What Happens in Paris

by Jen McConnel

  For Heather; I would totally trust you with a secret like Camie’s.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  From: CamieLuvsArt222

  To: ShaunaRae671

  Subject: I love Paris!

  Dear Shauna,

  Paris is perfect. I know, I know, I only got here yesterday, but I’m seriously in love with the city. You were totally right that travel would be the best way to forget about the mess with the scholarship; the only thing that could make this trip more perfect would be if you were here with me! I’ll take lots of pictures, and when we’re back on campus in the fall, be prepared for stories! (Not that anything has really happened yet, but I’m in Paris . . . something amazing is bound to be waiting for me!)

  I’m not sure where I’ll go next; for now, I’m just soaking up the streets and culture. It feels like something out of a movie, and it’s crazy to think that this is my real life!

  Hugs,

  Camie <3

  Chapter One

  When I saw the look on my academic adviser’s face, I almost passed out.

  Every time I’d met with Miss Silvestra, she’d been bubbly enough that Elmo would have looked depressed next to her. This time, though, her lips were drawn in a thin, tight line, and her eyes looked worried.

  I gripped the edges of the ugly orange chair in her office, high above the quad, and tried to breathe.

  “Miss Johnson, what can I do for you?” Her voice was subdued, and I winced. I’d never heard her so quiet.

  This was so not going to go well.

  “I wanted to know if the scholarship extends to summer classes. I, um, wanted to get a few extra studio hours this summer.” Nervously, I fiddled with a chunk of dark-blond hair that had pushed its way past my headband.

  She sighed. “Miss Johnson, about your scholarship.”

  Miss Silvestra paused, and I felt like the world was holding its breath. Or maybe that was just me.

  She cleared her throat. “In usual circumstances, the scholarship does allow for a minimal number of summer credits. However,” she looked away and straightened a pad of sticky notes on her desk, “your circumstances are no longer usual.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean, Miss Johnson, is you have been placed on academic probation due to your grades last semester.”

  I slumped in my seat. I knew I’d almost failed English Lit, but I hadn’t realized it would affect my scholarship. “But what does that even mean?”

  “You will not receive any more funds from your scholarship until you can pull your GPA back to a 3.0.”

  “How am I going to pay for the classes, though?” I decided to try sympathy. Miss Silvestra had been working with me for two years; surely she remembered why I’d been awarded the scholarship in the first place. Artistic excellence had landed me enough money to buy my books each semester, but the fact that my mom was back in school for her bachelor’s (and the fact that she’d been the sole breadwinner for most of my life) had led to the college offering me one of the juicy full rides reserved for students with “extreme financial need.” There was no way I could pay for classes on my own.

  My adviser smiled at me sympathetically. “It’s not the end of the world. Many students have to seek federal assistance to realize their goals.”

  It took a minute for her words to sink in. “You want me to get a loan?”

  “Only until you are able to raise your GPA again. Once you’re at a 3.0, your scholarship will be reinstated.”

  I frowned. “Would I get the money back for the classes I have to take until then?”

  She paused. “Unfortunately, no. In cases of academic probation, the responsibility rests solely with the student.”

  I slumped into the hard plastic chair. “That’s not fair.”

  “I’m truly sorry, Camie. That’s simply college policy.”

  God, how was I going to tell my mom? She’d flip out. Getting loans for her degree had been hard enough for her to stomach; what would she say when she found out I needed loans, too? Mom still had the mentality that if you couldn’t pay cash for a thing, it wasn’t worth having, and it had taken a whole lot of badgering from my sister and me before she agreed that in her case, maybe a degree (and the job that hopefully waited at the end of it) was worth a few loans. No way she’d agree to me getting loans; the only reason I was in art school at all was the scholarship. Mom was sure I wouldn’t have any job when I graduated, but the free ride made her proud. “You can always work at the salon until you figure things out, and you won’t be any worse off than when you started.” She’d been saying that since I graduated from high school, and while it grated on me, she had a point. Because of my scholarship, I had been free to do what I wanted in college and put off worrying about the real world indefinitely.

  Until now.

  Suddenly, I was afraid I might burst into tears. I stood up and forced a smile. “Thanks for letting me know. I guess I’ll figure something out for this summer.”

  Miss Silvestra nodded and stood up with me. “It’s pretty easy to apply for federal assistance. There’s more information on this website.” She handed me a pamphlet and clasped my hand for a minute. Her eyes searched mine, and I could tell she wanted to say something else, so I choked back my tears and waited.

  Finally, she sighed. “The first few years of college can be challenging. Is there anything you need to talk about, Miss Johnson? Anything I might be able to help with?”

  Wordlessly, I shook my head, but she pressed on.

  “Do you need me to schedule an appointment with the tutor? Have you spoken to your English teacher to find out why you did so poorly?”

  I forced myself to nod. “I know what happened.”

