“And such a place! Ah, Roma,” Mom sighed.
“What happened in Roma?” Marianne asked eagerly as Mom got this dazed look on her face.
“Oh, you know.” She picked up her glass, swirled its contents and slowly leaned back in her chair as though she were Gandalf about to tell the hobbits of her great adventure. “I met Alberto there.”
“Mom,” I groaned, looking at her pleadingly. “Please don’t say anything too weird.”
“He was a handsome poet and he played a ukulele,” she sighed, causing Marianne to giggle and me to put my head in my hands. “I became his muse.”
“Oh, Rebecca, how wonderful!” Helena swooned.
Connor and my dad shared a glance and looked distinctly awkward. I slid further down in my chair and became very focused on my glass of water.
“Such a shame that you can’t go, Connor,” Mom said, tilting her head sympathetically. “It really is a very romantic city. You and Anna could have shared some moments under the stars and—”
I choked on the ice in my drink and began to splutter. Marianne knocked me on the back.
“Thanks,” I wheezed before turning to give Mom a pointed look. “Anyway, enough about Rome. Let’s talk about Connor’s comic book.”
“So you’re going to be working on it for the whole summer?” Marianne asked.
“Looks like it.” He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s sad to miss out on stuff like Rome, but I have to get on with it. And”—he turned to smile at me—“I can spend time with Anna when she gets back.”
“I’m sure she’ll have plenty of adventures to tell you about!” Helena said. “Plenty of fun and getting into trouble!”
“No, no,” I replied in my most sophisticated and grown-up voice. “I will be following all the rules and lying low, drawing no attention to myself whatsoever. The itinerary looks fascinating.”
“Ow!” I looked accusingly at Marianne, who had for some reason just kicked me in the ankle.
Helena raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I hope you’re not intending on following all the rules.”
“Actually, Helena, I think Anna should absolutely do so,” Dad said sternly, prompting Mom to snort and Helena to shake her head at him in disappointment.
“Well, if you’re going to insist on following rules,” Helena said authoritatively, rolling up the sleeves of her kimono, “let them at least be good ones.”
* * *
Helena Montaine’s top five rules for making the most of a new city:
1. Don’t be afraid to say “yes” to new things, such as local delicacies and traditions.
“I don’t think I’d have had half as much fun on that film set in Dubai if I’d said no to riding that ridiculous creature, the camel. At first I didn’t have the slightest interest, but I very much bonded with Ibil in the end. When he stopped spitting, of course.”
2. Speak to the locals.
“This is an absolute necessity when visiting a new place because they will be able to point you in the direction of the cleanest lavatory facilities in the area. Indispensable knowledge.”
3. Make sure that you visit at least one historic landmark early on in the trip so you can get a photo of yourself next to it.
“Then if you just happen to wander into a luxurious spa and end up staying there for a few days, no one can accuse you of missing out on the terribly important culture of wherever you are because you have photographic evidence.”
4. Be sure to learn at least one essential phrase that you will be using often in the local language of where you are vacationing.
“For Italy I recommend attenzione con la mia casella di cappello, which means ‘careful with my hat box.’ ”
5. Make your own rules.
“It is YOUR vacation and you are making YOUR memories. Make sure they are good ones. And by that I mean fun ones.”
I laughed nervously as I think I caught Connor frowning slightly at that last one.
“Helena’s right,” my mom insisted. “This is Anna’s first big adventure. She should make the most of it.”
“Speaking of adventures,” Marianne began, “I actually have my own adventure to tell you about. I’m moving.” She beamed. “Tom and I have decided to move in together.”
I sat in shock. Marianne hadn’t mentioned anything about this to me—I didn’t even realize they’d talked about things like that. Judging by the expression on Helena’s face, she hadn’t mentioned it to her mother either.
“I know it’s quite fast, but we’re totally committed and we’ve talked it through extensively. We’re both really excited and now seems like a good time. He’ll be on tour for the next couple of months so I’m going to be looking for the perfect place and then when he gets back we’ll move in.”
