Up Over Down Under

by Micol Ostow

  “I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon,” she added, briefly wondering if that was true. Or why she cared, for that matter. She’d never even met Eliza, and up until now, Parker had only been a bloke at her internship.

  Heather shook her head softly, just outside of Parker’s view. Then she rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah,” Parker said shortly. “She just needs space, you know, to adjust over there....” He abruptly trailed off, as though afraid of having revealed too much. “Anyway,” he said, sighing and changing the subject, “you wanted to write?”

  “Well, yeah, Ms. Franklin suggested it,” she said, wondering why she was suddenly feeling so shy. “Just, you know, as a more creative platform…”

  “So, you want to do, like an op-ed piece?”

  “Right.” Billie nodded. “About conservation. You know, what we can do, and how much, literally, of a difference each of our decisions makes every day.”

  “Are you going to mention Proposition Seven?” Parker asked.

  “Um, I think so,” Billie replied. “I was going to maybe look at a side-by-side analysis of other states that have enacted clean-water programs, and talk about the benefits of federal funding versus volunteer efforts.” Parker shrugged. “Works for me.”

  Aces, Billie thought. From where she still sat, Heather nodded, echoing her agreement.

  He shook her hand, making their agreement that much more official. “Five hundred words. By Thursday, five P.M., if possible.”

  “Too right!” Billie smiled. “No worries.”

  Chapter Eleven

  From: park@email.com

  To: elizarit@email.com

  Subject: busy bee!

  Hey there—

  I’m assuming they’ve got you running in circles down there in the outback, based on your radio silence! Don’t worry—we’re all managing here without you—just barely. ☺

  I don’t know how much you’ve been e-mailing with the exchange student, Billie, but she and I and have been interning together, and yesterday she came by the newspaper wanting to write. She seems pretty cool. She’s really into the environment—I know, duh—but, like, even more so than a lot of the students here at Fairlawn. She’s doing a piece on the benefits of an all-volunteer clean-water act here in D.C., assuming there is one. For her sake, I kind of hope there is one—who knows what your father will think if she keeps going on about how bummed she is that the Chesapeake Bay cleanup has been postponed. That could be awkward.

  If you get a chance, shoot me a line. I want to hear how you’re doing. But in the meantime, as they say where you are: “No worries.”

  Parker

  It felt like Eliza had merely blinked, and before she knew it the two weeks since Macca invited her to the college party had flown by. She had traded e-mails with Parker in that time, and was glad to hear that he seemed to be having fun back home, but their exchange really served only to underscore how excited and eager she was to be spending more time in Australia with Macca.

  One thing she wasn’t excited about, though, was the tight rein that the Echolses still held over her. It wasn’t that they were mean, per se, but Eliza knew by this point that the Echolses did not look favorably on her being anywhere they couldn’t find her after sunset—the incident with her cell phone had only reinforced that belief. She couldn’t help but reflect on the fact that her own parents were, as a rule, much more lenient. Of course, she also had to admit to herself that, back in D.C., it was rare that she ever did anything after sunset that would give a parent pause. So there was that.

  Regardless, Eliza was certain that sneaking into college parties with strange boys was probably on the Echolses’ “forbidden” list. But bowing out was not an option. Therefore, she had, with Jess’s help, come up with a plan that involved equal parts cunning, conniving, and conspiracy. Now the day had come, and Eliza was in the midst of nervously executing her scheme.

  The girls had gone shopping the previous week. Eliza dipped into her spending money for a fabulous, funky black cocktail dress they’d uncovered at a thrift shop. She stashed it in Jess’s closet so as not to arouse suspicion. Eliza had gotten the Echolses’ permission to sleep over at Jess’s house that night. She had called Mr. Winstone late that afternoon and, in strained tones, had told him that she would be unable to make the morning sample collection on Saturday as she was laid up with a terribly sprained ankle from a sports accident.

  Now the pieces were all lined up in place, and all Eliza had to concentrate on was getting gorgeous for her Australian formal debut. Fortunately, Jess was in on those machinations, as well.