  She looked relieved. “And I assume you are already making strides to fix the problem?”

  I nodded again. “Yes.” No way was I going to explain it to her, but luckily, she didn’t ask.

  Chapter Two

  When I finally escaped from the advising office, I made it out onto the quad before I started to cry. It wasn’t the mess with the scholarship that pushed me over the edge, or even the thought of trying to get loans.

  It was the raw, open wound that started oozing when Miss Silvestra asked me about the problem. God, I wondered, standing there staring up at the sun and blinking tears away like an idiot, how long would it take me to stop crying over him?

  When Jim and I had started dating in the fall, it had been perfect. He was a psych major, and his serious expression, messy hair, and hipster glasses had won my heart during an ethics-class debate. It had seemed ideal in the spring when we’d been able to sign up for another class together. Our major courses didn’t have much overlap (although he kept trying to tell me that there was art in the study of the mind), but we both needed another English course, so we signed up for Victorian Lit together.

  I thought it would be romantic, studying such great works of literature alongside my first college boyfriend. And it was, until he broke up with me before the midterm. Not, like, literal
ly before the midterm, but the weekend before when we were supposed to study together. I was waiting at the coffee shop near campus, and he called to say he wouldn’t be coming. He said he needed space, and that he thought we should see other people, and I didn’t say anything until he hung up, and then I cursed out loud and scared the baristas. I haven’t been back to the coffee shop since, and I pretty much stopped going to Victorian Lit, too.

  The professor gave me a mercy pass, based on my grades and how well I did on the final exam (which I did show up to take), but she told me sternly that I should have failed the class due to my lack of class participation. I hadn’t really cared then, but now that that pesky little grade had yanked my scholarship away, I wished I’d pleaded harder with the prof. Maybe she would have gone easier on me if she’d known why I’d suddenly started ditching the class.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t have even given me the mercy pass.

  I got my tears under control and sank down on the brick wall at the edge of the quad. The brilliant blue sky was filled with wispy clouds, and it was like the perfect spring weather was mocking me. How dare it be so beautiful when everything was going so horribly wrong?

  Feeling sorry for myself, I headed across campus to my dorm. The terms of the scholarship stipulated that I had to live on campus for the duration of my degree, and I hadn’t really minded spending the past two years in the dorms. But as I let myself into the army-green door, I felt a twist of loathing. Why did I need to stay there now that I’d lost my scholarship? Maybe I’d get an apartment by myself. It would be nice to have a little space. And a kitchen.

  My roommate, Shauna, was sprawled across the small floor, making it impossible to come into the room. Impatiently, I kicked her foot and she rolled over to wave. “You’re back early.”

  She didn’t move, so I finally dropped my backpack inside the door and climbed over her, heading for my desk chair in the farthest corner of the room. “It was just a meeting with my adviser. How long did you think it would take?”

  “I don’t know, didn’t you have to sign up for your summer classes or anything?”

  I finally made it to my chair without stepping on her, and I sat down heavily. “No.”

  Shauna stretched her arms out to the sides, her fingertips brushing my ankles. “How come?”

  “What are you doing?” I moved my foot, but she just expanded into the empty space.

  “Yoga. It’s good for you. You want to learn?”

  I looked at the floor. “There isn’t room.”

  “So come with me to the rec center. They have a free yoga class on Wednesdays.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t how much longer I’ll be here.”

  Shauna sat up, her dark-brown hair cascading in front of her tan face. Shauna claimed she had Cherokee blood somewhere in her family, but she also liked to lie out in the sun a lot, so I wasn’t sure if her coloring was natural or a prelude to skin cancer. “You aren’t taking summer classes?”

  “Nope.” For a minute, I debated lying, but Shauna wasn’t likely to tell my mom anything. She didn’t even know my mom. “No scholarship money because of my English grade.”

  Shauna popped up off the floor and encircled my shoulders in a hug before I could stop her. “Oh, Cam, I’m so sorry! That really sucks. Did you explain the whole heartbreak thing?”

  I shook my head. “What good would that do? Done is done.”

  “But what about the fall? This is just for summer, right?”

  I shook my head again. “I’m on academic probation, which means no more scholarship until I get my GPA back up.”

  She stared at me, her mouth slightly open. “That’s not good. How are you going to pay for classes?”

  “I guess I have to get a loan.”

  Shauna shuddered. “Your mom doesn’t have any money lying around?”

  I forced a laugh. “Not the last time I checked the couch cushions.”

  She sat down on the edge of my desk. “I wish we were sisters. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

  We’d only been rooming together for one school year, so Shauna’s earnest face surprised me. “It’s fine. Besides, if you were my sister, I wouldn’t put up with your shit.”

  She grinned. “That’s right. You keep telling me that sisters fight.”

