Getting the Boot (2 page)

Sheela burst out laughing at the utter ridiculousness of this scenario. “He must be quite a guy if I'm branding his name onto my ass. Is he cute at least?”

“Beautiful. He's a Portuguese bad boy with long black hair.” She gave Sheela's dark locks a flip. “And a Harley. Too bad you're gonna ditch him for a Roman hottie on a Vespa.”

The way Kelly said it, it had almost seemed possible.

They made their way to the bar, where Kelly, ignoring Sheela's anxious expression, poured them each a glass of punch. Kelly's father was a corporate attorney, and he had developed a technique for making sure his daughter behaved herself at parties. Before going out, she had to sign a contract banning drugs and drinking. It was an effective approach, mostly, but Kelly had become expert at tweaking the rules here and there.

“This is spiked,” Sheela said. “Didn't you promise your parents you wouldn't drink tonight?”

“Relax,” Kelly answered. “I have a system. Take a few sips, then hold the glass all night. That way, nobody bugs you.” Kelly waved at someone on the other side of the room. “Come on. There's someone I want you to meet.”

“Freddy, Sheela. Sheela, Freddy.” Kelly put a death grip on Sheela's arm so she wouldn't run away and whispered in her ear. “One gorgeous Portuguese biker boy, with my compliments.” She smiled into her friend's scarlet face.

Kelly watched as Sheela cast a furtive glance at Freddy. He smiled and reached out to shake her hand. “According to Kelly, we've been dating for years. Why don't you tell me about yourself?”

Kelly let the two of them talk while she perched on the arm of a nearby couch and flirted with a few football players from school. One of them held up a lit joint. “Kel, you want a hit?”

Kelly wrinkled her nose. “Nope, not my thing. Actually, all the smoke in here is making my allergies go crazy. What I
need
to do is dance.” She grabbed a partner off the couch and waved to Sheela. “Have fun, you crazy kids.” She spun on her stilettos and took off.

Kelly sighed happily at the memory. The party had been a total success. Even though Sheela had left early to finish packing, it was obvious that she had enjoyed herself. Kelly hadn't seen her laugh so much since they were little. And she'd never seen her dance before, much less with a guy. Kelly's biggest gamble, enlisting Freddy, a pal from work, to play Sheela's boyfriend, had worked like a charm.

It was an absolutely perfect send-off until the very end of the evening, when Tyff had burst into tears.

“Summer won't be the same without you. Who will I go to the beach with? The parties are totally gonna suck.” She snuffled pathetically. “I'll miss you.”

“Yeah, and who will
I
go shopping with?” Starr demanded. “I mean, Tyff's okay with shoes, but she can't accessorize to save her life.”

Kelly put her arm around Tyff. “C'mon, guys. It's only three months. You'll be back in bags and belts in no time.”

“It's not just three months,” Tyffani whined. “You'll come back totally changed, and you won't want to have anything to do with us senior year. And then we'll go off to college and this will all be over.”

A wave of nostalgia washed over Kelly as she gazed out the plane window; she wished all of her friends could have come to Italy with her. She had no regrets about saying good-bye to life in the dull suburbs, but she would sorely miss her crew. Exploring Rome had to be a thousand times more fun than hanging out in Chicago, but doing it alone was no good. She was thankful Sheela would be there with her, even if the girl's social skills needed a major boost.

Sheela had reverted to her bookworm ways the instant she'd left Starr's house. In fact, if she hadn't been turning a page every now and then, Kelly would have checked her pulse. It was a shame, because Sheela could be lots of fun, on the rare occasions she let her guard down. She had a dry kind of wit that cracked Kelly up and a simple, direct style that was a nice break from some of the posers at school. Kelly hoped that at some point this summer, she could convince her old friend to enjoy herself a little.

Kelly actually considered it her duty to kick up their friendship a notch. After all, if it hadn't been for Sheela, Kelly would never have found out about the S.A.S.S. program, or the Programma Internazionale di Roma. S.A.S.S. was a study-abroad program for American girls that placed them in schools all around the world, and the Programma was Sheela's school of choice. Its director, Dr. Timothy Wainwright, had been Mr. Ramaswamy's adviser in grad school. Dr. Wainwright had sent Mr. R a copy of the brochure with Sheela in mind, but the moment Kelly had spied Sheela reading it in the high-school cafeteria, she had been intrigued. Even now, months later, she still couldn't stop looking through the brochure. Kelly pulled it out of her carry-on bag and flipped through it for the umpteenth time.

The cover featured a panoramic view of some ancient ruins with the sun setting majestically behind them. Smaller photo insets showed happy-looking teenagers strolling down quaint, cobblestone streets, eating gelato, hiking in the countryside, and engaged in animated discussion in a classroom. Inside, a headline announced, EARN SCHOOL CREDITS WHILE IMMERSING YOURSELF IN THE HISTORY, LANGUAGE, AND CULTURE OF ITALY.

“You know, in a couple of hours we'll actually be there,” Sheela said. “I think you can ditch the brochure already.”

“I can't help it,” Kelly said. “I'm just so freaking excited. What do you think the dorms are gonna be like? I'm picturing something straight out of MTV
Cribs
!”

Sheela snorted. “Except they don't have homework on
Cribs
. Seriously, Kelly, it's a school, not a spa. You're actually going to have to do some work, you know.”

Kelly groaned. “Don't remind me. My parents certainly haven't let me forget.” She flashed her most brilliant smile. “Luckily, I have a genius at my disposal.”

“Are you saying the Ramaswamy SAT prep course wasn't enough for you?” Sheela picked up her book again. “High-quality wisdom like mine is going to cost you from now on.”