“Well.” Mom smiled, taking charge as Helena looked completely shocked. “Congratulations, Marianne, that’s very exciting.”
“Yes,” Helena agreed, pulling herself together. “It does all seem quite fast but then I’m one to talk. You have to do what makes you happy.” She turned to Dad, who smiled back at her in a goofy way, reaching over to link his fingers with hers before kissing her hand.
I mean, I know it’s cute that they’re so in love and blah, blah, blah, but do they need to do this kind of thing in front of ME?
I couldn’t even look at Connor at this point. But he reached over and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I blushed and looked at my feet.
“Tom makes me happy. The happiest ever,” Marianne gushed, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Well then”—Helena raised her glass—“how exciting. Congratulations, Marianne.”
“My goodness, what a summer!” My mom laughed. “Here’s to the wedding, Connor’s comic book, Marianne’s new place, and Anna’s Roman adventure!”
As everyone stretched over to clink glasses, Marianne leaned gently toward me so that our shoulders were touching.
“And,” she whispered in my ear, “here’s to making your own rules.”
5.
THE WHOLE OF THE NEXT morning I tried to act like it was just a normal day in front of Dog. He sat next to me while I brushed my teeth as he always did, and I could see him eyeing me suspiciously as I put my toothbrush in a travel bag and not into its normal mug. Then I saw him look mildly puzzled as I went around the house picking up everyday items such as my phone charger and my shampoo and taking them upstairs to my room, then shutting the door.
“Anna!” my dad yelled up the stairs. “You’re going to be late! Rebecca, Helena, and Marianne will be here any minute. We’ve got to get everything packed up and ready!”
“What’s Dog doing?” I shouted back through my door.
“What?”
“I said, what is Dog doing?” I carefully opened my door so I could peer out through the crack.
“I don’t know, Anna,” Dad said, exasperated. “I think he’s chewing on the Monopoly board in the sitting room. I’ve told you not to leave board games within his reach. Don’t you remember the incident with Chutes and Ladders?”
“So, he’s distracted?”
“Yes. He’s not passed Go yet.” Dad laughed VERY loudly at his own joke.
“Dad, I’m being serious! I need to know the coast is clear for me to bring my suitcase down.”
“For goodness’ sake, Anna, just bring it down. Do you want me to come and help you with it?”
“No! No, stay downstairs. If you come up here, he might know something is up. Act as normal as possible. Grab some paper and moan about deadlines or say something boring about the war like normal.” I heard Dad mumble something about ungrateful teenagers as I opened my door wide enough for me to squeeze through with my suitcase. “Is the front door open?”
“Yes.”
“Is the trunk open?”
“Yes!”
“Okay, well, make sure you leave my pathway clear. I’m going to run down with the suitcase and quickly out the door, before throwing it in the trunk without Dog seeing a thing. If
Dog approaches, you need to alert me and I’ll run back up and hide the suitcase.”
“Alert you?”
“Yes. Secret code. Do a squawk or something.”
“A squawk? Anna, what are you talking about?”
I sighed at how slow he was being when we were already pressed for time. “That’s code for ‘Dog is on the move.’ ”
“Or I could just say, Dog is on the move. You know, because he’s a dog and he doesn’t understand human speak?” Dad huffed.
“Yeah, that’s what you think. I know better. Is the coast clear? Maybe I should hunt out my walkie-talkies. They might be helpful.”
“Anna, just come down the stairs and put your suitcase in the car before I lose my temper.”
“FINE. But if Dog sees the suitcase and goes crazy because he knows that I’m leaving him, you can’t blame ME for anything that gets broken when he punishes me.”
