Senior Class Trip
It’s about five o’clock when we arrive to meet our group for an early dinner and a nighttime bus tour of London, but my body doesn’t believe it. It has no idea what time it is. I want a nap.
Lawrence the tour guide announces we’re taking one of the big red city buses from Westminster to Covent Garden. I’ve never ridden a city bus, even in the States, so this is all new for me. I stare out the window, liking how we’re so high above the other traffic.
Coach Rice and Ms. Abella sit together at the front, which is making Ryan absolutely bonkers.
“If they’re not sharing a bed tonight, I’ll eat my hat,” Ryan says.
“What kind of hat? Like a sombrero?” Caleb asks.
“Yeah, I’ll eat a sombrero.”
These guys are never going to grow up.
I take out my tablet to quickly write down what the inside of the bus looks like. I also jot down a few notes about Westminster, the London Eye, and the Thames. If I ever write a story here, I’ll need to remember the details. As I’m working, my eyes start to feel heavy. I rest my head against Alex’s shoulder. My eyes close.
Before I know it, the bus screeches to a halt. “Lu, hurry, it’s time to go,” Alex says, helping me to my feet.
Sleepily I make my way off the bus and down the stairs to the sidewalk. I pat my purse, to make sure it’s safe. It feels lighter than usual—oh shit.
“I left my sketchpad on the bus!” I point at it as it pulls away from the curb.
Alex gasps, drops his backpack, and sprints after the bus. Traffic is heavy, so the bus is not going too fast, but it’s still too fast for Alex to get the driver’s attention.
I chase after him, running as fast as I can. He runs for two city blocks, waving his arms and screaming at the driver. He dangerously crosses diagonally across an intersection to the far side of the street. The bus finally stops, its doors open, and Alex runs aboard to get the tablet. Seconds later, he appears at the bus door and lifts the sketchpad, showing me he found it.
I wave at him from across the street. He waves back with my sketchpad.
“Thank you,” I mouth at him as cars rush by in the street.
He smiles back.
He looks to his left, then begins to step out into the street. A bus screeches its brakes. Oh shit, he didn’t look right. Cars here drive on the other side of the road. He should have looked right.
Alex didn’t look right.
* * *
The bus careens to a stop.
Alex stumbles backward onto the sidewalk. My sketchpad goes flying onto the concrete. His heel catches on the curb and he crumbles, breaking his fall with his hands. Another second and that bus would’ve killed him.
“Alex!” I scream.
I rush to him. He’s breathing heavily, eyes clenched shut, one hand carefully holding his other wrist.
“Oh no, oh no,” I cry. “Your arm. Are you okay?”
He pulls me down to the ground next to him, holding me tight. “I’m fine, we’re fine. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Is your sketchpad okay?” he asks.
I glance down at my tablet on the sidewalk. The screen looks like a spider cast a web against the black starless sky.
It’s shattered.
“Who cares?” I say with tears falling down my face. “Your arm! You have to play baseball. You have to!”
He’s cradling it against his chest. That’s the arm he catches with. He needs it to play first base. Without it, can he still play for Vanderbilt? I cry harder.
Coach Rice skids to a stop next to us. He kneels and places a gentle hand on Alex’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“My arm,” Alex replies, out of breath. “Hurts like hell.”
“Can you move your fingers for me, Rouvelis?”
Alex gingerly lifts his arm and moves his fingers.
Coach Rice sighs, taking off his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. “It’s not broken. We should still find an urgent care facility or hospital to make sure it’s okay.”
“I’m fine,” Alex says, stretching his fingers and wrist. “Get me an ice pack and some ibuprofen…and let me sit here. I need to catch my breath for a minute.”
He leans against me, breathing heavily, kissing the top of my head. I gently run fingertips over his sore wrist.
Carrying Alex’s backpack, Ryan runs up and falls to his knees. “You okay, man?”
Alex nods at his best friend. Ryan squeezes his shoulder.
Alex uses his good arm to reach back for my broken sketchpad. “Oh shit,” he mumbles as he examines the screen. “Did you back up all your work, Lu?”
I shake my head. “Not the new stuff, but it doesn’t matter.”
