people on the trip are invited to the meeting. I run a hand over my face, not believing this.
“Al l right.” Mr. Echols stands and claps his hands together. “Everything is looking in order for our upcoming trip. Travel arrangements have all been confirmed. Thank you, Amelia.”
Every other person in the room looks over at her. I can’t do it.
Mr. Echols lists off a few more details, but I’m starting to lose him.
“I have our schedule of events here.” Mr. Echols puts the stack of papers on Amelia’s desk, and she dutifully stands to dole them out. When mine arrives, I mumble thanks in her direction and do my best to avoid looking up at her. It’s still hard to concentrate on the words on the pages, but I try.
The Pyrenees Excursion. Right at the beginning of the trip. Day two. At least that will get me to Milan before the sixteenth. If Sawyer doesn’t ruin things for me, that is.
“Look, The Cathedral of St. Eulalia ,” Matt says from beside me. We’d just read up on that yesterday. He points at something on my paper, and the words finally start to come into focus. I can’t believe the amount of sites Mr. Echols has planned for us to see.
“And Casa Batlló ,” I whisper. There are all sorts of excited murmurs going on around the room.
At the same time Amelia heads back to the front, dropping her last paper onto Sawyer’s desk, Mr. Echols says, “Also, we have one additional student who will be joining us. Right, Amelia?”
“ Mierda ,” I mutter, under my breath. Somehow swearing in Spanish feels more like stress-relief than doing it in English. Maybe because I know I’m only saying it for my own benefit. I try to think of how to say shit not just in Spanish, but Italian as well. Then French. Do I know it in German? Oh yeah, that’s easy, Scheisse . I come up with six variations and say them mentally before my breath comes back to me.
Amelia stands at the front facing the group and holds out an open hand toward Sawyer. It's an invitation for him to take her hand. And I can tell by the smug look on her face that Sawyer's trip depends on him living up to his end of the bargain. It depends on giving Amelia a leg up socially. Sawyer Bishop has to purposely touch her.
Sawyer stands, and looks back at me. My heart aches that I'd been so wrong about him. He's only using Amelia to get on the trip, and maybe he doesn't care about her at all, but now I wonder if he was using me too. Maybe the whole thing was about undermining Tristan.
“ Don't.” I mouth the one word to Sawyer. I want so badly to believe this is all a stupid mistake. He stares at me for a long second, but slowly his eyes drift down from mine to the floor, and I know before he even turns away that he's going to Amelia. Even though I can't look, the sound of sucked-in air around the room tells me that he's done it. He's taken Amelia's hand, and in that second, confirmed that I mean nothing to him.
But my heartbreak only lasts for an instant. Then I'm angry.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Echols,” I say, jabbing my hand in the air. He looks at me with eyebrows raised. “I thought the trip was fully booked.” I don’t really care how venomous my voice sounds. I’ve been saving for this trip for over a year. I’ve planned every detail so I can finally track down my dad and get him to help my family. And Sawyer just waltzes in here, and he’s allowed to join in?
“There are…extenuating circumstances,” Mr. Echols says. “As you know, Miss Sheridan had to back out last week because of a death in the family.” He turns from me, raising his eyebrows again. I know the look. The look that says: Why is this child bothering me with these silly questions? Isn’t it enough that I’m arranging the European sightseeing tour of a lifetime?
Sawyer keeps his eyes down, but he's still grasping Amelia's hand. His face is hardened and void of emotion.
When Mr. Echols finally dismisses us, I say a micro-fast goodbye to Matt, and whisk out of
“Al l right.” Mr. Echols stands and claps his hands together. “Everything is looking in order for our upcoming trip. Travel arrangements have all been confirmed. Thank you, Amelia.”
Every other person in the room looks over at her. I can’t do it.
Mr. Echols lists off a few more details, but I’m starting to lose him.
“I have our schedule of events here.” Mr. Echols puts the stack of papers on Amelia’s desk, and she dutifully stands to dole them out. When mine arrives, I mumble thanks in her direction and do my best to avoid looking up at her. It’s still hard to concentrate on the words on the pages, but I try.
The Pyrenees Excursion. Right at the beginning of the trip. Day two. At least that will get me to Milan before the sixteenth. If Sawyer doesn’t ruin things for me, that is.
“Look, The Cathedral of St. Eulalia ,” Matt says from beside me. We’d just read up on that yesterday. He points at something on my paper, and the words finally start to come into focus. I can’t believe the amount of sites Mr. Echols has planned for us to see.
“And Casa Batlló ,” I whisper. There are all sorts of excited murmurs going on around the room.
At the same time Amelia heads back to the front, dropping her last paper onto Sawyer’s desk, Mr. Echols says, “Also, we have one additional student who will be joining us. Right, Amelia?”
“ Mierda ,” I mutter, under my breath. Somehow swearing in Spanish feels more like stress-relief than doing it in English. Maybe because I know I’m only saying it for my own benefit. I try to think of how to say shit not just in Spanish, but Italian as well. Then French. Do I know it in German? Oh yeah, that’s easy, Scheisse . I come up with six variations and say them mentally before my breath comes back to me.
Amelia stands at the front facing the group and holds out an open hand toward Sawyer. It's an invitation for him to take her hand. And I can tell by the smug look on her face that Sawyer's trip depends on him living up to his end of the bargain. It depends on giving Amelia a leg up socially. Sawyer Bishop has to purposely touch her.
Sawyer stands, and looks back at me. My heart aches that I'd been so wrong about him. He's only using Amelia to get on the trip, and maybe he doesn't care about her at all, but now I wonder if he was using me too. Maybe the whole thing was about undermining Tristan.
“ Don't.” I mouth the one word to Sawyer. I want so badly to believe this is all a stupid mistake. He stares at me for a long second, but slowly his eyes drift down from mine to the floor, and I know before he even turns away that he's going to Amelia. Even though I can't look, the sound of sucked-in air around the room tells me that he's done it. He's taken Amelia's hand, and in that second, confirmed that I mean nothing to him.
But my heartbreak only lasts for an instant. Then I'm angry.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Echols,” I say, jabbing my hand in the air. He looks at me with eyebrows raised. “I thought the trip was fully booked.” I don’t really care how venomous my voice sounds. I’ve been saving for this trip for over a year. I’ve planned every detail so I can finally track down my dad and get him to help my family. And Sawyer just waltzes in here, and he’s allowed to join in?
“There are…extenuating circumstances,” Mr. Echols says. “As you know, Miss Sheridan had to back out last week because of a death in the family.” He turns from me, raising his eyebrows again. I know the look. The look that says: Why is this child bothering me with these silly questions? Isn’t it enough that I’m arranging the European sightseeing tour of a lifetime?
Sawyer keeps his eyes down, but he's still grasping Amelia's hand. His face is hardened and void of emotion.
When Mr. Echols finally dismisses us, I say a micro-fast goodbye to Matt, and whisk out of
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