Kelly laughed. “I'll keep that in mind.” More seriously, she added, “I already totally owe you, Sheela.”

It hadn't been easy convincing her parents—or the S.A.S.S. coordinator, or Dr. Wainwright, for that matter—that she could cut it in such a rigorous academic program, but Kelly had waged a long, hard campaign. Initially, she was wait-listed as a S.A.S.S. candidate. But then she'd been inspired to try a backdoor approach and had asked Sheela's dad for Dr. Wainwright's e-mail address. And it had worked. She brought her grades up, cut way back on socializing, and, with Sheela's help, got a far better score on her SATs than anyone would have expected. And she made sure that Dr. W was aware of each of her accomplishments. She had earned her acceptance fair and square, and now she was going to enjoy every minute of her summer abroad.

Sheela smiled slyly. “You can buy me a
stracciatella
gelato for paybacks.”

Kelly blinked. “What the hell is that?”

“It's vanilla gelato with chocolate chips.”

“You got it.”

The plane took another gentle dip downward. Kelly pulled her purse up onto her lap and felt around inside. Mirror, brush, lip gloss, blush, mascara.

Sheela looked at her quizzically. “What are you getting all dolled up for? It's six o'clock in the morning in Rome.”

Kelly smiled and shrugged. “I want to make a good impression on Italy, that's all.”

“On Italian men, more like.”

“Yeah, well, in celebrity mags, paparazzi are always snapping shots of stars as they get off planes. It's important to always look your best—you never know who you might bump into.” She reached over to smooth Sheela's seat back-induced hair frizz and got her hand smacked.

“If Orlando Bloom happens to be loitering around the airport at the crack of dawn, I'll be out of luck. Otherwise, lay off.”

Kelly looked out the window as the plane descended for landing. The weather was thick and overcast, and the plane had to circle before finally bumping onto the runway. As soon as the seat-belt sign went off, Kelly jumped up so fast she nearly blasted a hole in the overhead compartment. The girls hoisted their carry-on bags and followed the crowd to the baggage carousels.

Sheela consulted a stack of well-thumbed papers. “I guess most of the other kids are coming in on early-morning flights, too. They're sending two buses, one at eight, one at nine-thirty.” She checked her watch: 6:45 A.M., Rome time. “Looks like we're in the right terminal to meet the first bus.”

Kelly was barely listening. Instead, she was scanning the crowd gathered around the luggage carousels. It was easy enough to spot the Americans, but she couldn't figure out whether the others were real Italians or not. Many wore jeans and T-shirts. A group of seedy-looking taxi drivers circled around, waving signs and pinching cigarettes between tobacco-stained fingers as they searched for fares.

It took the girls quite a while to collect their suitcases and go through customs. Kelly was at a total loss when it came to understanding the customs officials, and Sheela had to do all the talking. After what seemed like forever, they collapsed onto a bench outside to wait for the bus.

“Now I know why they call this flight the red-eye,” Kelly said, yawning.

“I know. I feel like we've been traveling for days.” Sheela glanced at Kelly. “Hey, where's the locket your mom gave you?”

Kelly gasped, her hand flying up to her neck. She pulled the chain out from underneath her shirt. “Oh, thank God.” She elbowed Sheela. “You scared the crap out of me. My parents would kill me if I lost this.”

“Sorry. Can I see it again?”

Kelly proudly held out the locket. Her parents had given it to her as a going-away present when they dropped her off at the airport. It was an antique that had belonged to her mom's mother. Kelly carefully opened the shiny gold lid, running her fingers over the swirling script initials etched on its surface. The inside held an old black-and-white photo of her grandmother and a new shot of her parents.

“Wow, your grandmother looked just like you when she was young,” Sheela said.

“Yeah, and my mother says I'm as full of piss and vinegar as she was,” Kelly said, laughing. “I still can't believe Mom gave this to me. She's worn it ever since Grandma died last year. But my granddad bought it for my grandmother when they were on their honeymoon in Rome, so I guess my mother thought it was a sign or something. She says it will be like my grandmother is watching over me when I wear it. When she was alive, Grandma never took it off. And neither will I.”

Sheela glanced down at her watch and stood up. “It's almost eight. The bus should be here soon.”

Kelly carefully tucked the locket back under her shirt, grabbed her suitcases, and followed Sheela outside. The sun was burning off the last bits of fog, and the air was getting downright steamy. A man approached them, waving his arms toward the parking area and shouting something Kelly couldn't understand.

Sheela answered him politely, “No,
grazie
.”

“Is that our bus driver?” Kelly asked.

“Nope. A bootleg cabbie.”

“If this bus doesn't come soon, that might be an option,” Kelly muttered.

Just then a little blue bus with a sign in the window reading PROGRAMMA INTERNAZIONALE DI ROMA zipped by, and slowed to a stop a short distance past them. Kelly and Sheela jumped up and rushed down the sidewalk as fast as their bags would allow. A small cluster of similarly burdened teens was already lining up to board.

There was a punk/Goth girl with spiky jet-black hair and thick, smudgy eyeliner, an outdoorsy-looking guy with a huge hiker's frame pack strapped to his back, and two girls whom Starr would have described as “granolas.” As they got closer, Sheela's face froze into a petrified grin.

“God, I hate being sociable,” she muttered.

Kelly reached out and squeezed Sheela's arm. “Relax. They're just people. Nobody's going to bite your head off.” She smiled. “With your brains and my personality, we can't go wrong. Promise me you'll try to enjoy yourself.”

Sheela gave her a grateful nod and took a few deep breaths. “Okay, let's do it.”