“You’re not about to tell me I look like Mom, are you?” I ask, and he smiles a little, shaking his head.
“No, you actually look like Vi—which, remembering her teenage years, gives me heartburn.”
Then he points his spatula at my papers.
“Go ahead and apply,” Dad says. “If you get the aid, we’ll deal with the rest of it.”
“When I get it,” I correct, picking up my pen and pointing it at Gus, who crows at me before tossing his spoon to the floor.
“When.”
CHAPTER 5
For the next two weeks, there’s always a little bit of my head in Scotland, waiting and wondering. I sent in the financial aid papers the day after my talk with Dad, complete with an essay on why I am the perfect Gregorstoun Girl (it mostly consisted of “Look at my GPA and PSAT scores”). I rewatched The Seas of Time, I read guidebooks, and I started imagining myself wearing a lot more plaid.
But other than that constant low-level buzz of “Scotland Scotland Scotland” in my head, the summer unfolds as usual. Friends, babysitting Gus, working at the library three days a week.
Avoiding Jude.
That’s been easy enough to do, since she and Mason are Very Much Back On, so she isn’t spending nearly as much time with Lee and Darce as she usually would.
Well, not as much time with Lee, at least. I’ve seen a few pictures of her with Darcy on Instagram, and my last text to Darce has been on “Read” for two days with no answer.
So mostly I just wait and hope. Gregorstoun is supposed to send a letter letting me know how much of my tuition they’re prepared to pay for—so old-school of them—which means I stalk the mailbox every day, wishing I hadn’t waited until so late to apply for financial aid, wishing I hadn’t let my relationship with Jude dictate such a massive life decision. I check the mailbox again as I head out for the library on a hot morning in late July, but it’s too early for the mail to have come.
The library is only a few blocks from my house, hence a lot of its appeal as a job, and I park my car in the employee lot. It’s technically Anna’s car, but I get to use it on the weekends, which is nice.
As I get out of the car, one of the librarians, Mrs. Ramirez, is just unlocking the front door, and she waves at me.
“Any news?” she asks, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. With her cool haircut and hot pink glasses, Mrs. Ramirez is total #goals, and I wish I had good news for her.
“Nothing yet,” I tell her. “But there’s still time.”
Her face creases into a grimace of sympathy as she reaches out to pat my shoulder. “Any school that doesn’t shower you with scholarships isn’t worth going to,” she says. I smile at her, but it wobbles a little.
“Definitely my thought,” I reply before moving into the library.
I’m on reshelving duty today, so once I’ve signed in, I make my way to the back room, grabbing the metal cart full of returns, which I start pushing through the stacks.
After an hour or so, I’m in the back of the library, my favorite place to be, where the smell of old books is the strongest. It’s quiet here, which is always a plus, and it’s one of the coolest spots in the whole building.
I mean that literally. The air-conditioning seems to blow harder here than anywhere else in the library.
I’m supposed to be reshelving some old reference books, but really, I’m checking my email every five seconds. Maybe I won’t get an acceptance letter through snail mail. Maybe there will be an email after all. Even old-fashioned boarding schools in the Scottish Highlands have to be part of the twenty-first century, right?
But other than a text from Lee asking if I want to get fro-yo later (I do, obviously), my phone is silent.
I’ve just shelved the last book on my cart when I hear footsteps.
It’s probably someone wanting to use one of the study rooms, but it could also be people looking for a private spot to do . . . whatever (trust me, I’ve seen it all), so I steel myself for either/or.
But it’s not a studious college kid or horny high schoolers.
It’s my dad.
And there’s a letter in his hand.
“Is it . . . ?” I ask, but I know that it is. Dad would not have come all the way out here to give me junk mail.
And when he turns the envelope to face me, I see the Gregors- toun unicorn up there in the corner.
“Omigod,” I say softly, and Dad nods.
“Oh my god, indeed.”
I take a few steps forward, my hand outstretched, and Dad gives me a little grin.
“Millie, you know this is just a school, right? This isn’t your Hogwarts letter.”
“And you’re not an owl,” I remind him, “but this is absolutely the closest thing I’m ever going to get to a Hogwarts letter, so hand it over.”
Dad does, but his grin slips just a little bit. “Millipede, if they’re not offering you anything, we can still find a way to make it work. Or we can try to.”
I make myself smile back, even though it’s hard. I have to have gotten a scholarship. Gregorstoun was calling to me for some reason, I know it, and places don’t call just to reject you, right?
But my hands still shake as I open the envelope, my chest tight as my eyes scan the letter, landing on Pleased to offer you a full scholarship for the upcoming—
The scream I let out probably causes at least three heart attacks in the reading room, and I hear one of the old guys in the soft chairs give a startled “Hoozit?”
Clapping my hand over my mouth, I look at Dad, but he’s laughing silently, his shoulders shaking as he wipes at his eyes with one hand.
“I’m guessing you got it, then?” he asks when he’s done cracking up, and I look back at the paper, rereading carefully, hoping I didn’t misread it because I wanted it so badly. But nope, there it is in black and white.
Full ride, room and board, everything covered.
I’m going to Scotland.
Oh.
I’m going to Scotland.
OOOOOOH Y’AAAAALLLLL!!
I have some INTERESTING NEWS TO REPORT! Okay, so you know how Prince Seb went to that Fancy But Totally Terrifying Boarding School in the Highlands? One of those places where your roommate is probably a sheep and you have to get up at 4 a.m. every day? WELL.
It looks like Seb is DONE WITH THAT. St. Edmund’s Academy in Edinburgh just announced that Seb is doing his last year of school with them, and APPARENTLY the tea is that Queen Clara wants Seb muuuuuuch closer to home, what with the Big Wedding Kicking Off in December. You angels remember what happened last summer, right? With Boring Prince Alex becoming UNBORING for a hot minute, and knocking Seb into the dirt? Appears THAT little drama got Seb sentenced to Life Under Mum’s Nose.