Geek Abroad (2 page)

“Well, not the
bah humbug
,”Sadie said. “I was thinking more along the lines of roast goose and mince pies and waking up to snow on Christmas morning! We’ve never had a white Christmas before.”

That was true enough. We lived in Florida, where it was normally warm enough to wear shorts on Christmas Day. Every year, we wrapped twinkle lights around the palm trees in our front yard.

“Other than being vomited on, how was your flight?”Sadie asked, as we joined the throng of people filing out of the airport through large automatic doors.

I gasped as the frigid air hit me, as though I’d walked smack into an iceberg. It was
freezing
out. The wind was blowing so coldly, it felt like it was rattling through my bones. As we queued for a cab—even the taxis were cool here, all black and boxy and retro-looking—I unzipped my suitcase and pulled out my coat, and quickly slipped it on.

“Long,”I said to answer Sadie’s question. Suddenly I felt really, really tired. I checked my watch. No wonder: It was two in the morning at home, and I’d been too excited to sleep on the plane. Just thinking of it made me yawn—a long, cold, shaky yawn.

“You must be exhausted,”Sadie said, patting my arm. “We’ll get you home, and you can take a nice nap.”

“But I don’t want to nap,”I said. “I’m only going to be in London for two and a half weeks! If I’m going to see everything I want to see, I have to start today. I just don’t know where to begin.”

But then I yawned again, and this time my eyes watered from the cold, causing my vision to go blurry for a moment. I rubbed my hands together and stamped my feet, trying to warm up, and wished I’d brought a heavier coat with me. Maybe Sadie’s Little Red Riding Hood cape wasn’t so crazy after all.

“There will be plenty of time to do everything,”Sadie promised as we finally reached the front of the line and climbed into one of the big black taxicabs.

“Maybe I’ll just power nap now,”I said, leaning back against the gray leather seat. “Then I’ll be rested up and ready to get started.”

Sadie leaned over and squeezed my hand. “Good idea. I’m just so glad you’re finally here,”she said fondly.

“Me too,”I mumbled, wondering what my first glimpse of London would be as we drove into the city. Would we pass by Big Ben? Or Tower Bridge? Or maybe even Buckingham Palace? But before I could ask Sadie, who was leaning forward to give the cabbie detailed instructions on where we were going, my eyelids drooped closed. I was asleep before the cab pulled away from the curb.

Chapter 2

I woke up in the dark. I rubbed my eyes and tried to remember where I was. It came back quickly: My flight to London. Falling asleep in the cab. Sadie gently shaking me awake, and then guiding me upstairs to the guest room at the very top of a narrow three-story town house. Falling face-first on a chintz-covered bed, and passing out again almost immediately.

At this realization, I sat up so suddenly, I actually got a head rush.
Oh, no!
I thought wildly.
I fell asleep!
From what I could tell from how dark the room was, I’d been asleep all day. . . . Which meant I’d completely wasted my first day in London.

“Oh, no,”I groaned out loud. I had so many things I wanted to do and see while I was in London; I didn’t have time to waste an entire day sleeping.

What time is it?
I wondered, instinctively glancing at my watch, before remembering that it was too dark to see anything.

I fumbled with the lamp on the bedside table. Dim light flooded over the room, which was truly astonishing in its ugliness. It looked like a flower shop had exploded all over the small space. There was hideous seventies-era brown and orange floral wallpaper, a faded chintz coverlet covered in pink cabbage roses draped over the bed, and a worn hooked rug featuring circles of daisy chains on the dark wood floor. Lace scarves covered the dresser and nightstand. The room smelled damp and vaguely catlike.

That’s it! It’s a little-old-lady-with-too-many-cats room,
I thought. I wondered where the little old lady was now, and guessed that since the house had been available for Sadie to rent, the cat lady had probably moved on to the big floral-wallpapered house in the sky.

I got up out of bed and went out the bedroom door to stand on a narrow landing at the top of the stairs. I could hear muffled voices coming from downstairs. Did Sadie have a guest over? Or was that just the television I was hearing?

