by Emily Bow
Peppa came around them and stood in front of me, blocking my view, which was super annoying because while I could easily hear the lowered voice British argument going on behind her, I couldn’t see their expressions. I couldn’t help. “Internships officially ended at close of business today. You’re not my problem anymore. You’re free to your evening.” Peppa was dismissing me. “Rooms should be vacated by Sunday. You should probably go and start packing.”
Wythe and I were a team, but I didn’t know how to handle this situation. I moved, walking to the doorway like I was leaving.
Peppa turned back to the PM, holding a pose like a parishioner waiting for a wafer. I picked a spot where the hall opened and leaned against it to eavesdrop. I needed to understand the situation to help Wythe fix it.
“I’ll have an explanation of your actions, Wythe,” the Prime Minister said. “Peppa says it’s been hours.”
“The driver sold out my location.” He looked at Peppa, and added only, “I’ll have a new driver.” It was a particularly English way of saying the guy had betrayed him, put him at risk, in danger…and his guards hadn’t caught it.
“Your driver will be transferred.” The PM nodded. “Peppa can sort it.”
I wanted to yell about how the driver had taken a bribe, how Peppa had used him, but I didn’t. I didn’t get it, but I was following Wythe’s lead on this, though I didn’t understand his reaction at all. He wore a cold expression, and he didn’t search me out with his gaze. It was as if crossing the threshold to this place had wiped away our partnership. Class was over. The internship was over. A hollow ache took hold in my stomach.
“The guards will be reviewed. You’ll be expected here until the change can be made.” The PM went to the door but turned back to him. “I’m going to need some compromise here, Wythe. An answer today. Saturday’s ball?”
“I’ll be in attendance.”
Would he? We hadn’t talked about it.
“And your date? Peppa says you haven’t given a name?”
“Does she?” Wythe’s voice was tight. “Well, she can just put her own name down.”
What? I almost stepped out in the open at that nonsense.
The PM blinked. “Wythe.”
Wythe’s jaw was tight, and he was walking past his mom now, but I could still hear him. “As you said, Peppa can sort it.”
Chapter 21
I didn’t move. I stood there in my eavesdropping spot feeling as if the century’s old floor had dissolved under me. Peppa? Peppa! What had just happened?
“Do sort it out, Peppa.” The PM left.
Peppa came up to me, knowing exactly where I was standing. “You look so forlorn.”
I swallowed and tried to blank my expression. I didn’t care to have her pick over my emotions like a buzzard on the highway.
She arched her blond eyebrows. “Oh. Did you think you’d be invited Saturday? To the ball? That he’d say your name?”
I said nothing, but I blinked and felt the hollow in my stomach expand to my chest. I had to get out of there.
“You’ve never understood how things work here. Not truly.” Her gray eyes glinted. “Balls. Westminster events. These things are for the English. You’re American. You were never going to be invited.”
I hadn’t said I thought I would be invited. My breaths shallowed because I couldn’t get them past the bubble in my throat.
Peppa’s condescending expression turned pitying. “Your duties with Wythe are complete. You may leave.”
What could I say to that? Was this how it ended? Because it didn’t feel like an end or closure. It made me mad and I welcomed the feeling. Anger burned away the hollow in my chest.
I knew what mattered. She and I might be done. The class might be done. The internship might be done. The summer might be done.
But Wythe and me?
We were not done.
I stomped upstairs. When I reached my door, my cell phone beeped an incoming text. Wythe. My head shook in instinctive rejection and my hand tightened on the phone. I needed to work out how to handle this. My intern duties were officially over. I didn’t have to respond until I was ready to respond.
Instead of going in my room, I went down the hall and tapped on Georgiana’s door. Too impatient to wait, I opened it a crack and stuck my head in.
Whoa.
The temperature of her room was chilly, and the room itself was like some freaky alternate universe version of mine. It was the “after” on an HGTV home décor show. All the décor was new and posh and pretty. It made the space seem bigger.
One more thing to dump on me today. I’d gotten a dog of a room.
“Want to come in?” Georgiana asked. She was curled up on her little blue velvet two-seater couch, wearing pajamas and a robe, and had been typing on her phone. She set it aside at my entry.
“Just wanted to see if you were interested in going to Regent Street with me tomorrow for some shopping?”
“Oh, yes.” Georgiana nodded. “For anything in particular or just retail therapy?”
“It’s a secret.”
Georgiana nodded harder. “Absolutely.”
I was no good with secrets. I slipped in and shut the door, but I kept my voice low. “For a dress for the ball.” I wiggled my fingers. “Maybe a manicure.”
Georgiana blinked. “Fun,” she said, and then she whispered, “Why is that a secret?”
“Because interns aren’t allowed at the ball.”
Georgiana pressed her lips together and looked at me, big-eyed. “Okay. Tomorrow at ten?”
“Ten it is.”
***
I met her the next morning. We headed out and got manicures and lunch. It was wonderful being away from the constraints of the household and walking the streets of London, loving how the white-gray limestone buildings curved along the street and how every other alleyway held a hidden treasure, just appreciating the city.
