Awkward Abroad (Awkward #2) Read online

  I’m packing up after school, dreaming of a good movie – even if it does have subtitles – and a hot bath, when Mandy bursts into my classroom, Kate right behind her.

  “Amber, do you know what rhymes with Friday?”

  “Duvet?”

  “No.” She lifts her hands theatrically. “Champagne.”

  “That doesn’t rhyme at all.” I stack the last of the chairs so the cleaners won’t bitch and moan – a lesson I learned after last weekend, and catch Kate’s eye. She winks. “I’m beat,” I tell Mandy half-heartedly.

  “Shake your ass, we’re going to my place,” she says as if I haven’t spoken.

  “Is it worth arguing?” I ask Kate.

  “Not even a little bit,” she replies.

  “You live here?” I can’t keep the disbelief from my voice as I gaze up at the palatial apartment block.

  “I do. And don’t look at me like that, Miss Thang. From what you’ve told us about your life back in the States, you should feel right at home.” Mandy breezes saunters inside. and we follow her into an exquisite foyer, complete with gleaming marble floors and fresh flowers on every surface.

  The elevator hisses open, and Mandy jabs the button for the 15th floor. The top floor.

  “You live in the penthouse?” I’m still slack-jawed, and Kate stifles a giggle. “What are you not telling me?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Mandy replies, non-committal.

  My entire apartment could fit into Mandy’s cream and gold living room. The west wall is comprised of enormous concertina glass doors which open onto a wide balcony. I catch a glimpse of a hot tub – a hot tub! – and two pool loungers, but before I can look any further, we’ve passed into the kitchen. It’s monochrome heaven – stark black and white broken only by the sleek silver of top-end appliances. Black lamp shades hang above the vast white Caesarstone island in the center. I rotate on the spot, taking it all in, and then I round on Mandy, who is rummaging in the fridge.

  “Is there something you want to tell me, Mandy?” I ask, and then when she glances over her shoulder to look at me, “the name of your sugar daddy, perhaps?”

  “Actually, I’m just a responsible adult who manages her finances well.” She grins before turning back to the contents of the fridge. She retrieves a chilled bottle of champagne and starts to open it. Kate has already fetched three glasses from a cupboard on the opposite side of the island.

  The cork pops, missing my head by less than an inch.

  “You’re seriously not going to explain all of this?” I ask, raising a brow.

  She only hands me a glass and wags her finger at me. “Drink up.”

  “A toast,” Kate says, “to Friday.”

  “Which rhymes with champagne,” I add, and we clink glasses. I take a long sip and then give a sigh of pleasure. “Man, that tastes good.”

  Kate, I notice, has downed half her glass in a single swig.

  “Rough week, Kate?” I ask

  She shakes her head, wiping champagne from the corners of her mouth. “I just really enjoy champagne. Especially the expensive kind.”

  “You can see why we became friends,” Mandy says.

  To my delight, we head for the balcony. Mandy and I sink onto the loungers, while Kate takes a seat on the edge of the hot tub, her feet in the water.

  “It’s like a free massage,” she explains, moving her foot over the jets.

  “I’m never leaving this spot,” I tell them, closing my eyes and feeling the late afternoon sun on my face.

  Mandy tops up my glass. “Don’t you dare fall asleep. I’m not carrying you back inside.”

  “When does Tim arrive?” I ask Kate.

  “Next Friday.” Her voice is honey and light. It’s the same voice she always uses when she talks about Tim.

  “How long is he here for?”

  “Only a week. He can’t get any more time off work.”

  You must be so excited.”

  “I am. And I can’t wait for you guys to meet him.”

  “Never ever have I ever met Kate’s fiancé,” Mandy drawls. Kate tips her glass and drinks.

  “You know that game?” I adore it. Lara and I used to play it all the time.

  “Never ever have I ever played never ever have I ever,” Mandy says in response, and we all drink.

  When the sky darkens and the night air begins to chill, we move inside. Mandy sits on the floor, on a soft cream rug, while Kate and I take opposite ends of the sofa.

  “Never have I ever been caught doing it by my parents,” Mandy says. We both take a sip of our champagne, but Kate remains still.

  “Seriously, Kate? Your parents must be blinded by that halo floating above your head,” I say.

  “Never ever have I sexted,” Mandy prompts, giving Kate a knowing grin. When she raises her glass, Mandy laughs and offers her the bottle. “You may as well drink it all.”

  Kate takes it. “Well, I am in a long-distance relationship.”

  When I discover that Mandy has Netflix, I call the game to a halt.

  “No subtitles!” I shriek, bouncing on the couch like a schoolgirl.

  “You don’t have Netflix?” They’re both horrified.

  “Cut off, remember?” I say, making scissor movements with my free hand.

  “You can log into my account,” Mandy offers. I give her my phone, and she sets it up. Seeing the familiar icon on my screen brings me insurmountable joy. I’m still staring at it when a text comes through from Kent. How’s employed life? You hanging in there?

  I squint at the screen through champagne goggles and send a reply: Better than hanging in, I’ve even made friends.

  “I need a selfie,” I announce. “Mandy, get up here.”

  She grumbles but gets off the floor to join us on the couch.