I padded down the scarily steep, creaking stairs, holding on to an old-fashioned wood banister for support. I had a hazy memory of Sadie telling me when we came in that the kitchen and dining room were on the first floor, the living room was on the second, and the bedrooms were on the third. The voices grew louder as I reached the second-floor landing. And now it didn’t sound like the television at all. . . . There were definitely actual people over. More than one, from what I could hear.

The living room was down a short hallway, and the doorway was open. I craned my neck to see in. There was a small crowd of adults gathered inside—men in dark suits, women in cocktail dresses. Sadie, her dark eyes sparkling and her hair smoothed back from her face, stood in the middle of the crowd. She was wearing a crimson velvet pantsuit, and was gesticulating wildly as she spoke.

I groaned silently. This was
so
typical of Sadie. Back in Florida, she’d thrown so many impromptu parties—especially after she and my dad had divorced—that I’d gotten used to studying by the din of cocktail party chatter.

Even so, I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that she’d have people over tonight, my first night in London. I hadn’t yet told her about Dex, or the writing contest, or how successful the Snowflake Gala was. Besides, even after my daylong nap, I was still a bit groggy and not at all in the mood to make small talk with a bunch of people I didn’t know. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I could sneak back up to my room and wait it out until the guests left. I certainly wasn’t dressed for a party—I was wearing the same rumpled jeans, not to mention the same
underwear
I’d worn on the plane. I was in serious need of a hot shower and clean clothes.

I heard Sadie’s voice rising up over the others, saying, “Yes, Miranda just got in this morning. She’s spending the holidays here with me! Isn’t that fabulous?”Then, before I could sneak off, she spotted me. “Oh, wait, here she is now! Darling, come in here!”

Gah,
I thought. I looked longingly back up the stairs, wishing I’d thought to shower and change before I ventured downstairs. But everyone had turned to look at me, as though I were an interesting zoo exhibit labeled DAUGHTER OF FAMOUS WRITER, so I had no choice but to smile gamely and make my way into the party, feeling horribly self-conscious the whole time.

“Come meet everyone, darling,”Sadie said, holding out her arm, beckoning me to join her.

“Um, hi, Mom,”I said, sidling over next to her. “You didn’t tell me you were having a party,”I hissed in her ear.

“Party? Don’t be silly, darling. This isn’t a party. It’s a just a gathering of
bon vivants
,”Sadie exclaimed loudly. “Come, let me introduce you around. I’ve been dying to show you off.”

A flurry of introductions followed, although my brain was still so jet-lagged, I couldn’t remember anyone’s name. I just smiled and shook hands, and wished that everyone was wearing name tags. Among the group, there was a portly man with thick white hair who couldn’t seem to hear a word I was saying, and kept asking, “But
whose
daughter is she supposed to be?”to the younger man standing next to him. Then there was a very thin woman with a long, hooked nose, giant ruby rings encircling every finger, and a thick Russian accent.

“How do you do?”the woman said gravely, inclining her head at me.

“Madame Aleksey was a famous ballerina,”Sadie twittered excitedly in my ear. She turned toward Madame Aleksey. “Miranda used to love going to see
The Nutcracker
every Christmas. She dreamed of being a prima ballerina. Begged me for dance lessons.”

I colored. “
Mom
. I was
five
.”

“Is that so?
You
are a dancer?”Madame Aleksey asked, looking me up and down in disbelief.

“She took a year of tap lessons, and was devastated when she didn’t get a solo in the school recital. Remember that, Miranda? Instead, she was in the chorus for the ‘Good Ship Lollipop.’It was adorable. All of the little girls wore sailor suits,”Sadie continued.

“Mom,”
I hissed again.

Sadie ignored me. “Miranda was so angry that the solo went to Kelli Simpson, she gave up dance after that,”she continued.

“Hmph. Being a dancer requires a tremendous amount of commitment, as well as natural grace,”Madame Aleksey said in a critical tone that made it clear she thought I lacked both.

I felt my face go hot with embarrassment. It was true, I was no dancer. But no natural grace? It wasn’t like I’d tripped walking across the room.

