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)
Her eyes turn to two round saucers as she distances herself from me. “Oh…I’m not here for that. I can’t go on that trip—my little sister is getting married in July. I’m here to talk to Principal O’Malley about switching my morning carpool duty to afternoons.”
Who invited you anyway, Sadie!?
Noah looks rather smug standing behind Principal O’Malley.
Later that morning, as I sit behind my desk in my classroom, watching my students take a quiz, I wonder how exactly I found myself in this position: going to Rome with Noah.
Pah.
Yesterday, I would have said it was unbelievable.
Today, well…
It all happened so fast. Principal O’Malley called Noah and me into his office together while Sadie waited her turn outside. He asked us if we both wanted to volunteer, and in a game of chicken, each of us looking at the other out of the corners of our eyes, waiting for the inevitable tap out, we both quickly agreed. Principal O’Malley, still skeptical of our friendship, asked if we would feel comfortable chaperoning together, and since neither one of us wanted to be the problem, we had no choice but to agree. “I would love to go to Rome with Noah” is what came out of my mouth when what I meant to say was, ANYONE BUT HIM.
Then the ball kept rolling. “We’ll get the paperwork sorted, get your flights booked, everything. Mr. and Mrs. Mann will forward over the information packet. The itinerary is set. It should be a cakewalk.”
Principal O’Malley phoned Mr. and Mrs. Mann right away.
“We have our chaperones!” he announced.
“You know it’s not too late for you to back out,” Noah said as we walked out of Principal O’Malley’s office, dismissed to our respective classrooms.
“Are you practicing what you’ll tell yourself in front of the mirror later tonight?”
“There’s no way you’re going to go through with it, so save us both the trouble, rush back in there, and say you’ve had a change of heart.”
“I’ve never seen you carry out a bluff this far.”
“I’m not backing down,” he said emphatically.
I stopped and turned, blocking his path. With my head tilted up to afford me a view straight into his eyes, I enunciated every word.
“Noah, I’m going to Rome.”
Chapter Three
The last few weeks of school are a blur of tests, projects, grades, end-of-year class parties, and preparations for Italy. All’s quiet on the Noah front, but I know better than to get comfortable. Though we cross paths in the hall and shoot silent insults across the teachers’ lounge, his absence is unnerving. I’m on edge, constantly waiting for his next round of psychological warfare.
I can only assume he’s using his time the same way I am: strategizing and preparing. After school one night, I’m perusing the self-help aisles, an area of the bookstore I don’t normally frequent. I grab a copy of 10 Ways to Deal with Difficult People, then, after skimming it and finding its advice deeply lacking, I place it back on the shelf. Noah is not your average supervillain. “Radiating kindness” and “using clear and concise communication” will not help me here. I need to know how to set trip wires with dental floss, how to whittle my lip liner down to a shank in fifteen seconds flat, how to survive on a diet of spite for twenty-one days straight.
Opting for a different approach, I try therapy.
After listening to my rant about Noah, the nice woman in khakis sighs.
“Ma’am, this is a Bed Bath & Beyond.”
“And every time he takes a sip of his coffee, he lets out a self-satisfied Ahhh. After every swallow, it’s the same. Sip—ahhh. Sip—ahhh. I swear I can hear it when I close my eyes at night.”
“We’re really not supposed to let people lie down on the display beds.”
I count down the days leading up to the trip like a soldier preparing to go to war. I kiss my loved ones goodbye. I promise to buy my dad a souvenir coffee cup. I give my neighbor my succulent to tend while I’m away and worry that she’ll forget. I’ve kept it alive for three years, I tell her, and she swears she’ll do her best.
When my Uber pulls up to the airport on the day of the trip, Noah is already waiting outside on the curb with a sturdy black suitcase and a medium-sized backpack. I immediately curse myself for overpacking.
“We’re only going for a few weeks,” he admonishes when he sees me dragging my two suitcases and overstuffed carry-on out of the trunk of the Uber. “And there’s a laundry service at the school.”
“Good afternoon, Noah. I am doing well, thank you. What a glorious day for flying!”
“I like your fanny pack.”
“It’s a money belt. For security purposes.”
“Where did you find it? Looks top of the line.”
I know exactly where I found it, but he doesn’t need to know I ordered it from the Brookstone catalog weeks ago. I actually ordered two designs that were slightly different so I could compare the features and pick the best one.