Mary Kate crosses her arms and plants herself in front of me, the very picture of disapproval. “Harper Reed, you are not standing here telling me that you crossed an entire ocean to be with me for a semester, only to spend it holed up inside your dorm room like you’re still at home.”
“It’s important work!” I protest.
“When else are you going to get this chance?” she counters, throwing her arms wide. “The chance to experience British culture at its best.”
“Also, beer,” Nick butts in, elbowing me aside in his crazed dance back up the hallway.
“Besides, Patrick’s coming.” Mary Kate’s eyes twinkle.
I roll my eyes. “Not helping.”
“Look, you only study abroad once, Harps. When are you going to live in another country again? When are you going to live here, and more importantly, right down the dorm hallway from me?” She sticks her tongue out. “You need to live a little.”
“I’m really sorry, I just can’t.” I shut the room door on her before she can protest further. I listen to her humph loudly outside for a few minutes, before her footsteps fade back up the hallway.
But I don’t sit back down at my desk. I stand there, staring at the folder, and all I can think is that he probably wouldn’t sacrifice his social life for me. Professor Kingston isn’t sitting around feeling guilty for what he did this morning, for sticking me with all the hard work, and dumping me like I was nothing but some random hookup.
My inbox pings, and my heart leaps in my chest. It’s him! my heart cries, even as my head insists there’s no way. Not unless he’s written a detailed apology for this morning.
I open my email and sigh. 1 new message from F. Reed. Not him, just Mom. Subject line: Hope you’re having fun!
But it’s good to hear from her. I click into the email. Harper darling, just wanted to write and let you know that we’re thinking about you! Your father finally got around to sweeping up the leaves today, and wouldn’t you know it, the Loughlins’ dogs got into the mess, and then . . .
I scroll through her usual rambling stories about our neighbors and extended family members, my smile growing wider and wider as I do. Much as these stories can get boring sometimes in person, it’s a nice reminder right now that some things—like my mom—never change.
It makes me miss her. Especially when I get to the last paragraph, all about how proud of me she is, her star student, and how she misses me.
Screw homework, I need to say hi to her.
I hit the call button, and luckily she must still be sitting at her computer, because a moment later her smiling face lights up my screen.
“Harper! What a pleasant surprise.” She leans around the computer to shout, “Honey, Harper’s on!” presumably at my father, though the deafening nearness of her mouth to the speaker makes me flinch.
“How’s your trip going, sweetheart?”
“Great!” I tell her all about the last week since I’ve caught up with her. I talk about Mary Kate’s party (leaving out the details, of course), and about my classes, and the exciting new research project I was picked to help out with (also leaving out the details).
By this point, my dad has appeared over Mom’s shoulder, crouching down so he can make faces behind her back at eye level. She swats him without interrupting my story, but that only makes me crack up, and them too.
“I’m proud of you, honey,” she says. “But I hope that courses aren’t the only thing you’re focusing on!”
It’s so unexpected coming from the mother who raised me to work my ass off for a 4.0 in high school that I can’t help but stare. My father continues to laugh, probably at my expression.
“She’s right, kid. We didn’t spend all this money to send you abroad just so you could live like a nun!”
God, I really hope my face isn’t lighting up beet red at that remark. My poor, naïve parents.
“Go out and enjoy yourself,” Mom adds. “What time is it, almost seven-thirty? Shouldn’t you be out having dinner with your friends?”
My stomach growls, right on cue. “Um, I guess. But I was trying to finish this assignment . . . ”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Harps.” Dad leans closer to the microphone, and assumes a gimmicky stage whisper. “No one expects you to get perfect grades over there.”
“My professors all but told me our study abroad semester was the one time we could slack off,” Mom added. Then she pursed her lips. “Though, I mean, not too much. Don’t start smoking reefer or whatever the kids do these days.”