“And this,”Sadie said, pulling me over to a round-faced man with a snub nose and thick salt-and-pepper hair, “is Giles Wentworth, my British editor. Giles, this is my daughter, Miranda, the wunderkind.”

“Ah, Miranda, it’s delightful to finally meet you,”Giles said. His voice was warm and rich. As he smiled benignly at me, it struck me that despite the graying hair, Giles had a very young face. He leaned forward, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Do tell me: What is the product of 426 times 9,567?”

“4,075,542,”I said, smothering a sigh.

I was used to being quizzed by my parents’friends. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been able to calculate sums in my head. I even attend a special school for kids with high IQs, called the Notting Hill Independent School for Gifted Children. Everyone just calls it Geek High for obvious reasons.

But here’s the thing: I don’t really like math. Sure, it’s easy for me. But just because something comes easily to you doesn’t necessarily mean that you enjoy it.

“Amazing. Of course, I wouldn’t know if that was the right answer or not!”Giles said, with a bark of laughter. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

I smiled. Giles seemed like a nice man, so it was hard to hold the math quiz against him.

“My son is around here somewhere,”Giles said, looking around from right to left. “Ah, there he is. Henry, my lad, come over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

A son. I had a sinking suspicion that Sadie and Giles had arranged this little meeting. . . . One that was confirmed as Sadie prodded me in the side with what was supposed to be a surreptitious elbow. When I glared back at her, she winked saucily.

“Giles and I thought that Henry could show you around London,”Sadie said mischievously.

Oh, no. Oh, no no no no
no
! It was a setup. How could Sadie do this to me?

For the first time in my life, I had a boyfriend. Okay, maybe Dex wasn’t
technically
my boyfriend. Yet. But he had shown up at the Snowflake Gala to be my surprise date. And he’d kissed me, and told me how much he’d liked me. So if he wasn’t my official boyfriend now, he probably would be as soon as I got back to Florida. The last thing I needed was to be set up with some British kid, who was apparently such a loser that he didn’t have any friends of his own. He probably had bad teeth, horrible breath, and wore prissy coats and ties even when he wasn’t in school.

“Ah, here he is,”Giles said, nodding behind me. “Miranda, let me introduce you to my son, Henry.”

I turned, expecting the worst . . .and found myself gaping up at the very tall, very cute Henry. He had the same round, pink-cheeked face as his father, but Henry’s hair was dark and shaggy and his eyes were dark blue with green flecks. He was wearing faded Levi’s and a blue cable-knit sweater that highlighted his broad shoulders.

“Hullo,”Henry said. When he grinned at me, dimples appeared in his cheeks.

I was suddenly acutely aware of just how awful I looked, with my messy hair and rumpled clothes. There was a horrible taste in my mouth, sour and bitter at the same time. I tried to remember the last time I’d brushed my teeth, and realized with a sinking horror that it had been while I was back in Florida.

That was it. . . . As soon as I got Sadie alone, I was going to kill her.

“Hi,”I said, trying to open my mouth as little as possible, so as not to blast him with my nasty jet-lag breath.

“Henry, we were just telling Miranda how we’d volunteered your services as a tour guide,”Giles said.

“You don’t have to,”I said quickly, all too aware that babysitting me was probably the last thing Henry wanted to do.

“No, it’ll be fun,”Henry said.

“It will be perfect, darling,”Sadie interjected. “I have to work, after all, and it will be nice for you to have someone your own age to hang out with.”Then, spotting someone across the room, she said, “Giles, look, Alice Sands just arrived. I haven’t seen her in ages. I have to say hello.”

“I’ll go with you,”Giles said, and the two departed, leaving Henry and me alone together.

“Are you hungry?”Henry asked, gesturing toward the table, which was covered with food—dips, cheeses, sliced fruit, tiny pies, little sandwiches with the crusts cut off.

My stomach gave an embarrassingly loud rumble at the sight of all the food. I covered my stomach with one hand, willing Henry not to have heard, but I could tell by the way he grinned at me that he had.