What Happens Abroad (4 page)

“There's this old fort I heard about. It's supposed to be a pretty cool nightclub.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Where did you hear about this?”

She shrugged. “At the store when I was buying stuff for dinner. There were a couple of guys there who were talking about it, and I listened in.”

“Do you even know how to get there?”

“They seemed pretty sure it was over near the train station. I bet we can find it.”

I was about to protest, but before I could, Sarah chimed in. “It sounds fun.”

I stared at her in surprise. “It does?”

She nodded, looking determined. “I mean, I have to move on sometime, right? Why not at a party in Italy?”

Joelle grinned. “Now you're talking!”

I picked up the stack of plates from the table. “I don't know. I'm really not feeling up to it.”

Joelle looked at Sarah. “Are you in?”

Sarah nodded, glancing at me. “You don't mind being left alone?”

Actually, the idea was sort of creepy; I'd gotten used to having the security of two traveling companions, but I didn't want to be a spoilsport. “Nah. You guys go ahead. Maybe I'll read or something.”

“There's an Internet café a couple of blocks away, if you want to kill some time,” Joelle offered.

I nodded. “Maybe.”

We decided I'd keep the key, since there was no chance of Joelle and Sarah beating me back. They got ready faster than I think I've ever seen anyone, transforming themselves completely for a night of clubbing. Sarah looked determined as she swept smoky eye shadow above her lashes.

“You're sure you won't come with us?” she asked as we were locking the apartment door.

I shook my head. “Not tonight. But I hope you guys have fun!”

Sarah flashed me her bright smile. “We will!”

“You, too, Camie,” Joelle added. “Don't wait up for us.”

I smiled and waved as we parted ways, but as soon as I was alone in the darkness, my heart sank. I didn't really want to go clubbing, but still, I wasn't too keen on spending a night in a strange city alone. Would I even be able to fall asleep without Joelle and Sarah there, or would I get myself too worked up worrying about things that could happen to girls who travel around Italy by themselves?

Pushing those thoughts out of my mind, I followed the directions Joelle had given me to the Internet café. It was a balmy, warm night, and for a fleeting instant, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if Hunter were there walking with me. Maybe he'd interlace his fingers through mine, swinging our hands as we walked.
He'd probably be pretty upbeat
, I thought, and I pictured myself saying something that would make him smile or, better yet, stop walking and look deep into my eyes.

A man leaving the Internet café bumped into me, breaking my fantasy. With a sigh, I went inside and claimed a computer. The guy manning the front desk made me pay up-front, so I handed over five euros for a half hour, and then I sat down, staring at the keyboard. It looked strange, and after a minute, I realized why. Accents and punctuation I'd never seen before were printed on the keys, and alongside the English letters, there were Asian symbols. When I logged on to the computer, it asked me which language I preferred, and the list of possible options was long.

Maybe because Hunter was on my mind, I found myself typing “Dear Hunter” when I opened up my e-mail.

I pinched my nose.
That's ridiculous, Camie. You can't contact him.
But something kept me typing, and soon I'd written a novel-length e-mail that I'd never be able to send. I apologized again for the fight we'd had the second-to-last time we'd seen each other, and I told him that I missed him. Because I was never going to send this e-mail, I also told him that I could remember more and more of the details of our night together, and I hated myself for freaking out and running away from him after. I didn't notice I was crying until a couple of tears hit the keyboard, and I froze, sniffling, and looked at what I'd written.

The cursor was blinking vacantly after the words, “I think I love you.” I inhaled sharply. I hadn't even allowed myself to think such a ridiculous thing, but clearly my subconscious had taken over while I was typing. I stared at the screen, remembering every moment Hunter and I had spent together. I pictured his gangly frame, his hazel eyes, and the way his long hands wrapped around my body, and I shuddered. Hitting the Delete key, I deliberately erased that incriminating phrase. In its place, I typed, “I wish we had another chance.”