“We really should go to the doctor,” Coach Rice says. “Your wrist is your future. We have to take care of you.”
But Alex shakes his head. “I don’t want to miss tonight.”
“Okay,” Coach Rice says, not sounding okay at all. “We’ll ice it and give you an anti-inflammatory, but if it swells at all this evening, I’m taking you in.”
While the rest of our class continues into Covent Garden, Alex, Coach Rice, and I stop at a drug store called Boots.
Coach Rice stays outside. “I’m going to call your mother, Alex, and I need to call the principal too.”
Alex comes out of his daze long enough to say, “No matter what they say, I’m not going home early.”
Alex moves slowly beside me through the aisles. I’ve never seen him like this before. He stares at the shelves for at least a minute, like he can’t figure anything out, like he’s reading a foreign language he doesn’t know.
“Do you want me to pick everything out?” I say.
He nods, rubbing his eyes with his good hand.
I shove an ace bandage into a basket, then slam some ibuprofen down next to it. My hands shake as I pull a box of ice packs off the shelf. Dried tears streak my cheeks as I pay for everything.
I almost lost him. Fresh tears fall from my eyes.
Outside on a bench, Coach Rice is waiting for us. “I talked to your mom. Give her a call when you have a minute, okay?”
Coach Rice rips open the ace bandage and quickly wraps it around Alex’s sprained wrist. “Your arm doesn’t look too bad. I’m sure it’ll heal up in time to start weight lifting at Vanderbilt. We’ll need to stretch it and take good care of it.” The ice pack goes on next.
Alex breathes in relief. “That feels good.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “It’s all my fault.”
“It was an accident,” he mumbles. “God, this day sucks. First you tell me you’re leaving, and now this.”
Coach Rice gives me an alarmed glance. “Why don’t we head on to Covent Garden. You can find a place to sit and grab something to eat.”
Lawrence the tour guide meets us outside the entrance. He rushes up, a worried expression on his face. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Alex says, but his voice is anything but. I wrap my arm around his waist, feeling him stiffen beneath my fingers.
Ms. Abella hurries toward us as well. “Is everything all right now?”
A big smile appears on my boyfriend’s face. “It is now, Ms. Abella, and it’s all thanks to Coach Rice. He’s the best.”
Alex elbows his coach, who rolls his eyes at Alex’s matchmaking.
“Seems like you’re okay for now,” Coach Rice says.
“Yeah, we can meet up with Ryan and everybody,” Alex replies.
“Let me know if you need anything, or if you change your mind about the doctor, okay?” Coach Rice says.
“Okay. You should take Ms. Abella to get some wine,” Alex says, which makes the Italian teacher smile and shake her head, totally on to him.
“Let’s go,” Ms. Abella says to Coach Rice, and he follows her like a puppy.
Lawrence tells us about Covent Garden on the walk inside the plaza. “It’s been around for over four hundred years, and I promise you’ll enjoy it. It has great shopping and plenty of options for food.”
Covent Garden is a large enclosed glass structure held up by gorgeous stone buildings. I immediately fall in love.
I wrap my hands around Alex’s elbow on his good arm and walk in with him. Twinkling lights fill the trees. The smell of bread wafts over from a bakery. We pass an Apple store that’s completely mobbed with people. But beyond that is a square where a band is playing.
“Can we sit over there and listen to some music?” Alex asks. His eyes are tired with pain and worry. We find a bench facing the stage to sit on together. For two songs we lean against each other in silence, just listening, just being together. The band is an acoustic eighties tribute band.
“Mom and Dad would be going apeshit if they were here,” I say. “They live for eighties music.”
“Mine too,” Alex says with a small smile.
I caress the back of his neck with my hand, and lean closer. The weather is getting even chillier outside. “How does your arm feel?”
He wiggles his fingers for me. “It’s definitely not broken, but it’s bothering me a little. It hurts.”
“Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
Alex pulls a deep breath in through his nose. “I don’t think I can handle that tonight, Lu… All this stress is too much… Maybe I’m more scared than actually hurt, you know?”
“I was terrified. For a second I thought that bus was going to hit you.”