We went to several gown stores and browsed gorgeous things. None were “the one,” but there were plenty I’d be very happy to wear. All Wythe had seen me in this summer were casual clothes. The thought of dressing up had kind of an “in your face” thrill to it. Going out on a high note and the like. That’s how I’d leave here. I’d relish every second of that ball, and I’d make him regret not taking me.
I held an angular peach dress in front of me and looked in the mirror. “What do you think?”
Georgiana hung the poofy green dress she was eying and came over to me, her blue eyes narrowing. “Like the length, hate the shoulders, and that would be a lot to get altered before the event.” She wiggled her mouth left, then right. “If you can wait until tomorrow, I have some gowns coming to the house to look through. I know it seems risky, the day of the ball and all, but we’re not that far off in size. I know there will be one in the bunch that you’ll like.”
The bunch? “Why are there dresses being delivered?”
She looked uncertain, and then she said, “For me. To pick from. For the ball.”
The answer was confusing. She was American. Had she been invited by Wythe’s brother Zane? Was it only me who wasn’t invited? I fought off envy, and I didn’t want to poke further. It was one of those times I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, so I took the easy way out and asked nothing else.
We spent the rest of the day hitting the tourist shops and talking about anything but interning. I didn’t bring up the ball again.
***
The next morning, I got a text from Georgiana. They’re here. Squee. Join me.
I wanted to see the dresses, but I also wanted to get more sleep because going to bed with unanswered questions had led to a restless night. I yawned and went down the hall to her room.
Today her room seemed smaller because it was filled with racks of dresses. I scooted around one and met Georgiana on the couch. She held out a mimosa to me.
I accepted the drink, took a sip of the champagne and OJ, and sank down beside her. “What are we in for?”
Geo
rgiana sat straighter, and the mimosa or the champagne had her face glowing. “You’re going to love them. I couldn’t decide on the perfect dress. These are my final picks.”
Three ladies hovered around the gowns, sorting them, fluffing them, and muttering about security wrinkling them as they’d performed their search at the gate.
Georgiana handed me a grey puffy throw blanket, and I put it over my lap. Her cold room plus the chilled drink made me shiver. My side of the hallway definitely had less air conditioning going on.
“Caroline’s coming by.” Georgiana wore an indulgent expression. “I told Nanny to give us an hour first. I thought we’d do the serious business of picking without her here, and then we can do measurements for the adjustments while she goes through the dresses.”
She must have planned this ages ago. How was she going to the ball? “I’m sorry, Georgiana, I gotta ask… Peppa said interns wouldn’t be invited. She made it very clear. So, how are you invited?”
Georgiana wrinkled her nose and tilted her mimosa glass to and fro, watching the orange liquid swirl through the crystal instead of looking at me. Her face pinked further. “Errr, how are you invited?”
Evasive. That made me feel weird. I clutched the puffy throw blanket, squeezing my fingers into its warmth. “I’m not invited. Not at all.”
“Ohh.” Georgiana made an appreciative sound and looked up. Her robin’s egg eyes were big and somewhat admiring. “And you’re going anyway?”
“I’m going to try. Sorry, you’re as New World as me, and I was told no Americans.”
“That’s right.” Georgiana spoke slowly and put her glass down. She scooted back on the couch, put her feet on the edge of the cushion, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “This ball is aristocracy, insiders, and English…and the hidden exception to those rules.” She made air quotations around the word “exception” and then clasped her hands together.
Ohh. What was the exception?
One of the dressmakers paraded forward before I got the answer, rolling a single dress rack with a full ballgown hooked on front. She had her chin in the air and looked at us like we should bow down.
Georgiana moved back to a more ladylike pose. Feet on the floor, knees folded to the side. The formal, uncomfortable pose that was only required for bridal showers or baby showers or when I had to impress some older relative.
The second dressmaker came forward, too, motioning from us to the gowns. She seemed eager to please. “And now, Miss, the first dress is a waterfall sunshine silk with billowing ruffles like yellow waves.” She motioned a third lady forward, who had another single dress rack. “And this slinky scarlet number could never hide a pocket. It says sex on a hanger.”
Georgiana covered her mouth, and then whispered in my ear, “It’s either sea princess or whore.”
“Uh, is there any middle ground?” Because if I had to choose, in the mood I was in, I might not make the tasteful choice.
“They are gorgeous, right miss?” The second lady said.
They were, but very different.
Georgiana and I made appropriate murmurs, and Georgiana explained that we wanted to see them all. She asked, and they obeyed. A rainbow of dresses came off the rack, and the dressmaker featured them individually for us. Each gown had a named designer, each was unique, and each was beautiful in a different way.
It was really fun, and like nothing I’d done before. Midway through, my favorite dress came out. A dreamy shade of blue. Slinky, but in a silky way.
Georgiana grabbed my arm. “That’s the one for you.”
I didn’t know if she’d read my expression or heard it calling to me the way I did. The top was strapless. Crystals dripped from the bodice and swirled throughout the almost liquid blue skirt. It was stunning.
I could not afford that dress. I crossed my fingers. “Are these rentals?”
“My treat,” Georgiana said. “I think I’m in love with the pink one… unless you wanted it?”