  “Here, you have to try these.” Jess held a pair of diamond studs up to her ears. Eliza was focused on adjusting the hemline of her dress, turning to one side and then the other and squinting at herself in the mirror, making sure it looked good from every angle. Finally, satisfied that she was absolutely, every bit as cute as she could be, she glanced up at Jess.

  “They’re gorgeous. Are you sure it’s all right for me to borrow them?”

  “Absolutely. They’ll look great on you; just don’t lose them, okay?”

  “Come on. You know me better than that.” She winked and held her right hand over her heart. “I do solemnly swear that I shall guard these earrings with my life.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Jess rolled her eyes. “Just get a move on ’cause you’re running late and you don’t want to keep Hugh Jackman waiting.”

  Eliza fastened the earrings, spritzed her hair with shine spray, and stealthily made her way downstairs and through the back door of Jess’s house with Jess in tow. They walked out to the main road, where the cab they’d called earlier was waiting. Eliza opened the passenger door and turned back to Jess.

  “How do I look?”

  “Fab. Now get out of here and have a corker of a night. Okay?”

  “Wish me luck.” Eliza gave Jess a hug and hopped into the cab.

  “Where to, miss?” asked the driver from the front seat.

  “Trinity College, please? Royal Parade.”

  “Going to a formal tonight?”

  “Yeah, I guess, I am. It’s my first.”

  “Good on ya’. You’re going to have a great night.”

  That’s the plan.

  The cab made it through the city in no time, and soon they were dodging trams as they headed up the tree-lined avenue she had first come down with the Echolses on the way in from the airport. They swerved out of the center lane and came to a stop outside the main gate to Trinity College.

  An ivy-covered stone wall surrounded the grounds, and the main gate was a large wrought-iron fence, like something out of a Tim Burton movie. The gate was open, and inside she could make out a lawn and some sprawling, Gothic-style buildings.

  Eliza paid the taxi driver, thinking again how glad she was that she’d been fairly frugal with her spending money, and stepped out of the car. There were a number of young people arriving at the same time—some walking from the other colleges, others in taxis and cars. Everyone looked so glamorous. The guys were all in tuxedos and the girls were in an assortment of cocktail dresses ranging from modest to extravagant. It was like being at the Oscars, if the Oscars were held at an Australian university. And attended only by actors twenty-two or under.

  Eliza had been to plenty of black-tie fund-raisers with her dad, but they were always boring functions in some banquet hall filled with government workers and, well, old people. She’d still never been to an American prom, so the idea of getting dressed up and going to a gala with people closer to her age made her feel very adult. Seeing everyone all glammed up, but with Macca nowhere in sight, Eliza was suddenly struck by a moment’s anxiety.

  What if this is a joke? Maybe he thought twice about inviting me, and brought another date? Or worse, maybe he stood me up. Maybe he isn’t here at all. Are they going to notice that I’m still just a high school student? Eliza remembered Macca’s advice from before and tried to act as if she belonged.

  Before she could l
et her thoughts completely get the best of her, she spotted Macca. He was standing off to one side of the front gate where they had planned to meet, leaning against the high stone wall of the college. He had one foot up against the wall, and his hands were thrust into the pockets of his tuxedo pants. He looked like an old photo of James Dean or something—gorgeous, and cool, and completely disaffected. As Eliza came up he spotted her and broke into a broad smile.

  “Well, don’t you look spunky?”

  “Excuse me?” Eliza asked. “Spunky” sounded more Orphan Annie than Academy Awards.

  “You look good. I mean…r-really good.”

  Was it possible that a boy as ruggedly cool as Macca could be nervous? How else to explain the stammering? Eliza allowed herself a moment to tick off a mental victory for herself.

  “Oh. Thank you. You look…nice.”

  It was an understatement, of course—but a girl had to keep some of her tricks to herself, didn’t she?