“I can’t believe it didn’t,” he exclaims, letting out a deep, shaky breath.
“I can’t believe you ran back for my sketchpad.”
“I know how much it means to you.”
“And it shattered anyway.” I let out a sob, hating that my boyfriend almost died for it. I run a fingertip along his arm. “I know how much baseball means to you. I could never forgive myself if I messed up your future.”
He leans down to kiss me. “Lu, you’re my future, not baseball.”
A tear spills down my face. “You’re my future too. I’m going to stay with you. I’m going to decline RISD.”
“You’re my future,” he says again. “But you have to go to Rhode Island. I’d never forgive myself if you stayed for me.”
“I’d never forgive myself if you gave up Vanderbilt for me…”
Alex stretches his hand again. “What if I don’t make it in baseball?”
I squeeze his knee. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Today showed me that anything can happen. One injury could screw everything up.”
“Coach says your arm will be fine.”
“Forget my arm for a minute.” His eyes glisten. “I can’t lose you, Lu.”
“I can’t lose you either. What are we going to do, though? A long-distance thing?”
“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight, Lu, but I’m up for it for you are.” More tears fall out of my eyes. “There’s always fall break and spring break and the holidays. We can figure out ways to visit each other… Maybe we could even try Skype sex.”
“Oh my God, have you been talking to Grace?” I playfully smack his thigh, and he kisses my cheek. “But what if you meet someone else? I wouldn’t want to worry about you with other girls.”
“I don’t want anybody but you,” he says. “I haven’t since you got us locked in that escape room together.”
“That was your fault, not mine!” I smile at him, and he grins back. “You never would’ve made it out of there without me.”
“I was about to say the same thing to you.” He sits up a little straighter, looking around. “What do you want to grab for dinner?”
I stand, extend a hand, and say, “Let’s go find our friends.”
* * *
Of course we find our friends at the pub.
Ryan and Grace are standing at a high-top table, laughing with Caleb and Max. Marcie is smiling up at Elia as they sit cozily next to each other on barstools. Everybody has a drink in front of them except for Max.
“Caleb cut me off before I even got a drink,” he grumbles.
“We could get Shirley Temples,” I say, making my best friend’s eyes light up.
Alex’s teammates crowd around him and examine his wrist as if it’s a precious jewel.
“Are you all right?” Grace asks Alex, biting her lip.
“I hope so,” he says quietly. His face droops, and Grace gives him a hug.
Marcie leaves her spot beside Elia and comes close to me. “Is everything okay?” she asks me quietly.
“We’re all good,” I say.
Ryan, who apparently was eavesdropping, raises his ale glass. “To Alex and Lulu being all good!”
Not only do my friends toast, but so do a bunch of other random people in the bar. Alex drapes his healthy arm around me.
Grace nudges Ryan. “Go get Alex and Lulu some drinks.”
“And some ice for my wrist,” Alex calls out.
I leave my boyfriend for a moment and walk over to my cousin. She hasn’t met my eyes once since this afternoon. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I should’ve told you first.”
“Yes, you should’ve. I’m pissed, but I’m so excited for you.”
I hug my cousin, and she squeezes me back. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“We’ll text all the time, right?”
“Always.”
Suddenly another set of arms comes around us. I glance up to find Max hugging us both. “I think what you meant to say is that we’ll group text.”
Once Ryan comes back from the bar with the drinks, Alex lifts his glass.
“To friends who buy me things,” Alex says with a laugh.
“To Alex’s arm being okay,” Grace says.
Caleb lifts his glass. “To the best boyfriend ever…who somehow is getting tipsy off a Shirley Temple.”
“Just for that, you’re sleeping on the shitty cot tonight,” Max replies.
“To our class president, who pushed the principal and school board hard for this trip to London, even though it was beyond the endowment annual budget,” Alex says, toasting me, and everyone cheers my name.
“To getting my picture taken at platform nine and three-quarters tomorrow,” Max says, hugging me.
After I won the election, Alex told me I had fought dirty to beat him. Of course I ran again on a campaign of convincing the school to get solar panels, but I also made Harry Potter–themed posters. Over the years, I spent time listening to my classmates, and that’s how I knew I needed to frame my speech around pushing for a senior trip to England so we could go to Harry Potter movie sets.