  “Who are you sending it to?” she asks, once I’ve snapped six photos - three were blurred, and Kate had her eyes closed in two.

  “Kent,” I say automatically, forwarding the photo. I can see that he’s typing, so I stare at the screen, oblivious to the fact that they’ve fallen silent.

  That looks like trouble with a capital T ;)

  I’m so stunned he’s used the wink emoji that I drop my phone to find Mandy and Kate staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Who,” Mandy begins.

  “Is,” Kate adds.

  “Kent?” Combined, their voices are amplified.

  “Did you guys plan that?”

  My phone pings again, but before I can reach for it, Mandy snatches it up.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun,” she reads aloud. Her fingers tap the screen in rapid succession, and then she zooms in. “Holy shit! Who is he?” she swings the phone around so the screen is in my face. Kent’s profile picture fills my vision. It’s a good picture. He’s even almost smiling.

  “Kent,” I say, confusion setting in. Surely I’ve told them about Kent?

  Kate leans into my shoulder to get a better look. “Woah!”

  I groan. It’s easy to forget how attractive women find the bastard.

  “If this is what California men look like, I’m booking the next flight out,” Mandy says.

  “Stop it,” I snap, grabbing my phone. “Trust me when I say, it’d be a waste of money. Although,” I add, giving Mandy a wry look, “apparently you can afford it.”

  “Nice try,” she says, reaching for the open bottle on the table and pausing the movie. “But I’m not pressing tit until you spill the beans.”

  “Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. He’s an old friend. A very old friend. As in, we used to swim naked in the pool together old.”

  “Kinky bitch.”

  “Very funny. But seriously, you guys, it’s not like that. So, can we please get back to the lovely, no subtitles, movie?”

  “He sent you a wink emoji,” Mandy says as if that settles the matter.

  I frown. That was weird. Kent doesn’t use emojis, certainly not with me, anyway. I pick up my
phone to check. It’s definitely a wink. Still, I scroll up to show them our entire thread, which is a few short lines.

  “See?” I say. “It’s nothing.”

  Mandy actually puts her finger to my screen, as if calling my bluff, to see if there’s more. When she discovers there’s not, her face falls.

  “What a waste.”

  “Not really. He’s nice to look at, but he’s a pain in the ass. You wouldn’t like him.”

  “Methinks the girl doth protest too much,” Kate says, and then lets out a spectacular burp.

  9

  I wake with a crick in my neck and a Kate-sized hot water bottle curled into my back. I blink a few times, testing my head, but I feel fine. After two bottles of champagne, Mandy had made a pot of coffee, and we’d stayed up later than we should have, but all in all, it really was just an innocent girls’ night in. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Lara would rather have been burned at the stake than admit to spending an evening at home. My lips curve upward as a rare sense of pride rises in my chest.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re a morning person.” Mandy hands me an enormous mug, steaming caffeine fumes. “The sun’s barely up, and you look far too happy for my liking.”

  “You’re up,” I point out, carefully extracting myself from Kate, who is snoring softly.

  “I forgot to close my curtains,” she says, “the sun almost singed my eyelids.”

  Not even the heavenly smell of coffee can rouse Kate. “Should we wake her?” I ask, jabbing her with my toe when the snoring stops, to see if she’s still breathing.

  Mandy grins. “I have a better idea.”

  Kate wakes as we’re applying the finishing touches to her face.

  “You are both assholes,” Kate groans five minutes later as she surveys the damage in the bathroom mirror. “And how do you even own a lipstick that red?” she demands.

  “That wasn’t mine,” Mandy admits. “That was all Amber.”

  Kate wipes futilely at her clown-painted face.

  “It’s a stay-on,” I manage, through peals of laughter. “Twenty-four hours of Moulin Rouge, or your money back. But look on the bright side. By this time tomorrow, you’ll be fine.”

  “I am not leaving this apartment until it’s off!”

  Mandy catches my eye and shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to watch a shit-ton of non-subtitled movies.”

  I get home in the early afternoon. It turns out even expensive stay-on lipstick is no match for MAC Pro make-up remover, so Kate left at the same time. Mandy has plans for this evening, though she refused to tell us what they were, or, more importantly, with whom.

  After a quick shower, during which I lament the fact that I keep bumping my elbows on the tiled wall while washing my hair, especially after the luxury of Mandy’s double-wide, I settle on the sofa in a t-shirt and shorts, with a towel wrapped around my wet hair, and a cucumber sandwich which, thanks to Kate, is my new favorite thing.

  I’ve just taken a bite when my phone beeps.

  I hope your evening ended well?

  The sandwich loses all appeal. It’s not hard to read between the lines. Kent wants to know if I got out of hand last night. I reply with another selfie we’d taken shortly before bed, coffee cups on clear display, and the caption: Wild Night. Now that I look at it, I notice Kate’s eyes are closed again.

  No getting lost, then?

  I don’t dignify that with a response, and his next text comes through a few seconds later.

  I’m flying in on Tuesday. Dinner Wednesday night?

  I’ll have to check my schedule. Oh, screw it. Who am I trying to fool? You better be paying.