Before I could think about it too much, I saved the e-mail to my drafts folder just as the computer beeped at me that my time was up. Annoyed, I hurried up to the counter and paid for another half hour, wiping away tears as I walked and trying not to catch the eye of any of the people in the café.

I sat back down, sniffling, and fired off a quick e-mail to Mom. I'd told Suze where I was headed next, but there was no guarantee that she and Mom were even speaking yet, so I figured it would be better if I just let her know. Actually, I sort of hoped Susie and Mom were still fighting; if they weren't speaking, there wasn't any chance that Mom would somehow find out about the mess I was in with the scholarship.

My computer beeped again, and at first I thought I'd hit my time limit. But then I noticed the blinking message in my in-box, and my heart dropped out of my chest.

It was a message from Jim.

I stared at the screen for a frozen moment, not comprehending. Jim hadn't tried to get in touch with me once in the months since our breakup. The shitty dumping phone call had actually been the last time I spoke with him. Why in the world was he e-mailing me now?

His familiar name stood out in bold in my in-box, and I swallowed nervously. Part of me wanted to just delete the e-mail and move on with my life, and maybe I should have. But I was alone in Italy, miserable about Hunter, and it almost seemed like a sign that Jim chose that moment to come back into my life. Hesitantly, I clicked on the message.

It was short; incredibly short, in fact. The e-mail was only seven words long, but I read them over and over, searching for some hidden meaning. “Hi. I miss you. Can we talk?”

I sank back into my chair as the computer let out a series of warning beeps before the screen went black. I was out of time, but I didn't get up to buy more. I just sat there, stunned, for a few moments, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in my heart.

Had I stepped into an alternate reality? First, I'd almost told my fictitious e-mail version of Hunter that I loved him, and now Jim was messaging me to say he missed me? I dropped my head into my hands, but the tears that were building up in my chest morphed into a laugh, and once I started, I couldn't seem to stop. Nearly hysterical, I grabbed my bag and got out of the café as fast as I could, trying to keep my lips pressed shut until I was out in the street.

Once I was out in the dark summer air, another bark of laughter escaped my lips. A couple crossed to the other side of the street to get away from me, but I barely cared. I glared up at the night sky, hiccupping with angry laughter.

“When I said I wanted a second chance, I was talking about Hunter, not Jim!” The sky didn't answer me, and suddenly, I realized how ridiculous I looked. I skittered down the block and back to the apartment as fast as I could, hoping there was no law in Italy against being a heartbroken crazy person out after dark.

Once inside, I considered moving my pillow into the other bedroom, but I couldn't be bothered. I flopped down across the narrow mattress. What the hell was wrong with me?

Turning over, I stared up at the dark ceiling. I would never see Hunter again; why was I still so hung up on him? And as for Jim, he'd been a jerk. Why did I even care that he'd e-mailed me? I wished I didn't care about either of them, but I couldn't lie to myself.

I still cared way too much about both of them.

Hunter was a lost cause. I knew that. I knew I should just put him out of my mind and focus on figuring out how I felt about Jim, but I couldn't do it. Every time I tried to imagine myself with Jim, the vision morphed until I was in Hunter's arms. They were nothing alike, and even though I'd thought Jim was gorgeous when we got together, now his sandy-brown hair was nothing compared to tall, dark, and scruffy. Pressing the pillow against my face, I felt like throwing a childish temper tantrum.

Why couldn't I just enjoy this vacation? Why did I keep thinking about boy drama? Maybe I needed to throw myself into some fun; it shouldn't be too hard to find a guy willing to have a no-strings-attached summer fling in Florence.

I started wishing that Joelle and Sarah would hurry up and come back, but then I checked the clock. It was only eleven; if the fort nightclub place really was as good as Joelle had heard, they'd likely still be out for another hour at least.

Disgruntled, I flipped on the light. Digging my sketchbook out of my bag, I sat down on the floor and started to draw furiously. After filling a page with angry scribbles, my brain felt a little bit calmer, and I flipped to a clean sheet, trying to put my mind into my art. Without realizing what I was drawing, I started to sketch, slowly at first, and then with more confidence as my fingers recognized the arching curve of the Duomo. I messed around with the shading a little bit, but I couldn't make the thing look less like a breast. Still, it was pretty, and I set the sketchpad down with a sigh.

