“We’re back on Scotland?”
My dad stands by the stove, a frown creasing his brow, spatula in one hand—yay, Pancake Wednesday—and I wave a handful of papers at him.
“Not just Scotland, but Scotland school,” I say. “You’re a teacher, Dad. Anna’s a guidance counselor. We live and breathe school.”
Before he can respond to that, I sift through the printouts. In the past few days since the Jude Incident and my epiphany at Aunt Vi’s, I’ve been a one-woman Financial Aid Research Machine.
Finding the paper I want, I pull it from the stack, brandishing it. “Gregorstoun offers all kinds of scholarships. And it’s one of the best schools in the world, Dad. Gregorstoun ‘has educated kings and princes and prime ministers,’ and this is the first year they’re admitting women. I’d be part of the first female class ever allowed, which means technically I’d be part of history. My picture would probably be in history books.”
“Scottish history books,” Dad counters, and I nod.
“Even better. Have you ever read up on Scottish history? It’s wild. Gonna be me and Braveheart, side by side.”
That makes Dad smile, as I’d suspected it would, but when he turns back to the stove, he’s shaking his head. “I guess I just thought this was off the table, kid. You seemed so set on not going just a couple of weeks ago.”
Dad only busts out the “kid” thing when he’s feeling out of his parenting depth. Which isn’t very often. Although sometimes I wonder what kind of dad he would’ve been if Mom were still around. But that feels unfair to him or disloyal or something. Like I don’t think he’s enough.
Putting the papers on the table, I go stand behind him, my hands on his shoulders. “I just . . . changed my mind,” I tell him. “The more I thought about it, the more it felt like I’d turned it down too fast. I got freaked out by the idea of how far away it was, but I can’t let being scared keep me from doing something awesome.”
Leaning closer, I add, “And again, it’s school, Dad. It’s not like I’m asking to go follow some band around Europe for the next year.”
He scoffs at that, twisting a little to look back at me. “I feel like I’d know how to handle that better than this, if I’m being honest. That I can understand.”
Smiling, I give him a firm pat with both hands before stepping back. “Maybe this is my way of rebelling. Tragically uncool daughter of very cool parents.”
“I think you’re very cool,” Dad counters loyally, flipping a pancake. “So cool, in fact, that I was thinking we might go camping this weekend? Just me and you, like we used to. I also saw an ad for a gem and mineral show in Houston next week that might be fun. Haven’t gone to one of those in a while.”
I give him a look. “Dad, are you trying to bribe me with science?”
“A little bit,” he acknowledges, then nods at Gus, my baby brother, who sits in his high chair, happily smacking his plastic spoon against the tray.
“I mean, if you leave, who can I camp with? This one is terrible at setting up tents. And you should have seen the mess the last time I asked him to gather firewood.”
Gus shouts a word that kind of sounds like “TENT!” and I chuck him under his chin. “The family honor of keeping up with tent stakes and the camping stove falls to you, my brother.”
Gus gives me a gummy grin, tilting his head to try to put my fingers in his mouth, and from behind me, Dad sighs.
“You don’t . . . If this is about Anna, or Gus, or you thinking—”
I cut Dad off with one raised hand. “No,” I say. “No tragic backstory at play here.”
Dad married Anna three years ago, and they had Gus last year. It was definitely a change, going from being an only child with a single parent to having a stepmom and a baby in the house, but it’s also been a good change. I walk over to the kitchen table, picking up a can of cereal puffs and dumping out a handful for Gus, and I’m rewarded with another smile. My whole heart melts as I smooth a hand over his reddish hair. Gus looks way more like my stepmother than my dad or me—both of us have fairly boring brown hair and eyes.
He’s also just about the best thing in my life, so my desire to try out school in another country has nothing to do with feeling out of place or unwelcome.
“Scarecrow, I think I’ll miss you most of all,” I coo to Gus now, who babbles back, shoving a handful of the puffs into his mouth, and I sigh. “I don’t think he gets my pop culture references yet.”
“Give the Padawan time,” Dad replies, and I grin at him.
He’s a good dad. A great one, even, and the idea of leaving him, even temporarily, is the only black cloud hovering over my perfect plan. Well, leaving him and Gus and Anna. Spending my senior year abroad would be a lot easier if I didn’t like my family, I guess.
“This isn’t about anyone but me,” I say to Dad now, and that’s almost totally true. I mean, there are parts of it that are also about Jude, but I still haven’t decided to get into that with Dad. It’s not that he wouldn’t be okay with me liking girls—it’s just that things have felt complicated and messy, and I don’t really want to talk to him until I’ve sorted it all out in my own mind.
Jude has texted me a few more times since I saw her and Mason by Aunt Vi’s apartment. I haven’t known how to reply, so I convinced myself that I am too busy to answer her anyway, and that I need to focus on Gregorstoun.
Which isn’t a total lie. I mean, I’ll be leaving home and everything familiar. Yes, it might be scary. Yes, there is a part of me that is maaaaaaybe, possibly running away. But there’s also a part of me that gets more and more excited every time I look at the school’s brochure.
Sitting back at the table, I move a place mat out of the way to spread out my Scotland School File again, tapping my fingers over the different pictures. St. Edmund’s in Edinburgh would be cool. Living in a city that’s in the shadow of an ancient volcano? Definitely something different.
Then there’s St. Leonard’s, a big sprawling redbrick building on the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. It’s not far from St. Andrew’s, which is also beautiful, and wow, they’re really big on saints in Scotland, I realize.
Gregorstoun is a former manor house, this gorgeous brick building rising out of the hills, with ivy-covered walls and a very Hogwarts vibe. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it, idly searching schools in Scotland over a year ago.
I pull the paper closer to me, then realize it’s gotten quiet in the kitchen.
When I glance up, Dad is looking at me, a funny expression on his face.