Any normal American would have been ecstatic to wake up to the bright, beautiful Italian morning waiting just beyond the heavy curtains. Abby wasn't like most Americans. First and foremost, she was in Italy against her will. Sent halfway around the world by her angry parents, Abby was away from all she's ever known and loved. It wouldn't have been so bad if they had let her keep her phone. But no, they wanted to teach her about [b][i]consequences[/i][/b] and [b][i]responsibilities[/i][/b]. She would be living here until they deemed her worthy of coming back to New York. Abby wasn't even sure that was legal but with the connections her parents had, there was no way anyone could stop them. So instead, Abby continued her silent retaliation and snuggled deeper into her blanket, her back facing the rising Italian sun. 

Just when the blonde had begun to lull back into slumber, a loud clanging right next to her ear caused her to screech and fall off her bed. Her face met the hardwood floor with a delightful slam, sending sleep right out the window and replacing it with a fresh load of pain. Abby groaned, rubbing the side of her face as she glanced over the bed to see a gruff-looking old man with a bushy white mustache holding a frying pan in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.

[i]"What the hell grampa?!"[/i] Abby shouted, unable to contain her anger. The man's emotionless look didn't waver and he simply raised an eyebrow.

"What was that? I can't understand your gross American speak."

[i]"I know you can understand me!"[/i] Her grandfather tilted his head to the side in faux confusion, making Abby sigh in exasperation. He was the second reason why she had not enjoyed coming to Italy. Back when she was in Manhattan, Abby had thought of some positive points to her parents' crazy punishment. For one thing, she was going to Italy, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. And she was going to live with her grandfather of all people. She never met any of her grandparents and from what she learned from teen dramas was that grandfathers cherished their grandchildren. So in Abby's head, her grandfather was a kind, sweet old man who would allow her to do anything she wanted in the mansion he was bound to live in somewhere in Rome or Sicily or Milan. To her horror, the man she met when she stepped out of the plane was the complete opposite. Lorenzo Russo, the father of Abby's mother, was a tough, stern man with large muscles no 60-something year old should still have. And instead of a mansion in a bustling Italian city, Lorenzo chose to stay in a shabby, two-story farmhouse in some tiny Italian town Abby didn't bother to learn the name of. From what she could pry out of her grandfather was that it was Abby's father who came from wealth and fell in love with a farmer's daughter when she moved to the Big Apple. Any other day, Abby would have loved to hear more of her parents' romantic meeting but for now, she didn't even want to think of the evil traitors who sent her here.

"What do you want grampa?" She finally asked in fluent Italian. A hint of a triumphant smirk pulled at the edges of her grandfather's lips as he placed the frying pan down on her bed to pull something out from his back pocket.

"I need you to go down to the store and buy the stuff on this list. We're running low on pretty much everything." He stated.

"Sorry, no can do."

"Excuse me?" Abby simply gave him a shrug.

"I have to do some yoga before it gets too hot. My usual session takes an hour so it would be nice if you had breakfast ready by then. Afterwards, I need to watch my soaps."

"Oh no you don't," Lorenzo announced, "you've locked yourself in this house for three days straight. It's time you got out of here and did something productive."

"Technically, I'm under house arrest."

"Don't care. You're going grocery shopping." 

"And what if I refuse?" Abby stared up defiantly at her grandfather. She had long since thrown away the crying act. It did not work on him at all, seeing as the man did not have a soul. Lorenzo simply glared at her before walking around her bed and scooping the tiny girl up. Abby shrieked and slapped her grandfather's chest, but he didn't seem to be fazed by her weak hits as he carried her out of her room, down the staircase and out the front door. He then dropped her onto the grassy yard, turned around and went back inside the house. Abby didn't even process what in the world just happened until the sound of the front door locking brought her back to reality.

"OLD MAN!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" She screeched as she pounded her fist against the door. No response. Abby took a few steps back, readying her shoulder for the impact she was going to make. It worked in the movies so it should work here, right? The door looked old and rusty so it should just pop right out it's hinges. Yet before she could even make a rush for the door, it opened again to reveal her annoyed grandfather who was now carrying some of her clothes and a pair of sneakers. He threw them at Abby and she quickly caught the shorts, T-shirt, bra and one of her sneakers. 

"You're not allowed back in this house until you do as I asked." Lorenzo announced, "The list is in your back pocket."

"And where do you suggest I take a shower and change?" Abby asked angrily.

"You showered for an hour last night. I'm sure you're still squeaky clean. And you can change in the tool shed out back. You'll be staying there tonight if you don't get the groceries. Oh, here." He tossed her a tiny purse which Abby luckily caught. She turned back to the door to yell some more, but it slammed right in her face and was locked once more. The blonde let out a huff, picked up the rest of her fallen stuff and trudged over to the backyard. There was no point in trying to get in, especially in her tank top and short-shorts.

It took twenty minutes for Abby to change, only because half the time she was trying to avoid not getting bugs or dirt anywhere on her as she changed from her pajamas to her black shorts and yellow T-shirt. The blonde was now walking along one of the streets of Trespiano, looking down at the long list she had dug up from her own back pocket. Her grandfather's writing was horrible, just like everything else about him. And he didn't even provide the poor girl a map. This was going to be such a pain. 

Just down the street, Abby caught sight of a tall, dark-haired girl. She seemed friendly and was the only person she saw on these streets, so Abby decided that she was the best person to ask directions from. "Um, excuse me!" She called out as she jogged over to her, "Could you help me out with something? I'm trying to find the market, or grocery store. Or whatever, I just need to get the stuff on this list."