“I’ll be right outside London, so I’ll definitely befrequenting.”
“You guys are going to UCL, too?” A guy on the other side of the railing in their crisscrossing line leaned over into their conversation. “Nice!”
Rafe asked the other kids around him. They were all UCL, and two Oxfords. Showoffs. Rafe got a sinking feeling weighing him down, or maybe that was thejetlag.
“Is everyone going to UCL?” he asked, almost indesperation.
“Looks like it.” The girl shrugged. “But you’ll get a really authentic experience in…what school are you studyingat?”
* * *
Rafe couldn’t dodgethe sinking feeling that he’d made some big mistake. It followed him through customs, where the agent chastised him for not having his passport out and ready. It continued at baggage claim, where the other Americans in his program squealed about being in London and discussed bars to go to. Some kids didn’t wait and picked up drinks at the airport bar. The legal drinking age in England was eighteen, not twenty-one. But not even that could erase the anxiety roiling around inRafe.
Outside, busses were lined up waiting for all the students. The names of the colleges were on signs in the front window. Rafe didn’t even marvel at the bus drivers sitting on the passenger side. Most kids piled into the UCL bus. Rafe walked to the end of the waiting area, past the coach busses, to a white van with a sign reading Stroude scratched in badpenmanship.
“Going to Stroude?” The driver asked, almost surprised. He had a thick accent, choked with phlegm and cigarette smoke. The first non-sexy accent Rafe had encountered. “You…” He checked his list. “Rafe?”
“Yes.”
“Fantastic.” The driver loaded his suitcases in the trunk. “We are allset.”
“What about theothers?”
He rechecked his list. “There are no others, mate. Justyou.”
Rafe wanted to talk to someone in his program, a group leader, but the two women in charge were ensconced with the UCL students. Rafe unleashed another yawn that ripped through his lungs, but he wasn’t tired. Exhaustion weighed down his body, but adrenaline kept him wired. He was in a new world, and he had no idea what was goingon.
“You ready to go?” the driverasked.
“I guessso.”
“Did you use theloo?”
“What?”
“Thebathroom.” The driver laughed to himself. “You Yanks are so formal. You should use the toilet. It’s a bit of a drivethere.”
“I thought it was only a few miles outsideLondon.”
“Maybe on a map, but with traffic, it’ll take about anhour.”
I have made a bigmistake.
“Don’t be nervous. You’ll have a good time over here,” the driver said, seeming to sense his mood. “We Brits will treat youwell.”
“Thanks.” Even though this driver didn’t know him, it didn’t sound like an empty promise. Rafe leaned forward in his seat. “What’s yourname?”
“Joseph.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Joseph. You’re officially my favorite British person I’ve met sofar.”
Joseph gave him tips of things to eat and see in London. They were mostly things Rafe had already heard about through his research and general British knowledge, but he appreciated them nonetheless. Rafe wound up giving Joseph advice for asking out this woman he liked. Rafe might have had no need for grand romantic gestures this semester, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pass on sometips.
Through his car window, Rafe watched the skyline of London get smaller in his rear window. The busyness of Heathrow Airport gave way to highway, then to rolling hills. This is what he’d told himself he wanted. An authentic study abroad experience. But the dreamy ideal gave way to the stark reality of being in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country surrounded by strangers. Any romanticism in that scenario quicklyfaded.
That is, until they entered the imposing, yet welcoming gates of Stroude College. A large castle, an actual castle made of stone and having castle towers, greeted them once inside the campus. Rafe’s college back home, Browerton University, had ivy, but nothing compared to this. This was real history. The castle was probably older than Rafe’s homecountry.
“Whoa!” Rafe gawked out the vanwindow.
