“And?” I ask, picking up a piece of driftwood.
“And I managed to get my bunk counsellor to give up his bedroom to me on day two, so instead of sleeping on a creaky bunk bed with a bunch of smelly teenage boys, I had a rustic room with a double bed and my own bathroom.”
I laugh, picturing him as a smooth-talking teenager. “I’m almost afraid to ask how you managed that.”
“I bet him I could get the Queen of England on the phone to say hi to him,” he says as he bends to pick up a few small logs.
My eyes grow wide. “You were able todo that?”
“The important thing is thathethought I was,” he says, standing.
“Who was he really talking to?”
“My mother.”
“And she went along with that?”
He shakes his head. “She didn’t have to. I called, the butler answered, and I said, ‘Hello, Jeeves—’ his name is Roger, but I called him Jeeves to get a rise out of him, ‘—is the Queen home?’”
When she got on the line, I said, ‘Your majesty, how are you?’ Then after a few niceties, I asked if she may perhaps be willing to speak with a friend of mine from the US who is a big fan of hers.”
“Wait a minute. Who’s your mum?” I say as we make our way along the trees.
“A rich woman who fancies herself very important. Loves seeing photos of herself in the local gossip mags, so for her, it’s not entirely unthinkable that she’d have fans in other countries.”
“Wow. What was it like to grow up in your world?” I ask without thinking.
“Cold. Strange. Unrealistic. And lonely.”
***
An hour later, the fire is roaring and the coals are ‘hot dog’ ready. Leo found two long twigs to use as roasting sticks, and my stomach is growling as my wiener bubbles and hisses. A gentle breeze causes the flames to dance along the logs, and the only sounds are the rustling leaves of the trees and the crackling of the fire. It’s a calm, comfortable moment, but I can’t help being a little sad. I want to ask more about Leo’s childhood, but I don’t think I can. The moment for that passed without me knowing what to say, but his words ring through my head.Cold. Strange. Unrealistic. And lonely.
Suddenly, the grass on the rich side of the tracks doesn’t seem so green. I watch him from the corner of my eye as he cooks his wiener. To look at him, you’d never guess he has a care in the world. He’s the epitome of freedom, but now that I’ve had a glance into what’s under the devil-may-care façade, I feel sorry for him.
He glances at me for a second, then says, “Go ahead. Ask.”
“Ask what?”
“You want to know more about the whole cold-and-lonely comment.”
“How could you tell?”
“Because you’ve been very quiet since I said it,” he answers, carefully turning his stick.
“It’s just that you come off as this fun-loving guy who’s never had a care in the world, and yet…” I stop, not sure how to finish my comment.
“That’s because Idon’thave a care in the world. I learned at a very early age that if you don’t care about things like impressing your impossible father, you can get by much easier. Especially when you have two highly impressive older brothers.”
“Ah, I see.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t pity me, Brianna. Most people have it much worse.”
“Do they?”
“Yes. Much better to grow up with a silver spoon in one’s mouth than an empty one.”
“What about a regular stainless-steel spoon served by people who love you?”
