probably causes at least three heart attacks in the reading room, and I hear one of the old guys in the soft chairs give a startled “Hoozit?”
Clapping my hand over my mouth, I look at Dad, but he’s laughing silently, his shoulders shaking as he wipes at his eyes with one hand.
“I’m guessing you got it, then?” he asks when he’s done cracking up, and I look back at the paper, rereading carefully, hoping I didn’t misread it because I wanted it so badly. But nope, there it is in black and white.
Full ride, room and board, everything covered.
I’m going to Scotland.
Oh.
I’m going to Scotland.
OOOOOOH Y’AAAAALLLLL!!
I have some INTERESTING NEWS TO REPORT! Okay, so you know how Prince Seb went to that Fancy But Totally Terrifying Boarding School in the Highlands? One of those places where your roommate is probably a sheep and you have to get up at 4 a.m. every day? WELL.
It looks like Seb is DONE WITH THAT. St. Edmund’s Academy in Edinburgh just announced that Seb is doing his last year of school with them, and APPARENTLY the tea is that Queen Clara wants Seb muuuuuuch closer to home, what with the Big Wedding Kicking Off in December. You angels remember what happened last summer, right? With Boring Prince Alex becoming UNBORING for a hot minute, and knocking Seb into the dirt? Appears THAT little drama got Seb sentenced to Life Under Mum’s Nose.
So sorry, all you Highland Lassies who get to go to Gregorstoun this year and were hoping to lay eyes on Seb the Dreamboat/Hot Mess! At least you’ll have pretty views to look at? And sheep? Honestly, a sheep would probably make a better boyfriend than that dude, let’s be real.
(“Dreams! Crushed!!” from Crown Town)
CHAPTER 6
“Will you have to wear plaid all the time?”
Lee sits on the end of my bed, hands clasped between his knees as he watches me pull things out of my closet. It’s mid-August, which means it’s very hard to imagine a time when I’ll need heavy coats, but the weather app on my phone tells me that if I were in Scotland right now, I’d want to be wrapped in wool. Besides, I won’t be back home until December, so my heaviest winter coat gets tossed on the bed with the rest of the things I’m packing.
“The uniforms are plaid,” I tell Lee. “But a dark plaid, so it’s not so bad.”
Lee attempts a smile, but his eyes keep returning to my suitcase.
Walking over, I put a hand on his shoulder. “The internet exists,” I remind him. “Email, FaceTime, Facebook, probably some other face-based technology they’ll invent while I’m over there . . .”
That gets a genuine smile out of him at least, and he runs a hand over his hair. “Face Plate,” he suggests. “Faces showing up in your plates so you can eat dinner together.”
Giggling, I throw another pair of socks in my bag. “Gross. I don’t want to eat off your face.”
Lee smirks. “Then I guess you don’t even want me to get into Toilet Time, because that’s where technology will really take off.”
“Why am I friends with a boy?” I muse to my poster of Finnigan Sparks, tapping my fingers against his space helmet.
“Because you love me,” Lee replies, and I heave a sigh.
“Sadly, I do.”
Lee is not doing great with the whole Me in Scotland Thing, but he’s definitely trying at least, hence the moral support while I pack. Gregorstoun’s first day is later than Pecos High’s, so he’s already back in school, while I have a week before I’ll start my senior year.
It’s a weird thought, graduating somewhere else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about finishing my high school experience in another country, but it still felt bizarre, looking at everyone’s First Day of School pics on social media last week.
“Have you talked to Darcy?” he asks, and I turn away, shrugging.
“A little.”
That wasn’t really true. She’d finally responded to my text with a HEY GIRL! Sorry, been CRAZY BUSY! but that was about it. True, she and I have never been as close as me and Lee (or me and Jude, or Darcy and Jude), but it still stung, and I can’t escape the feeling that she might be a little happy to have been right. I’ve seen more pics of her and Jude hanging out on Instagram and Snapchat over the past two weeks than I have in over a year.
Now that Jude and I aren’t friends—or