London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  My dad lets out a chuckle. “No assignment is ever easy, son. But it is an assignment, and at an up-and-coming magazine, no less. You shouldn’t miss out on an opportunity because you’re afraid of this girl.”

  “I’m not afraid of her. I just hate everything she embodies, if that’s even possible.” What the heck am I saying? I don’t even know her. I probably shouldn’t judge her so harshly, but still. I can already tell this girl is drama with a capital D. “Well, I guess I’ll consider it a challenge then.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Mum says.

  “And you never know, this girl might just surprise you,” Dad adds.

  I roll my eyes at them. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Camille

  “I’m going to Costa Rica,” I gush to my parents, who sit across the table from me at our favorite Italian restaurant in the Upper West Side. I’m more excited than I’ve ever been in my life and have been dying all day to tell them the news.

  “What are you talking about, Camille?” my father asks, setting down the glass of champagne I’d instructed him to hold up so I could make a toast.

  “I had a meeting with Fashion Forward earlier today. The Fashion Forward. They saw my blog, want me to be featured in their magazine, and are sending me to Costa Rica. All expenses paid.”

  “Oh dear,” my mother says, placing two fingers against her temple and downing her champagne.

  “I don’t know about this, Camille,” my father interjects, motioning toward my mother. “She’s already worried sick.”

  “Mom, I will be fine. Don’t worry about me. It’s going to be so much fun.” I take Mom’s hand in mine, her jeweled rings cool against my skin.

  “First,” my mother says holding up her finger, “you’re only eighteen. You can’t travel to Central America alone. I also don’t think you will like it. You’re my daughter. Camping for you is a four-star hotel.”

  “Mom, Costa Rica is beautiful, and I won’t be alone. I’ll have a tour guide and a photographer with me.”

  “Who I assume you don’t know,” Mom counters. I notice Dad isn’t saying much. Mom’s the kind of person who has to talk through what she’s thinking before she makes a final decision. My dad takes in all the facts before he does. “Surely you can do a nice article for them closer to home. Somewhere nice and safe.”

  “Not only am I going to be featured in their magazine, this is going to make my blog and YouTube channel explode. I thought you would be excited for me. This is an incredible opportunity,” I argue.

  “Yes, well, I suppose it is,” she says, hopefully warming to the thought. “Fashion Forward is a reputable company. Congratulations, sweetie. It’s a great honor to be asked.”

  “Tell me the details,” Dad says, while Mom pulls out her phone and taps buttons. “What would you be doing for them?”

  “It’s a week-long trip, and I’ll be doing all sorts of things. And can you believe they are sending a photographer to take pictures of me?” I grin at my parents. My mom gives me a quick smile, but she’s focused on her phone, which is a little irritating.

  “Did they give you a contract?” Dad asks. “It’s important that they spell out exactly how the trip’s expenses will be addressed, any compensation you would receive, and, of utmost importance, your safety. We really can’t approve of this trip until we know more details.”

  “We can’t approve of this trip at all,” Mom interjects, her eyes bulging. “I’ve just been looking up information about Costa Rica. And this is actual information from our government. It says that crime is increasing in Costa Rica. That while petty theft and pickpocketing is the most common, armed robberies are occurring in broad daylight. And listen to this, a tour bus was broken into and tourists’ luggage was stolen while they were white water rafting. I’m sorry, Camille, but there’s no way you are going on this trip.”

  I panic. They can’t tell me not to go. How could they not be thrilled for me? I don’t understand.

  My father rests his hand on top of my mom’s. “There’s pickpocketing in any and every city, including our own New York City.” He turns to me. “Camille, that means you must always be aware of your belongings and your surroundings. You have to promise to not put yourself in any precarious situations.”

  The fact that he’s making me promise is a good sign. I mean, I’m eighteen. I just finished my freshman year at college. I live on my own. It’s not that I need their permission to go or anything, but I want it. I’m very close to my parents, and I want them to be proud of me. To be just as excited as I am.

  “I promise,” I say sincerely. “I am a little nervous about doing this, but it’s just such an incredible opportunity. Can you believe your daughter is going to be published in an international magazine? Did you ever think something like this would happen?”

  “Absolutely,” my dad says, picking his champagne glass back up. “Here’s to our baby getting her first assignment and going on her first real adventure. Your mother and I are very proud.” I’m touched when I notice a tear shimmering in his eye.

  “Thank you,” I tell them. “You have no idea how much your support means to me.” I raise my glass of sparkling cider and toast them.

  Mom says, “Now that we’ve decided you’re going, give us the details. Where were you when you got the call? What did they say?”

  I proudly give them all the details I can remember.