  “Come on. Things are getting started, and this night is fixing to go off!” Macca took her hand, looped it under his elbow, and began walking away from the gate.

  “We’re not going in?” Eliza asked.

  “No, we are, we just don’t have the proper invite, so my brother’s meeting us at a side gate to let us in.”

  Eliza’s stomach did a small flip of nervousness at the idea of even more subterfuge, but she pushed it aside, deciding not to be too bothered by this. Once they were inside, everything would be fine, she told herself.

  She and Macca walked along the outside of the wall to a parking lot, which they cut through until they’d found their way to the back of what looked like a dorm. Macca let her hand go, walked up to one of the ground-level windows, and pounded on it. A moment later the door opened.

  “Hamish!” came a yell from inside.

  “Oi!” Macca took Eliza by the hand, and they ducked inside. Holding the door open was a guy who looked like an older version of Macca. He gave young Macca a big hug and then turned to Eliza.

  “And you must be the Yank.”

  “Yes, I guess I must be.” Yank. It was better than spunky.

  “How you going? Good to meet ya’. I’m Piers, and this is Kate.” He gestured behind him at a striking girl with jet-black hair and bright green eyes, who in turn smiled at Eliza.

  “It’s very nice to meet you. Macca’s told me a lot about you,” Eliza said. Even if that wasn’t strictly true, she felt like it was the right thing to say.

  “Oh, yeah?” Piers looked dubious, but amused. “Well, first off, everything he said is a lie, and second, around here, he’s not Macca. He’s either Hamish or Little Mack.” Piers gave Eliza a big, toothy grin.

  “Well, I guess that makes you Big Mack?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Exactly.” Piers smirked. He turned to Hamish. “I like her.”

  “Well, hands off,” Macca countered. “She’s my date.”

  Flattered, Eliza smiled to herself. This night was going to be a total corker, for sure.

  As Big Mack and Kate led the way across the grounds to the party, Eliza got a good look at the college for the first time. It was a large quad with a broad green in the middle. On three sides were a series of large Gothic dorms like something out of Ye Olde England. The fourth side of the lawn was dominated by a large cathedral that was all graceful, soaring arches.

  Twinkling votives lined a path across the lawn and toward a building with a tall, ivy-shrouded tower and vibrant stained-glass windows that appeared to be the main building of the residential college.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Eliza as she took the whole scene in. She felt like Cinderella making her grand appearance at Prince Charming’s ball.

  “This is the bulpadock,” Big Mack explained. “We’re heading over to Bishops, the party is in the JCR.”

  “Bulpadock? JCR? I’m lost.”

  “This is the bulpadock.” Big Mack gestured to the large lawn. “It was where they kept the college cows in the old days. Hence ‘bull’ ‘paddock.’”

  “Aha.” Eliza decided it would be better just to go with things rather than spending the entire evening with her jaw hanging open. No overthinking was necessary in this case. She smiled at Macca, and he pulled her hand a little tighter against his side.

  They walked through the bulpadock to a long, low adjacent building with cloisters running on the lawn side. There were lights and music coming out of a large room at one end.

  Inside was a DJ on one side of the room and a fire-place and bar on the other. The students were gathered in clumps talking, joking, and dancing. Eliza looked around, expecting people to be staring at her, the American high school student, but in fact, no one seemed to take much notice one way or the other.

  The whole room had the feel of the dining hall at Hogwarts, if on a bit of a smaller scale. At the far end of the room was a dais where the senior faculty sat. A very old man, who appeared to be asleep, was perched in the middle of the table.

  “Who’s that guy?” Eliza asked Piers. “And why is he sleeping?”

  “He’s Dr. Stanley, the warden of Trinity. And I’m assuming he’s sleeping because he’s tired.”

  “The warden? Like at a prison?” Eliza blinked. That was just plain weird.

  “Well, yes, I suppose. But the real discipline is handled by the angry-looking guy next to him. That’s Mr. Cunningham, and he can make your life very unpleasant. But don’t worry, they clear out before long and usually don’t give us a hard time during the parties.” Eliza looked at the man and decided that he was someone she would prefer not to encounter under any circumstances.