“Anna—”
I quietly tiptoed out of my room with my suitcase in tow and began a very slow, careful descent down the stairs with Dad standing at the bottom watching me, his arms crossed. The suitcase was much heavier than I was expecting even though I’d already had to cut down half of what I wanted to bring due to weight restrictions. I could barely lift it up from the floor, so I kind of slid down each step with my back against the wall, straining every muscle so that the case didn’t touch the ground and make a noise.
“What on earth are you doing? Why are you walking down the stairs like a crab?”
“I am walking down the stairs stealthily,” I hissed back. “Keep your voice down. The slightest out-of-place noise will send Dog investigating and then he will see me with the suitcase and go into a FRENZY. Honestly, Dad, you are so unsubtle. You could never be a spy.”
But just then my arms failed me and the suitcase dropped from my hands, landing with a loud thunk on the stairs and then clonking down every last step before landing at Dad’s feet.
Dad and I froze.
We waited for the sound of Dog barging out of the sitting room. No footsteps came and I breathed a sigh of relief and motioned for Dad to quickly pick up the case and take it out through the door. I helped him get it into the trunk, ignoring his grumbling about how I must have packed the kitchen sink and, for goodness’ sake, did I really need enough outfits to last me a year? In his day you would go for weeks with just a shirt on your back.
I didn’t think it was the right moment to remind him that things had moved on since Biblical times.
As we both turned back to the house, I gasped and stopped still. Dog was sitting on the front step watching us.
We were busted.
He must have seen the whole thing. “Dog,” I began in my most soothing voice, “it’s not what it seems. I’m just going away for two weeks, but I’m not leaving you and I’ll be right back in no time. Dad’s going to make sure he gives you extra snacks every day to make up for the inconvenience.” Dad snorted next to me so I punched him on the arm. “Now, why don’t we just go back inside, sit down, and talk this through like adults.”
I saw Dog’s eye twitch.
In a flash he was up on his paws, springing back into the house and flying up the stairs at full pelt. “NO, DOG, COME BACK!” I yelled, bolting after him into the house and seeing the tip of his tail sailing into my bedroom. I rushed up the stairs and skidded to a halt in the doorway. Dog was standing on my bed facing me and in his mouth he was holding my phone.
“Dog,” I said slowly and calmly. “Let’s not do anything rash. We don’t want to do something we regret, do we?”
His tail swished slowly from side to side.
“Give me my phone, Dog,” I said gently, taking a step forward. He took a step back and shook his head in warning. Dad joined me in the doorway and let out a loud sigh when he saw us both in the position of a highly charged standoff. “Dad, this is your fault.”
“My fault?”
“I told you that we’d been watching too many John Wayne movies. It was bound to rub off on him.”
“Enough of this nonsense,” Dad said, nudging me aside and striding forward confidently toward our Labrador. “Dog, drop!”
Knowing he had the upper hand, Dog waited until my dad was close enough and then he leaped down from the bed, dodging him and zooming past me back downstairs. Dad and I chased after him into the kitchen, stumbling to a sudden stop as we saw Dog dangling my phone over his water bowl from his drooly jaws.
“Hellooooo!” Helena cheerily sauntered into the house with Marianne and Mom in tow. “Anyone in?”
They came into the kitchen and saw Dad and me both standing like statues, watching Dog. “Oh dear.” Mom bit her lip. “Did he see the suitcase?”
“Don’t encourage Anna, Rebecca. The two things aren’t linked.”
“Of course they are, Nicholas.” Mom sighed. “It’s so like you to dismiss something so obvious.”
“Dog, it’s just two weeks.” I knelt down on my hands and knees to attempt a different approach, hoping he might back down if I wasn’t towering over him. “I promise I’m coming back. I’m just going to Rome.”
On the word “Rome” there was a big splash as Dog released my phone from his jaw and it plopped perfectly into the middle of his water bowl. I closed my eyes in horror and Dog trotted past me with his head held high to go sulk in the sitting room. Soon enough I heard him chewing away on the Monopoly board just to hammer home how he felt about this situation.