I shook my head. I would have picked the blue gown every day of the week. Now that we were choosing, the price tag possibilities were becoming real. Designer dresses were way beyond my price point, so much so that I wasn’t even embarrassed. This had been a wonderful dream though. “These are designer dresses. I’m going to need to come up with an alternate plan.”
Georgiana flushed and looked down. “Ladies, do you mind giving us a second?”
The dressmakers went back to fussing over the dresses. Despite their different demeanors, they all had the same concern for the clothes.
“The other people invited to the ball…the exception to the rules… I’m one of them.” Georgiana flushed harder.
I tilted my head and I leaned in. “And that exception is…?” I really had no clue.
“The filthy rich,” she whispered.
“Ah.” I’d have guessed the excessively eager before I’d have guessed filthy rich.
Georgiana bit her lip, and her eyes pleaded with me not to be angry. “I didn’t say anything…about my…” She shrugged. “Money. Because I don’t.”
I waved a hand. “I get it. I wouldn’t share that info either.” That kind of money belonged to people of two extremes. Those who made sure everyone knew they had bank and those who kept it private. Though redoing her room, which I was now guessing she had done, wasn’t that private. But the location was secure; it wasn’t like we had guests over.
Georgiana popped off the couch and held out her hands to pull me up. “Now we try them on. You can be my plus one to the ball.”
“I…”
“We both know you wouldn’t have gotten through security. Not here. Not at this.” She grinned. “And I’ll love seeing Peppa’s face when you walk in.”
I debated for a second. I really did. Then I smiled thanks at Georgiana. “Deal.” I’d share her invitation, but I wasn’t okay with her treating me to a dress. “Just the invite though.”
Georgiana twirled a strand of her blonde hair between two of her fingers and checked the ends as if looking for splits. “Did you borrow clothes from your roommates in college?”
“All the time.”
She dropped her hair and held open her palms. “Okay, then.”
That comparison worked for me. I would have loaned her anything from my closet. She felt the same. I now had a gown and a ticket.
A sense of reality hit me—my plan was working. I was going to the ball. I let my grin widen and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks.”
***
All the interns convened for the last time Saturday morning in the assembly room so some secretary for the Prime Minister could thank us for our efforts this summer. Peppa had already sent a briefing email doing the same.
I shifted and looked around the room. Did the other interns look any different, any older? Any wiser?
Was I any different?
I wasn’t jetlagged. I wasn’t late. Was that all I could say for myself? If I thought hard about it, I knew it wasn’t. I’d seen Britain in a way I hadn’t with my family. With adult, independent eyes. With a genuine new appreciation. And taking this break from my sister’s emails had been enlightening…peace-giving.
Georgiana peeped around the corner, and I waved her over. She took the seat beside me and folded her hands over her knees in her perfect lady-like posture.
“Summer’s over,” I said. “I was not the best intern.” My words came out dryly like it didn’t matter.
She shrugged. “Me either.”
“Are you staying on in London after this weekend?”
Georgiana looked down at her phone, tightened her grip on it, and then put it in her handbag. “There’s some family stuff back home I need to attend to. I’ll leave after the ball.”
“Anything I can do?”
She shook her head. “It’s kind of big. I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with it all when I get home.”
I didn’t push, and we talked about home a bit, where we lived in Texas, what we missed from home. It was more
and less than I expected. I missed talking to my sister more than I thought I would. But I didn’t miss the negativity. I missed Texas, too—the endless blue sky, the knowing how things worked, my friends.
Peppa went to the front of the room, and the chatter and our reminiscing stopped. “Your time as interns has come to an end.” Peppa spoke from the podium, and she sounded almost sad about it. She hadn’t looked happy since I met her, but now she looked bummed that the summer was ending. “As former interns, you have a badge of honor to wear for the rest of your life. Honor it. The weight can be heavy some days. For any time your name is mentioned in the media, good or ill, it will be associated with this office. Every job application will ask about it. Every time. Do us proud.”
The crowd clapped.
Georgiana unclipped her hair, fluffed it, and looked at the exit.
“Now, give a hand to our top interns as they proceed out to the gardens. And let’s not forget those not on the top. All contributions have had value. Our thanks to every one of you as you continue on your life’s journey.”
We all clapped. Even those of us with just two points like me. The non-top interns. I admitted to some envy as the top interns left. But giving up the last public function, the play, to ensure Wythe did well in his class. It had been the right decision.
Though it still hurt.
Peppa caught up with us by the rear exit. “A moment, Kira.”
Georgiana escaped with a small wave.
I hung back, and a flicker of hope winked inside me. It would make life simpler if I was in that photo. But it was Peppa, so those I didn’t let myself hope.
Peppa stared at the open doorway rather than looking at me.
“Something you wanted?”
Peppa’s mouth twisted, and she shook her head, almost looking… What was that? Guilt? She looked like Trapper did when he’d done something bad and didn’t want to confess. Peppa said, “Congratulations on doing well in class.”
I clasped my hands together. “Thanks.”
“Well, I, uh, the interns are meeting in the garden for the photo.”
No shit. It had been making me sick to my stomach from the second I woke up knowing that would be today.