  As Eliza was taking in the rest of the scene, a tall guy with blond hair, a broad smile, and a glass of red wine in one hand came up and smacked Macca on the back.

  “You wanker! I thought they wouldn’t let you in this place.”

  “I’m surprised they let you in, too,” Macca replied as the two guys gave each other a little bro hug. “Will, this is Eliza.”

  “Good to meet you! I thought this loser was making you up, but you are a far sight prettier than I imagined. What are you doing with a yobbo like this?” Will asked, jokingly poking Macca in the shoulder.

  “Buzz off. If you don’t have anything nice to say, you can get stuffed, mate!” Macca replied, taking an openhanded swipe at Will’s head. Will ducked out of the way and gave Eliza a wink.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Eliza said. Feeling bold, she added, “But one might ask what Macca is doing with you !”

  “Ahh,” Will said with a smile. “Now I see why he likes you.”

  Piers had gone to Geelong Grammar and was only a year ahead of Macca. Because of their closeness in age, Macca seemed to be good friends with a lot of his brother’s friends, and they were all surprisingly nice. It didn’t take long for Eliza to relax into the scene, and eventually, her lingering anxieties about all of the white lies she’d had to tell to get to the party in the first place completely evaporated from her mind.

  Everyone was interested in hearing about what living in Washington was like. She almost began to feel like she was taking a quiz, what with all of their questioning, but she didn’t mind so much; there was plenty of champagne going around, and after a few sips she had warmed to the gentle barrage.

  “Have you been to the White House?” (yes)

  “Have you met the president?” (no)

  “Have you been to the Australian Embassy?” (yes, for her student visa)

  Finally Macca came to her rescue. The music changed to a slow song, and he grabbed her by the hand.

  “May I have this dance?” he asked.

  “But of course,” Eliza replied, trying to stifle her smile. Macca pulled her close and spun around so they were now on the dance floor.

  He wasn’t the greatest dancer, but what he lacked in grace he made up for in charm. His arms were strong, and he made a grand show of spinning and dipping her. Somehow, his excess energy seemed to fit in with the spirit of the evening, as e
veryone was becoming more and more boisterous. Before she knew it, hours had passed, and the crowd was beginning to thin out. She and Macca had been dancing for a while, and the room had become hot and stuffy from the evening’s festivities.

  “You want to go outside and get a breath of fresh air?” Macca asked, reading Eliza’s mind.

  “Sure.”

  “Come on.” Macca took her by the hand and, grabbing a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, led her out the door.

  They walked around a corner and behind the building with the Gothic tower. Soon the narrow gravel path they were on opened into a garden of neatly ordered hedges and a variety of flowering plants that were not quite in bloom.

  Eliza was in heaven. It was crisp, but not cold, and Macca’s hand was warm around hers. The moon was out, and the air was sweet with early spring flowers. The night couldn’t have been more perfect if she’d planned it herself.

  Macca dropped her hand, poured a glass of wine, and held it out to her.

  “I don’t need any more,” Eliza said. She was having enough fun without it and wanted to be clearheaded so as to take in the whole evening in crystal-clear detail.

  “Just to toast,” Macca prompted. “It’s bad luck to toast empty-handed.” He poured her a tiny glass and then held up his fuller glass.

  “To a wonderful evening with the finest Yankee bird I’ve ever met.” He clinked his glass gently against hers.

  Eliza took a tiny sip, in accordance with the Hamish MacGreggor Laws of Toasting. “Have you met a lot of Yankee birds?”

  “No. You caught me.” He grinned. “But you’re still my favorite, hands down.”

  “Glad I could beat out all of those other imaginary Americans that you’ve been seeing,” she teased. “Well, here’s to a wonderful evening with new friends and the finest Aussie bloke I’ve ever met.” This time she didn’t drink. Her toast, her rules.