  “Well, mine fights with me. Maybe you would be different.” Shauna was an only child, and her dad was on the faculty at the college. She never had to worry about money, but she didn’t flaunt it, either, which I was grateful for. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Shauna bought her designer clothes and Coach bags at the thrift store, but I doubted she’d ever set foot in a place like Goodwill. It just wouldn’t occur to her. Still, I loved living with her, and we’d really connected, so I tried to soften my response. “I bet you’d be a great sister.”

  She beamed at me and then she snapped her fingers. “Oh my gosh, I know what you need to do.”

  “Get another job?” I joked. I already worked in the dining hall, swiping student cards and wiping down tables. It paid pennies, but at least it gave me money of my own whenever Shauna wanted to go out.

  “Go backpacking!”

  I stared at her, not sure what conversation she was having. “What are you talking about?”

  “Summer’s the perfect time to go abroad, and now that you’re not taking classes, you should totally go backpacking.”

  “Shauna, I don’t exactly have any cash for a trip.”

  She laughed. “You already have to take a loan for the fall; why not just borrow a little bit more and have some fun?”

  I stared at her, skeptical. “They would let me do that?”

  “Sure, why not? As long as you don’t borrow too much, I doubt they care what you do with it.”

  It was a ridiculous idea, but I sort of liked it. “Would you come with me?”

  Her face lit up, but then she frowned. “I can’t. Remember, I’m signed up for that summer writing intensive, and I’m working at the kids’ camp again. But I could totally tell you the best places to visit; my parents and I went to Europe two summers ago as my graduation gift, and we saw everything. Oh!” She hopped off the desk and started scanning the crammed bookshelf in the corner. “I think I still have my Paris guidebook. You could totally borrow it.”

  Shauna’s enthusiasm was hard to ignore, and I found myself smiling. “You seriously think I could do this?”

  “Absolutely. It’d be, like, the best experience ever. Travel is a great way to reset and find your center, and then when you come back in the fall, it’ll be like all this mess with Jim never happened.”

  My smile slipped, but Shauna didn’t notice. “But isn’t Europe expensive?”

  “Not if you stay in hostels and stuff. Oh, Cam, you’re going to have the best time!”

  I was torn. Sure, it sounded like a great idea, but a small, rational part of my brain reminded me that spending more money to travel for no good reason wasn’t going to solve my immediate cash crisis. But then Shauna sealed the deal.

  “Think about all the great art you’d see! You could treat the trip like kind of an independent study.”

  Suddenly, visions of the loaded art museums in Paris filled my mind. I almost started to drool thinking about Vermeer and da Vinci, and Shauna recognized my glazed expression. She grabbed my hands and squealed.

  “Cam, you’re going to Europe!”

  Chapter Three

  Shauna was right; it was easy to borrow money for the trip. I went to the website Miss Silvestra had given me, and in a few hours, I’d received an e-mail listing the loan amount I was approved for for the following school year. It was way more than I needed for a semester of classes, and I finally gave in to the idea of taking the extra money and traveling around Europe. The loan said it wouldn’t be paid out until I registered for classes, so I hurried up and signed up for a handful of art courses in the fall. Luckily, because I was entering my third year, the computer system allowed me to schedule without meeting with my advise
r again; I really didn’t want to see Miss Silvestra and give her the chance to talk me out of my new plan.

  It took about a month after I signed up for classes for the check to come, but I used that time to plan the trip. It was a good thing I’d gotten a passport when I turned eighteen. At the time, I’d been fantasizing about traveling the world someday, even though I hadn’t had the first idea of where to start. I figured it was fate that I was using it now. Shauna and I spent hours on the floor, looking through her old guidebooks. It turned out she’d saved the ones for Paris, London, and Rome, but she’d seen a lot of other places, and my list was getting pretty long.

  “So I for sure know I’m going to start in Paris,” I said, tapping my pencil against my notebook, “but what next?”

  “It’s easy to get to London from Paris; there’s a train that runs under the English Channel, and it only takes like two hours.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know about London. I mean, it seems like kind of a waste to go somewhere where everyone speaks English. Where’s the adventure?”

  She laughed. “I never knew you were so adventurous, Camie!”

  I’m not, and she knows it, but something about planning this trip made me want to bust out of my comfort zone. “It’ll be good for me. Put hair on my chest and all that.”

  Shauna doubled over laughing. It was close to 2:00 a.m., and we’d killed off a bottle of wine that Shauna had sweet-talked an upper classman into buying for her, so we were more than a little giddy. Shauna was still snorting when she reached over and grabbed my list from me.

  “Give it back!”

  “Not until I add the most important stop on the trip.” She squinted in concentration and scribbled something before handing the notepad back to me with a flourish.

  I skimmed the list and flushed. “Seriously?”

  In her big, loopy cursive, Shauna had written “Get laid!” across the top of the page. “Europe is the best place for a little romance!” She waggled her eyebrows at me, and I laughed.

  “I don’t know about that. Besides, vacation sex isn’t exactly safe sex.”