  Saber can pay ;) That damn emoji again! I’ll pick you up at 7.

  I reply with a champagne emoji, just to piss him off, but he doesn’t check his phone again.

  On Monday morning, I find Mandy in the staff room with the biggest pair of sunglasses I have ever seen perched on her face. She’s clutching a steaming mug of coffee as if her life depends on it.

  “Rough night?” I ask primly as if I haven’t been in her situation a thousand times before.

  “I feel like I’ve been hit by a 10-tonne truck. Please tell me I at least look a little better than I feel?”

  “All I can see are those glasses. Are those Prada?” I add, catching sight of the familiar logo. “Honestly, girl, you have got to let me in on whatever, or whoever, it is you’re up to. Or at least introduce me to his brother.”

  Kate breezes in, a veritable ray of sunshine. “Morning! Ooh, I like your dress, Amber.”

  “Thanks.” I smooth down the bright floral skirt. “I had a productive afternoon yesterday. I found an absolute gem of a market, only a few blocks down from my apartment.” I’d been thrilled to discover it was cheap as chips, too, but I don’t mention that.

  “It hurts my eyes,” Mandy groans, but she reaches out and rubs the fabric between her fingers. “Very pretty, though. Your legs look fantastic.”

  Kate frowns, noticing Mandy’s glasses. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m dying.”

  “We have a fire drill in twenty minutes,” Kate warns. “I heard Bianca telling maintenance on my way over here.”

  “This is going to be the longest day ever. I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. I don’t know how much longer I can carry on doing this without keeling over.”

  “Doing what?” I ask, pouncing on her moment of weakness.

  She feigns ignorance, but not before I catch the flash of guilt on her face. “Just balancing my busy social life and this lousy paying job.”

  I open my mouth to tell her she needs to spend a few nights at home, catching up on sleep, realize it’s exactly what Kent would say, and shut it.

  “I hope the kids take it easy on you today,” I say instead.

  “I’d never get that lucky,” she moans. “If I go missing, don’t forget to check under my desk in case I’ve passed out underneath it.”

  The children are impossible after the fire drill. In an effort to calm them down, I read a storybook – Three Billy Goats Gruff, and then I allocate them an independent task, to write their own fairy tale, my only requirement that it be at least a full page long. That should keep them quiet for at least half an hour. I sit at my desk, surreptitiously watching Wei. To my surprise, he barely lifts his head from the page, his face close to the paper, tongue sticking out between his teeth in concentration.

  I collect every paper before the lunch bell rings and, on impulse, shove them into my bag before dismissing the children.

  To my surprise, Kate is alone at our usual table.

  “Where is she?” I ask, peering around trying to spot Mandy.

  “She’s not here. She went home. Stomach flu, apparently,” she adds loudly, as one of the other teachers passes close to our table.

  “Do you know?” I ask Kate the second he’s gone. “Where she gets the money?”

  Kate gives me a long look. “No,” she admits finally.

  “You haven’t asked?”

  “It’s none of my business. If she wanted us to know, we’d know.”

  Sensing she doesn’t want to discuss it, I change the topic by asking about Tim. I’ve already learned that nothing perks Kate up quite like the mention of her man.

  Before the next class starts, I send a quick text to Mandy: All ok? And then I hurry into my classroom and put my phone in my desk drawer. I whip it out the second the children have filed out at the end of the school day and am relieved to see she’s replied.

  All good, just feeling shite! I blame no sleep and bad sushi.

  That brings a smile to my lips. Bad sushi – even I’ve used that one. Mandy and I are far more alike than she believes. I hastily type out a response. Let me know if you need me to bring you anything. Hope you feel better x

  My phone pings almost immediately. I should be good by morning, thanks x

  I read through the children’s stories with the TV on low in the background and a bowl of stir-
fried vegetable perched on my knees. The stories are sweet – utter plagiarism and peppered with ‘and thens’, but all in all, I’m proud of the work they’ve put in. I save Wei’s until last. I have no idea what it is about him that intrigues me so much, but he’s like an enigma I need to solve. His behavior since the incident has improved, but I’ve noticed he hardly ever interacts with any of the other children anymore.

  The forkful of food goes cold halfway to my lips as I read Wei’s piece. Then I drop it back into the bowl and read it again.

  Wei’s story is simple. He’s retold the story of the three billy goats, but he’s done something remarkable – something I’d never have expected a seven-year-old mind to consider. He’s told it from the troll’s point of view.

  I snatch up my phone and call Kate.

  “Hey!” I say, the second she answers. “Sorry to call so late, you weren’t sleeping, were you?”

  “No, not at all,” she says, in the high-pitched tone that someone adopts when they’re trying desperately to sound like they haven’t just woken up.

  “I’m sorry, I just had to talk to someone about this. Have you ever taught Wei?”

  “Wei Li?”

  “Yes. Have you ever taught him?”

  “No, why?”

  “He’s a genius. I mean, I think he might be really gifted. I set the kids a task today, to write me a story. I read Three Billy Goats Gruff to them first, as an example, and they were all pretty much the same thing – rehashing of common fairy tales. But his story was… hang on, let me read it to you.”

  “Wow,” she says when I’m done.