“London is boring,” I say, nodding my head at him.
“Really?” he replies, taken aback. “That’s interesting you think so. See, most people would say London is rather vibrant.”
My dad’s eyes glisten at me, and I know he’s taunting me.
I give him an eye roll in reply.
“Fine,” I say, throwing my hands into the air. “You and Mom win. I will go to London, seeing as I do not have a choice and am being forced to. But it doesn’t change how I feel. I’m still very upset with you both, and I don’t see myself getting over it anytime soon.”
A smile spreads across my dad’s face. “I appreciate your honesty, sweetie. Just promise me to give it a real, wholehearted shot when you’re there.”
“I don’t do anything halfway, do I?”
“No, you don’t,” my dad says with a chuckle. He leans toward me, placing a kiss on my cheek as he rises from the bed.
Despite what he and my mother believe, I think doing a three-week student exchange in London is a terrible idea.
But there’s something even worse I have to do right now. I have to call my best friend, Anna, and tell her. I’ve known for a couple of weeks that this was going to happen, but I really thought that I could get my parents to change their minds. Usually, I’m able to convince them and get my way.
But apparently, not this time.
“Hey,” I say when Anna answers her phone. “I have bad news.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
I imagine her sitting on her bed in her newly redecorated room, staring out her window at Central Park.
I don’t say anything for a moment, not sure how to tell her.
“I’m leaving school,” I start, but I don’t get out anything else because she interrupts me.
“Mallory! What are you talking about? Why would you do that? We have so many plans for this year! Are you moving?” Her words spill out, and my stomach twists when I hear them.
“No. My parents decided that it would be an enriching experience to send me to London through the school’s exchange program,” I say, already feeling upset again.
“When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow,” I say softly.
“And you are just now telling me?” she replies, obviously hurt. “But you can’t. I mean, you’ll miss everything important. We are going to that art gallery opening on Tuesday. We have reservations booked for Nori next week, and goodness knows how long it will take to get another reservation if you can’t come.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“Ohmigawd, Mallory! You’re going to miss Matthew Miller’s party. His parents will be in Aruba, remember? You’re supposed to flirt with him and make him fall in love with you because he’s Anthony’s best friend. That way we would be best friends who date best friends. And how are we supposed to do that if you’re gone?” she asks, sounding distressed.
Because Anna’s like that. She makes all these plans in her head.
She continues her rant, and I realize that she’s right. Life will go on here without me. That’s what my parents just don’t get.
I shove a book into my duffel before dropping it onto the floor and falling dramatically onto my bed.
I notice Anna has stopped speaking.
“It’s only three weeks,” I say for lack of a better reply.
She lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I should be happy for you. I mean, London. London is awesome, right? A new school. New friends to make. And more importantly, boys with sexy accents.”
“I doubt I will meet anyone fun. The British are kind of stuffy, aren’t they?”
“Maybe. Did they give you an itinerary? Have you already decided what to take? You’ve got to pack cute London clothes. And shoes. Lots of shoes. And probably wellies. Doesn’t it rain there all the time? Are you sure you don’t need me to come over and help you with your wardrobe?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got it covered.”
“You know, I think it would be great to go to a different school for a few weeks, where no one knows you. I mean, it’s not like you’ll ever see them again, which might be fun.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
She always talks out her problems, thinking on the fly. Unlike me, who plans out everything in my life.
I sigh loudly.
“Mallory, seriously, you should try to have fun.”
“Now, you sound like my dad. I’ve gotta go pack. I’ll text you—probably every day because I’ll be bored to death.”
We end the call, and I consider what both she and my dad said.
It is only three weeks, and who cares what anyone at this stupid London school thinks of me? It’s not like I’ll ever see them again.
That thought builds in my mind. I’ll never see them again.
I smile to myself. Screw it. Maybe I will have some fun. Go to London and blow off a little steam. And then I’ll come back, having appeased my parents, and move on with my life.
I pick up the pamphlet that my father left on my dresser. Kensington School. Staring back at me is a group of overly joyful teens, all in matching uniforms.
Fakers.
They’re sitting around, looking at one another as though they have never wanted to be anywhere else. Just the sight of it makes me roll my eyes. And what’s worse is, apparently, that’s supposed to be me in a few days.
I let out another sigh before pulling myself up off my bed and grabbing another empty suitcase to fill.
Saturday, September 21st
I’m going to London.
New York—JFK Airport
“Miss James,” our driver, Larry, says with a nod as he takes my hand and helps me out of the black BMW that is pulled to the curb in front of the airport.
I give him a smile. Larry has been our family’s driver since … well, forever. He probably knows my parents as well as I do. Between driving my father to and from work and my mom’s distaste for taxis and her need to attend varying luncheons, he’s with us daily.
“Thank you,” I say as he gets out the last of my suitcases—three in total with a nice-sized duffel to top it off.
It might seem excessive for three weeks, but I hate not being prepared. The fact that I was not given any kind of an itinerary did not help. Which means I had to strategically pack for any possible outing—from cute, casual day outfits to options for going out.
And there’s nothing worse than having the most beautiful clothes and wearing them with the same shoes and bag. Each outfit is distinct and needs its own accessories, or it throws off the whole effect, and that’s not good.
Fifteen pairs of shoes later, I think I’ve done pretty well with the little amount of information I have on what exactly I’ll be doing besides sitting in a stuffy, old building in an outdated uniform. I wipe the thought from my mind, bringing my attention back to Larry. I give him a wave as he leaves me at curbside check-in, and I hand my passport to the employee behind the desk. She looks at me, a smile coming to her face.
“I see you’re traveling to London today, Miss James,” she says, obviously wanting me to be as excited by the idea as she is.
I want to reply, Unfortunately, but her smile is genuine, and I don’t really feel like being responsible for removing the sparkle in her eye. So, I give her my best I’m not faking this fake smile and nod with enthusiasm.