Instead, I'm stuck with ninety-nine other students. There are twenty-five people in my entire senior class, as opposed to the six hundred I had back in Atlanta. And I'm studying the same things I studied at Clairemont High except now I'm registered in beginning French.
Oh, yeah. Beginning French. No doubt with the freshmen. I total y rock.
Mom says I need to lose the bitter factor, pronto, but she's not the one leaving behind her fabulous best friend, Bridgette. Or her fabulous job at the Royal Midtown 14 multiplex. Or Toph, the fabulous boy at the Royal Midtown 14 multiplex.
And I stil can't believe she's separating me from my brother, Sean, who is only seven and way too young to be left home alone after school. Without me, he'l probably be kidnapped by that creepy guy down the road who has dirty Coca-Cola towels hanging in his windows. Or Seany will accidental y eat something containing Red Dye #40 and his throat will swel up and no one will be there to drive him to the hospital. He might even die. And I bet they wouldn't let me fly home for his funeral and I'd have to visit the cemetery alone next year and Dad will have picked out some god-awful granite cherub to go over his grave.
And I hope Dad doesn't expect me to fil out col ege applications to Russia or Romania now. My dream is to study film theory in California. I want to be our nation's greatest female film critic. Someday I'l be invited to every festival, and I'l have a major newspaper column and a cool television show and a ridiculously popular website. So far I only have the website, and it's not so popular.Yet.
I just need a little more time to work on it, that's all. "Anna, it's time."
"What?" I glance up from folding my shirts into perfect squares.
Mom stares at me and twiddles the turtle charm on her necklace. My father, bedecked in a peach polo shirt and white boating shoes, is gazing out my dormitory window. It's late, but across the street a woman belts out something operatic.
My parents need to return to their hotel rooms. They both have early morning flights.
"Oh." I grip the shirt in my hands a little tighter.
Dad steps away from the window, and I'm alarmed to discover his eyes are wet. Something about the idea of my father—even if it is my father—on the brink of tears raises a lump in my throat.
"Wel , kiddo. Guess you're all grown up now."
My body is frozen. He pul s my stiff limbs into a bear hug. His grip is frightening. "Take care of yourself. Study hard and make some friends. And watch out for pickpockets," he adds. "Sometimes they work in pairs."
I nod into his shoulder, and he releases me. And then he's gone.
My mother lingers behind. "You'l have a wonderful year here," she says. "I just know it." I bite my lip to keep it from quivering, and she sweeps me into her arms. I try to breathe. Inhale. Count to three. Exhale. Her skin smel s like grapefruit body lotion. "I'l cal you the moment I get home," she says.
Home. Atlanta isn't my home anymore.
"I love you, Anna."
I'm crying now. "I love you, too. Take care of Seany for me."
"Of course."
"And Captain Jack," I say. "Make sure Sean feeds him and changes his bedding and fil s his water bottle. And make sure he doesn't give him too many treats because they make him fat and then he can't get out of his igloo. But make sure he gives him at least a few every day, because he stil needs the vitamin C and he won't drink the water when I use those vitamin drops—"
She pul s back and tucks my bleached stripe behind my ear. "I love you," she says again.
And then my mother does something that, even after all of the paperwork and plane tickets and presentations, I don't see coming. Something that would've happened in a year anyway, once I left for col ege, but that no matter how many days or months or years I've yearned for it, I am stil not prepared for when it actual y happens.
My mother leaves. I am alone.
I feel it coming, but I can't stop it.
PANIC.
They left me. My parents actual y left me! IN FRANCE!