GCSE exams along with my British classmates.
‘How can I?’ I ask with confusion. ‘I go to school here.’
‘From what I understand it, school in California breaks up for the summer before exams in the UK start, so I would suggest you fly over in time to do them,’ Stu says.
‘You’d have to take extra lessons in the meantime, to make sure you’re learning the same curriculum.’
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ I say flatly. I am so not liking this idea.
‘I just think you should keep your options open. What if you decide you want to go to a British university?’
‘I won’t!’
‘You don’t know that for sure. Libby, Lou, all your friends here will be going. You might want to do a sandwich year in the UK. You just don’t know. This will make life a whole
lot easier. Get all your ducks in a row so whatever happens, whatever’s around the corner, you have possibilities.’
I let out a loud, dramatic sigh.
‘I’m pretty sure your mum would’ve agreed with me,’ he adds quietly.
‘That is
not
fair!’ I raise my voice. ‘You can’t bring her into this!’
‘Sorry.’ For once, he’s the one apologising. But it’s too late: the damage has been done. He can’t take back his words and the simple fact is I know that he’s
right. I groan and slump further down in my seat, reluctantly agreeing.
Agnes has seemed a little down this week and she wasn’t at school today, so when Sam drives through the gates belonging to Jack and Agnes’s Spanish-villa-style
home, I’m delighted to see her standing in the tiled courtyard, waiting to welcome me.
I say bye to Sam and climb out, going over to give her a hug. ‘Hey, you,’ I say warmly.
She grins and hugs me back and, when I withdraw, I narrow my eyes at her. ‘You don’t look ill.’
‘Doesn’t a broken heart count?’ she murmurs, the usual spark gone from her eyes.
I regard her with sympathy. I take it she’s talking about Brett. ‘It’s tomorrow he’s leaving, isn’t it?’
She nods disconsolately, then whispers meaningfully: ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’
I give her an inquisitive stare, but, from her expression, I think I know what her news is.
‘You’ve
done it
?’ I whisper, taken aback.
She nods ever so slightly. ‘Come and knock on my bedroom door when you’ve finished practice,’ she urges.
‘OK.’
She squeezes my arm and then leads me round the corner of their home, past fat palm trees and a multitude of tropical-looking plants to the games room.
‘Delivery for you,’ she says to her brother, pushing me inside the room.
We don’t waste time talking.
Later, when Brandon and Miles have joined us, I bring up the subject of my interview requests.
‘Who wants to interview you?’ Miles asks with a frown.
‘One is a British tabloid newspaper. Johnny vetoed that one.’ He really doesn’t trust the tabloids and he feels it would be a slippery slope for me. ‘But the other is for
a weekly celebrity magazine called
Hebe
– also British. They want to fly over and do a photoshoot and stuff. Obviously I’ll talk about the band, but it does feel a bit wrong
with it just being me.’
Jack shrugs. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Yeah, I mean, all publicity is good publicity, right?’ Brandon chips in.
‘Are you sure? Because I don’t want to do it unless we’re all agreed,’ I state firmly. This time I look at Miles to gauge his reaction.
He seems nonplussed. ‘Fine by me.’
‘OK.’ I feel a flurry of nerves, which strengthen when I remember we have to get tomorrow’s interview out of the way, first.
After band practice, Jack takes me inside to find Agnes. His mum and stepdad Tim have very different tastes to Johnny and Meg. Instead of a minimalist pad, here the rooms are
crowded with dark-wood, antique-looking furniture, the floors dotted with intricately designed colourful rugs and the walls covered with old-fashioned paintings in ornate frames.
‘Is your mum here?’ I ask Jack,
‘How can I?’ I ask with confusion. ‘I go to school here.’
‘From what I understand it, school in California breaks up for the summer before exams in the UK start, so I would suggest you fly over in time to do them,’ Stu says.
‘You’d have to take extra lessons in the meantime, to make sure you’re learning the same curriculum.’
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ I say flatly. I am so not liking this idea.
‘I just think you should keep your options open. What if you decide you want to go to a British university?’
‘I won’t!’
‘You don’t know that for sure. Libby, Lou, all your friends here will be going. You might want to do a sandwich year in the UK. You just don’t know. This will make life a whole
lot easier. Get all your ducks in a row so whatever happens, whatever’s around the corner, you have possibilities.’
I let out a loud, dramatic sigh.
‘I’m pretty sure your mum would’ve agreed with me,’ he adds quietly.
‘That is
not
fair!’ I raise my voice. ‘You can’t bring her into this!’
‘Sorry.’ For once, he’s the one apologising. But it’s too late: the damage has been done. He can’t take back his words and the simple fact is I know that he’s
right. I groan and slump further down in my seat, reluctantly agreeing.
Agnes has seemed a little down this week and she wasn’t at school today, so when Sam drives through the gates belonging to Jack and Agnes’s Spanish-villa-style
home, I’m delighted to see her standing in the tiled courtyard, waiting to welcome me.
I say bye to Sam and climb out, going over to give her a hug. ‘Hey, you,’ I say warmly.
She grins and hugs me back and, when I withdraw, I narrow my eyes at her. ‘You don’t look ill.’
‘Doesn’t a broken heart count?’ she murmurs, the usual spark gone from her eyes.
I regard her with sympathy. I take it she’s talking about Brett. ‘It’s tomorrow he’s leaving, isn’t it?’
She nods disconsolately, then whispers meaningfully: ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’
I give her an inquisitive stare, but, from her expression, I think I know what her news is.
‘You’ve
done it
?’ I whisper, taken aback.
She nods ever so slightly. ‘Come and knock on my bedroom door when you’ve finished practice,’ she urges.
‘OK.’
She squeezes my arm and then leads me round the corner of their home, past fat palm trees and a multitude of tropical-looking plants to the games room.
‘Delivery for you,’ she says to her brother, pushing me inside the room.
We don’t waste time talking.
Later, when Brandon and Miles have joined us, I bring up the subject of my interview requests.
‘Who wants to interview you?’ Miles asks with a frown.
‘One is a British tabloid newspaper. Johnny vetoed that one.’ He really doesn’t trust the tabloids and he feels it would be a slippery slope for me. ‘But the other is for
a weekly celebrity magazine called
Hebe
– also British. They want to fly over and do a photoshoot and stuff. Obviously I’ll talk about the band, but it does feel a bit wrong
with it just being me.’
Jack shrugs. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘Yeah, I mean, all publicity is good publicity, right?’ Brandon chips in.
‘Are you sure? Because I don’t want to do it unless we’re all agreed,’ I state firmly. This time I look at Miles to gauge his reaction.
He seems nonplussed. ‘Fine by me.’
‘OK.’ I feel a flurry of nerves, which strengthen when I remember we have to get tomorrow’s interview out of the way, first.
After band practice, Jack takes me inside to find Agnes. His mum and stepdad Tim have very different tastes to Johnny and Meg. Instead of a minimalist pad, here the rooms are
crowded with dark-wood, antique-looking furniture, the floors dotted with intricately designed colourful rugs and the walls covered with old-fashioned paintings in ornate frames.
‘Is your mum here?’ I ask Jack,
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