  DAY ONE

  Camille

  I drag my bag into the airport, trying hard not to trip when my wedges hit the carpet. I scurry up to the counter, throwing my backpack onto the ground and fishing through it until I find my wallet.

  “Hi. Camille Caldwell,” I say to the woman behind the counter.

  “Where are you flying to, Camille?” she asks professionally as I hand her my passport.

  “San José,” I excitedly reply and try my best to get my bag up onto the scale. It weighs in at a whopping forty-nine point five pounds. I let out a sigh of relief, thankful I made it under the fifty pound limit. “How long is the flight?”

  “You’re on a direct flight. So five and a half hours.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her as she clicks away on the keyboard, her eyes rarely leaving the screen. “It’s actually pretty cool, I get to go for work.” I’m so proud. I want to tell the world about my trip. But my dad went over the contract with me and warned me about the confidentiality agreement the magazine made me sign. I can tell people I’m working for them, but I’m not allowed to say much about the upcoming article.

  “How nice,” she says, giving me a curt smile.

  “Yeah. I’m so excited. I’m doing a piece for a magazine, you may have heard of it, Fashion Forward.” A grin spreads across my face. “It’s all just so surreal. I can’t believe I’m finally leaving today.”

  “Here’s your boarding pass,” she says, sliding my passport across the counter along with it. “Have a good trip, and congratulations.”

  I get absorbed in a good romance book, and before I know it, we’re touching down in San José.

  I make my way toward baggage claim, buzzing with excitement—possibly due to a few too many coffees on the plane. As I exit the terminal door, I see people waiting for their baggage at the carousels. My eyes land on a small white piece of paper with Caldwell written on it. I look up from the sign, taking in the casual attire of the man who is picking me up. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a crisp blue polo which stands out brightly against his tanned skin and dark hair. His look is much different from the black-suited drivers in New York.

  “Hi, I’m Camille!”

  He greets me with a warm, white-toothed smile. “Hola. My name is Diego. I’m your tour guide.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, and he leads me over to belt two. I spot my purple bag, and as it moves by I grab onto it. Diego has to help me a little, but I manage to get the thing onto the ground, and soon enough he is leading me out the door.

  “Have you been to Costa Rica before?” he asks as
we wait for our car to pull up.

  “No, I haven’t. But I’m so excited to be here. It was sort of a last minute thing, but I can’t wait for all the different activities.” I smile. I’m so excited. Okay, maybe I said that already.

  “I’m glad. Costa Rica is a beautiful country, and I think you’ll have a wonderful time.”

  “So, is the photographer meeting us here? I wasn’t exactly sure about the details,” I ask, trying to make a little conversation.

  “No. Adam got in earlier today and is already at the lodge. You will get to meet him and Manuel, another guide, very soon. Manuel is leading a group that will be staying at the lodge tonight, and you will be partnered up with them for certain activities during your time here.”

  “That sounds like fun.” I notice a rickety looking van-bus thing pull up to the curb in front of us. I’m a little taken aback and extremely underwhelmed. I was expecting something a little more, um, grand, but apparently this is it because Diego takes my bag around to the back and ushers me to get onto the bus. I’m greeted by another tanned face.

  “Welcome to Costa Rica. My name is Manuel. I will be your driver for your stay here. It’s wonderful to meet you.” He’s younger than Diego, and his hair is much longer. He has a prominent jaw and model-like, high cheekbones. And his smile is contagious.

  “Hi, I’m Camille. It’s great to meet you, as well.”

  When I get onto the bus, I realize I’m not the only one on it. There is a family already seated. I pass by four adults and one child as I make my way back to an empty seat. It’s really hot outside, but all the windows are cracked open and there is nice breeze flowing through.

  The little boy who was sitting a few rows up comes walking down the aisle, taking a seat next to me. “I’m Jimmy. I’m on an adventure with my mom and dad and my papa and my aunt. Are you on an adventure, too?”

  He is so stinking cute. “I am. I get to explore Costa Rica for a magazine and write an article about my adventure. Isn’t that cool?”

  “It is. Papa, come meet—what’s your name?”

  “Camille.”

  “Come meet Camille.”

  His grandfather turns around. “Well, hello there, Camille,” he says in a deep, booming voice. “I’m Earl, Earl Johnson. It’s wonderful to meet you, miss.” He has a sun hat resting on his knee and wears a light cotton shirt.

  “And you,” I reply, smiling. “Where are you from?”

  “We’re from Texas,” the little boy shouts, although I could have guessed where he was from based on his adorable accent.

  “Really? I’ve never been to Texas. I’m from New York.”