Marcie lifts her glass. “To Lulu getting a book deal and becoming famouser than Stephen King!”
“Oh,” I say. “I totally forgot to tell y’all. I got an email from my agent earlier today. An editor is interested in working with me. It’s not a book deal yet, but it could be.”
My friends erupt, yelling at me.
“How could you not tell us?”
“You’ve been sitting on this all day?”
“Lu! You should’ve mentioned it.”
Alex loops his good arm around my waist, pulling me against him. He rests his chin on my shoulder. “What does the email say?”
I take my phone out of my purse. With everything that’s happened in the past couple of hours with Alex’s arm, and enjoying being in Covent Garden with my friends, I haven’t checked my phone.
First I notice new emails from my parents and Lila, excited about my earlier email regarding Apollo’s revise and resubmit request. Mom is already planning a book release party. Dad says he told every patient who came in this afternoon. Lila demands to read any contractual material I might receive.
As I continue scrolling through my notifications, I’m surprised to see several missed calls from a 212 number. On top of that, there’s another email from Peter with the subject line NEWS!!
With shaking hands I open Peter’s email.
Dear Lulu,
After I let the other editors know we had interest, there was some scrambling on their part. We received an offer from Mina Tung at Libris. Congratulations!
Mina Tung is an executive editor, has been in the business a long time, and doesn’t need to wait for the editorial board to make an offer. Like Apollo, she particularly loves your science and worldbuilding, but she’s also a big fan of the love story between Nera and Ander.
I told Mina how old you are, and she couldn’t believe you wrote such a compelling romance at your age. She said it’s clear you understand true love. Although she’s still reeling from your ending.
The offer memo is attached. You don’t have to accept this right away. Let me go back to Libris and try to negotiate for more money. Also, I’ll let the other editors—including Val Martinez at Apollo—know we have an official offer. This may spur Apollo to change their minds about the revise and resubmit. If they don’t make an offer ASAP, they’re going to lose you to Libris or another house.
I will let Mina and Val know you’re traveling for the rest of the week, but that we’d like to set up conference calls for Monday.
Enjoy the rest of your trip. Congratulations again!
Peter
“Oh, holy shit!” I yell. Libris is one of the biggest publishers on the planet.
Alex reads the email over my shoulder. “Oh my God, babe. Open the offer memo.”
He kisses my cheek as I click on the PDF.
I lose my breath. My first thought is that it’s enough to pay for plane tickets to see Alex’s games.
That’s when Ryan shoves his head between us and reads the number. “Drinks on Lulu! She’s rich.”
I’ll never forget this moment. Not because of the book deal. Not because of the money. But because of the looks on my friends’ faces as they toast and congratulate me for years of hard work.
And I toast them for sticking with me through it all.
* * *
We climb aboard a London tour bus and choose seats on the roof.
I zip my jacket all the way up to my neck to keep out the chill, but it’s not helping. “I’m so cold,” I whine.
Alex snuggles me close.
The bus makes its way slowly through Piccadilly Circus. With its bright billboards, it’s sort of like London’s version of Times Square. Considering how much I didn’t like Times Square, I’m surprised I love Piccadilly. The loneliness I felt in Times Square is nonexistent here. Here, laughing alongside my friends, I feel like I’m a part of something bigger.
Maybe it doesn’t matter where you are—maybe it’s who you’re with.
“Let’s make a pact we’ll all meet up on May seventh next year,” Alex says.
“But what if we have finals?” Grace asks.
“Or we’re on different schedules?” Marcie adds.
“What if you have a ball game?” Max asks.
“Then we’ll figure out what’s the first day we’re all home, and we’ll get together,” Ryan says.
When I was younger, I wondered if happily-ever-afters were realistic. Were they a myth? I still don’t know the truth. Someone could get hurt anytime, anywhere. A friend could choose a different path. A lover could leave. Family can change their minds.
There’s only one thing I know for sure.
I gaze around at my laughing friends, smiling under the bright lights of London.
No matter what, we’ll find our way back.