I tiptoed across the floor of my room and opened the two sets of shutters. Resting my elbows on the windowsill, I leaned out into the warm night. It smelled like cinnamon and flowers, and I inhaled deeply.

God, the city was gorgeous. The fairy-tale feeling I'd had ever since we arrived in Florence crept back into my mind, and as I stared out at the Duomo and other buildings lit up in the inky darkness, I wondered how much this view had changed over the years. Had a princess of the Renaissance seen the same images of her city as I was seeing now?

Despite the city lights, the stars were faintly visible overhead, and I tipped my face up to the night sky. When Susie and I were kids, we had always challenged each other to make the most wishes on stars each night. Suze had an endless supply of wishes, and she was usually still pointing to stars and claiming them long after I'd stopped wishing. We'd wished for silly things: a pony, more money, a guy who would let us call him Daddy. I loved wishing with Susie, but it had been a long time since either of us had made any star wishes.

Remembering what I'd typed in the e-mail I'd never send to Hunter, and feeling lonely beyond belief, I picked the brightest star I could see. “I wish,” I whispered, “that I could have a second chance.”

My words were swallowed up by the darkness.

I stared out at the city for a bit longer, letting my thoughts drift around, and an idea occurred to me. Glancing down at the street, I fought back a surge of vertigo. Instead, I looked at the wide windowsill. It looked big enough to hold me, but I didn't want to just hoist myself up and topple over backward to the street. I dragged the nightstand under the window and used it to climb up, slowly, clutching the hinges of the shutters, until I was standing in the tall window. Still hanging on tightly, I looked out over the city, and I almost laughed.

It was like a whole different world stretched beneath me, waiting to be seen. The angle of the buildings I'd been looking at when I was standing on the floor of my room had shifted, and I felt a heady sense of power now that my eyes skimmed over the Duomo.

A few feet shouldn't have made that much of a difference, but then again, it's all about perspective. As an artist, you'd have thought I would have remembered that. A small smile spread across my face as I considered the possibilities spread out before me. Maybe the answer was waiting for me down in the streets of Florence.

I don't know what time Joelle and Sarah got back, but the next night, while Sarah was making dinner, I decided to ask for a second chance.

“Do you guys think you would go back to the fort?”

Joelle brightened. She was sitting on the counter, watching Sarah cook, and now she grinned at me. “Totally. It was so much fun!”

I hesitated. “Could I come?”

Sarah smiled. “Of course you can! You'll love it, Camie. It's so different.”

“Different how?”

Joelle hopped down from the counter and grabbed the waiting stack of plates. “You'll find out!”

Excited, I followed her into the dining room. “You guys don't mind going out again?”

Joelle shook her head, her short hair dancing around her face. “Are you kidding? I love to move, and that place was the best dance party I've ever seen.”

I grinned. “I'm not much of a dancer.”

Joelle's smile stretched even wider. “Everyone can dance. All you need are your girls and,” she added mischievously, “a little booze to loosen up.”

I thought back to my night with Hunter. “I don't want to get that loose again!”

Joelle laughed. “That's why you need your girls, too. We'll take care of you.”

I hesitated for a moment, but then I nodded. “Okay. What should I wear?”

“Whatever you want!”

I must have looked skeptical.

“Seriously, it's an anything goes kind of place.”

~

I realized what she meant as soon as we reached the fort.

It was about a twenty-minute walk from our apartment, but the streets were far from deserted; street-side restaurants with square umbrellas over each table were packed with customers, even though it was after ten o'clock, and everything was alive and festive. Florence certainly felt different than Paris had at night. I glanced at Joelle and Sarah. Maybe that had more to do with fact that I was now a part of a group instead of being a girl alone. Either way, nobody harassed us as we made the trek to the fort, and when we got there, all I could do was stare for a minute.