Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
At the same time, I’m not sure $2,500 is enough to convince me to spend three weeks abroad with a tagalong troop of middle schoolers.
Undecided, I take a bowl of risotto over to the couch and eat while I check my calendar.
Let’s see, in July, I have my dad’s birthday on the 6th and a routine dental cleaning on the 13th. There’s also an event on the 20th titled Beach Weekend with Jeff, but Jeff and I broke up a year ago, so I’m not sure what that’s doing there.
I delete it and my month clears up even more.
Some people would find this deeply depressing.
I only find it mildly depressing.
Look at all the days with no obligations. I could literally fall through an open manhole and no one would report me missing for weeks!
I don’t even need to consult my friends or family to know what their advice would be.
My mom would tell me, Do it! Shake things up! Get out of your comfort zone!
My friends would say, Think of all the hot Italian men! You could find your soulmate!
My dad would say, Rome?! I just watched a History Channel docuseries on Mount Vesuvius and it’s bound to blow any minute. You’re better off staying in the States. Don’t want to end up like those poor people in Pompeii.
With a defeated sigh, I close my laptop.
It’s decided then. I’ll go to Principal O’Malley’s office first thing in the morning.
Apparently, I’m going to Rome.
Chapter Two
If you’re wondering why there’s tension between Noah and me, it’s simple. We’re oil and water. We don’t mix. Oil and water should just leave each other alone, but in this case, oil likes to needle water. Water is completely innocent of any wrongdoing. Water is a good teacher who minds her own business. Oil is the villain here, not water.
We’ve worked together for three years and I’ve lost track of all our antics.
It’s hard to know who threw the first punch.
I remember Noah crafting an elaborate Halloween prank so that when I opened my classroom door, fake spiders rained down from the ceiling. I screamed so loud the school security guard came shuffling down the hall as fast as he could.
Take cover!
To be fair, later that year, I forged Noah’s signature on a fateful sign-up form.
“And I see Mr. Peterson volunteered to lead our sex-ed assembly for the eighth graders. Let’s give a round of applause for Mr. Peterson,” announced Principal O’Malley in that week’s all-staff meeting.
Noah’s withering gaze found me instantaneously.
His You’ve Gone Too Far stare was worth every spider.
Even though we both adhere to the unspoken rule Never tattle, word of our antics still travels around the school.
Once, early on, Principal O’Malley called us into his office for a “friendly conversation”.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked, a picture of civility with my gentle smile and kind eyes. I was wearing a pale pink dress and I’d added soft curls to my long hair that morning. I looked as harmless as a kitten.
“Word on the street is the two of you can’t seem to get along.”
Noah and I didn’t collaborate and get our story straight beforehand, but we didn’t need to. We both knew Principal O’Malley stood no chance of brokering peace between us, but more importantly, we weren’t looking for trouble with the administration. To rat each other out would be akin to folding, forfeiting, calling time on a game neither one of us was done playing.
“Us?” Noah asked, waving his thumb back and forth between our chairs. “Us?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said with a laugh. “Noah’s like a brother to me.”
Noah bristled at this, but I don’t think Principal O’Malley noticed.
“Yeah, Audrey’s like my kid sister. Just look at her.”
He reached out and ruffled my hair, ruining my curls in the process.
I wanted to pop him in the chin, but I resisted the urge, both because it would hurt—his chin is chiseled and strong, like a superhero action figure’s—and because we were still sitting in front of Principal O’Malley.
Our boss looked at us with discerning eyes, and all the while, we smiled like psychos.
Finally, anxious to get back to his half-eaten donut and coffee, he waved us out.
“All right. Maybe it’s just silly school gossip. Go on, you two.”
We rose from our chairs at the same time and walked to the door, stride for stride. At the threshold, Noah stood back, hand swept out in a charming gesture of chivalry as he allowed me to leave first.
“What a gentleman!” I gushed, my sugary tone belying the look of hatred I was directing at Noah.
I think of that morning now, as I stand outside Principal O’Malley’s office door, waiting for him to arrive.
The school is quiet since the students aren’t due to arrive for another hour. I have plenty of time to chat with Principal O’Malley before I head to my classroom and check my email, drink my coffee, maybe do a little online shopping for my big summer trip.