  Diego interrupts our conversation, getting our attention from the front of the bus. “Hello everyone, I just wanted to introduce myself one more time. My name is Diego, and I will be one of your tour guides during your stay here in Costa Rica. We have a forty-minute drive to Atenas, which is where the lodge is located. I wanted to give you a little background information on my great country.” I quickly get my notepad out of my backpack as he starts speaking. “Costa Rica is called home by over four million people. We also have over sixty volcanoes, six of which are still active.”

  The boy whispers to me, “I can’t wait to go hike the volcano. We might even get to see lava shoot out everywhere!”

  His grandpa turns around to hush him, but I notice he’s quietly chuckling to himself.

  I take a moment to glance out the window. The sun has just set, but there is enough light to make out a gorgeous countryside rife with tropical plants and rolling hills covered in fog. As we travel further away from the city, I can’t help but think about the contrast between the rickety little fiesta bus and the pristine looking landscape.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Diego’s voice. “Costa Rica is home to over five percent of the world’s biodiversity, and a quarter of our land is protected as wildlife refuges, parks, and reserves.” I jot those stats in my notebook, thinking ahead to the article I will write. I picture seeing my name on the byline. It’s like a dream come true.

  “Monkeys are the most common mammal in Costa Rica and the four most common species are howler, spider, squirrel, and white-faced. The second most common mammal is the bat. Rice and beans are staples in our diet.”

  Jimmy’s grandpa whispers back to us, “All this talk of food is making me hungry. We might have to get ourselves a snack once we get to the lodge.” The little boy agrees. Their connection is clear, and it warms my heart. The little boy leaves me to sit on his grandpa’s lap.

  “Females are called Ticas and males Ticos. Oh, and one final thing before we get to the lodge,” Diego says as a wood-framed building comes into view. “We have a saying here in Costa Rica. It’s Pura Vida. Simply translated, it means pure life, but it is so much more profound than that. It’s a philosophy that encourages one to appreciate life’s simple treasures and live life to the fullest.”

  We slow to a stop and everyone starts to stand up. I get introduced to Jimmy’s mother, Vivianne, his aunt Nancy, and his father, Floyd.

  I take in the view as I hop off the bus. If this lodge in any indication, Costa Rica must be quite beautiful.

  Adam

  I’m floating alone in the pool when I see dust clouds rise from below, where the bend in the road is, shortly followed by Diego’s rickety little bus barreling to a stop in front of the lodge. A family exits and then she walks out. It’s easy to spot Camille, because she’s wearing a big floppy hat and sky-high wedges. I wonder if she knows how ridiculous she looks.

  Apparently, she doesn’t, because she looks very happy as she laughs at something the small boy standing next to her said. His face is glowing with a wide smile, and even though he appears to only be about nine, he obviously has a crush on her.

  It’s not like me to dislike someone based on the way they dress, but I can’t help it. Just look at her. She has no idea what she is in for. As Manuel starts unloading bags, I easily spot the one that must be hers. It’s a huge roller bag that looks stuffed to the brim. I can’t help but chuckle to myself as I watch her struggle to roll it across the gravel drive.

  It must weigh a ton.

  Everyone else grabs their small bags and carries them easily up the stairs to the lodge. Camille stands there, staring at the stairs like she’s being forced to climb Devil’s Tower with no rope. She’s looking back and forth between her bag and the stairs.

  I watch as she gets a determined look on her face, wobbles a little, but drags the suitcase up a few of the stairs. I’m actually impressed she makes it that far before Diego comes up and grabs the bag from her. Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem to want his help. I notice a little spunk in her. Interesting.

  But then Diego points in my direction. Oh bloody hell, no. Why did he have to do that? With the sunset you can barely see me hiding out in the dark water, and I’d hoped to keep it that way.

  I slowly sink down as far as I can into the water, but I see her head whip around, and she throws a wave and grin in my direction. I wave a finger back at her. Not the middle finger I wanted to give Diego for pointing me out, just a little pathetic wave. She looks like she is about to head toward me but, thankfully, Diego ushers her forward and up into the lodge.

  I decide to get out of the pool. Maybe if I switch to the hot tub, she won’t find me. As I ease my body into the warm water, my muscles instantly relax. It feels wonderful. I arrived in Costa Rica just after lunch and was able to get some great shots of the lush property surrounding the lodge. My trip wasn’t long since I flew in from Belize. I decided to come down to Central America a day early to get in extra photos for my portfolio. I even met up with a local photographer in Belmopan that my dad has worked with before, and camped with him in the jungle for a night. It was an amazing experience.

  I lay my head back against the cool stone and remind myself again why I took this job.

  Keep reading Girl off the Grid.

  ndon Prep