“Oh, Anna, your phone!” Mom cried, quickly rescuing it and grabbing a towel, desperately trying to dab it dry.
“You need to put it in a pack of rice,” Marianne instructed, going immediately to the cupboards to find one.
“That dog,” Dad sighed as I clambered to my feet.
“Don’t blame Dog,” I said huffily. “It’s my fault for not being honest with him. Anyway, it’s about time I got a new phone—that one you got me is ancient.”
“Let’s discuss it in the car.” Dad threw up his hands in exasperation. “Now, everybody in.”
I let them all pile into the car and Dad stood tapping his foot, impatiently waiting to lock up as I sat cross-legged next to Dog, who was even sulkier now that Dad had taken away the Monopoly board and put absolutely anything of value out of his reach. All he had to distract him from his sorrows was a gross old tennis ball. I gave him a big cuddle and I think he must have forgiven me because he gave me a lick and a loving headbutt.
* * *
As soon as we had come through the airport doors and turned the corner to the check-in desk, we were hit by a barrage of shouting and paparazzi camera flashes.
At first I was shocked that they could possibly know which desk to wait for us at, but then I saw that our teacher, Mrs. Ginnwell, was standing there holding a big sign that said WOODFIELD CHECK-IN POINT.
Helena, a paparazzi professional, immediately took it in her stride, guiding me toward Mrs. Ginnwell and smiling angelically at the cameras as she swanned past in her wide-brimmed sun hat and billowing summer dress. Marianne clacked along in her heels next to her mom, wearing sunglasses that dwarfed her face, tiny denim shorts, and a crisp white shirt, her arms and hands dripping in jewelry. I wish I could look so effortless in front of the national press but, you know, doing something as casual as checking in your luggage becomes much more difficult when you’ve got a hundred flashbulbs going off in your face and people shouting questions at you.
“Anna, who are you wearing?” (Actually, funny story—this T-shirt was originally a dress but Dog ate half of it to punish me when I turned the TV off halfway through Homeward Bound.) “Helena, any wedding dilemmas?” (Yes, excellent question. Big dilemma, in fact: She is dressing her daughter and her stepdaughter up as giant purple hippos.) “Marianne, is it true that you and Tom Kyzer are on the rocks?” (Well, you obviously don’t have the whole moving-in-together scoop). “Anna, are you worried about causing chaos abroad after your recent disaster at the London Comic Con event?”
I froze.
All cameras suddenly pointed away from the rest of my family and focused entirely on me.
“I . . . I . . .”
Suddenly Dad’s arm was around my shoulders, leading me away from the check-in desk and toward the security line for departures. “Here’s your passport,” he said, placing it in my hand. “What have I told you about the paparazzi? Ignore them.”
“But they were asking about Connor!” I felt horrible thinking about how Connor would react to being dragged into the latest news story when he wasn’t even here this time.
“They’re trying to push your buttons—you know that. Don’t let them.” He gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze as I nodded.
When we got to the line, the press still swarming around us taking photos, Helena produced a thin box from her oversized handbag that she was now holding out for me.
“A parting gift,” she said, smiling. “Just a little something.”
“Thanks, Helena!” I took it from her nervously as a hush descended on our audience and rippling whispers of, “What’s in the box?” and “Make sure you get the shot!”
I undid the ribbon, aware of several lenses focusing on my hands and wishing I had practiced an I-love-this-gift expression. I opened the box and peered at the contents. “Wow! Great! Is it a fan? That’s . . . handy.”
“Let me,” said Helena, and, with a dramatic flourish, she lifted the fan and sharply released it, a cloud of glitter bursting from it into the air and raining down on us.
The crowd gasped and then burst into applause as Helena bowed her head to the flashbulbs in acknowledgement, fanning herself elegantly with my gift and showing me exactly how it’s done. Marianne may have been wearing her sunglasses but I could feel her rolling her eyes behind them.
The It Girl in Rome Page 3
