. "Three, two, one, SURPRISE!" he boomed, and stepped out of the way.

It was a guitar, placed smack in the middle of our dining table.

I must admit, the guitar was a sight to behold. It was red in color, and intricate golden designs were drawn on the sides of the guitar. A silver metal bar was placed underneath the hole (something related to science and sound, I guess). The guitar was placed on a stand for everyone to see, and despite myself, I smiled.

Surprisingly, I was the first one to touch the strings. I found out that the string farthest to the right was the one that made the highest pitch. The string to the far left made the lowest notes.

"E, B, G, D, A, Low E." I recited. Luca and Alberto looked at me quizzically. What? It wasn't my fault that I had perfect pitch. I took a step back from the guitar, and nodded at it thoughtfully. The notes made a pleasant sound. I could get used to it.

I looked over my shoulder, and Alberto still stood at the landing with his mouth open, as if he was still in a trance. "Wake up, or else I'll take the guitar," I waved my hand in front of his face.

Alberto finally came to his senses, but instead of stepping forward to test out the guitar, he ran back up the stairs. 30 seconds later, we heard a triumphant shout coming from the treehouse. "WE GOT A GUITAR!!!!!!" Then, panting heavily, Alberto reappeared.

Luca was surprisingly the least interested in the guitar. "I like LISTENING to music, not PLAYING music. So as long as you and Alberto play decent music and I don't lose my head, I'm fine with whatever you guys do to the guitar," he told me. I looked at him incredulously. "You're not even going to give it a try?" I asked. "Nope," he said with full confidence.

The next morning, Alberto and I raced down the stairs to see the guitar again. What had happened last night was all real, and the guitar proudly took in all the sun in the corner of the room closest to the window. Luca came in soon after, reading his 'Pokemon' book. I would find out what that was later; the guitar–and breakfast, of course—were of utmost importance.

After breakfast, the three of us decided to take a walk around the town square. Alberto excitedly dragged Luca to the television store, where Elvis Presley proudly sang that 'heartbreak hotel' song of his. "See? See? I wasn't joking, Luca!" he grinned. Luca nodded in approval, still immersed in his book. We traipsed across the town square to the bookstore, where Alberto eagerly began looking for a guitar book. Sure, I was awed by the guitar, but I had better things to do. I knew full well that Alberto could take care of the guitar.

I joined Alberto in the songbook aisle, whereas Luca went in search of another 'pokemon' book. What was it that was so interesting about that book? I shrugged it off; the mystery would most probably be solved by tomorrow's lunch.

I scanned the bookshelves for a particular book that I had in mind. Finally, after 10 minutes of agonizing searching, I found the book— "24 Italian Arias and Songs". The afternoon radio had been playing these songs for a few days in a row now, and I was intrigued by what songs the women on the radio were singing. Some of them sounded soft and dreamy, like a lullaby, whilst others could reach super high notes with a volume that was bound to make the windows shatter. Those songs would serve as good lullabies or wake-up calls for the boys.

After the three of us made our purchases, we raced back home to share our new discoveries...

PARTE DUE COMING NEXT WEEK!

~Giulia Marcovaldo