I wipe some crumbs off my sweats and try, in vain, to get my raven’s nest of hair into something resembling a bun.
“I appreciate the effort, Mer, but it’s not going to happen.”
She sticks her lip out in an exasperated pout.
“Butwhy?”
“One,” I start, “I just lost my only source of income.”
“Eh,” she makes a sound like a human buzzer. “Next.”
“Two, I’d rather stick my head in the dumpster behind the building than take a Warren handout. I’m nobody’s charity case.”
“Double next! Your sister’s marrying off Forbes 500, Stell. I really don’t think she’ll miss the six hundred dollars she’s going to throw down on your plane ticket.”
“Three: Jules doesn’t know about my job.”
Marianne screws up her face like I’ve just crop-dusted her.
“You didn’t tell her you got suspended? Why not?”
“Because!” I huff in exasperation. “Jules is…”
Jules isperfect.She’s the kind of girl who woodland creatures want to sing to. Who attracts luck like fly-paper and never has to worry about parking spaces. Sweet, bubbly, and oh-so-classically gorgeous, she’s the rainbow to my stormcloud. Where I am, at best, an acquired taste, there’s not a thing about Jules that anyone could dislike. Except, maybe, her borderline unhealthy love of ABBA.
“Because my fellowship was literally theone thingI had going for me,” I tell Marianne. “And the last thing I want to do it ruin this for Jules. However she’s has managed to charm Prince Warren over there into thinking she’s trophy wife material, the quickest way to blow her cover will be to show off her unemployed, painfully single sister with crippling student debt. How do we know he won’tthrow her ass back in the sea and go fish for someone with more savory relatives?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself! I hate to break it to you, Stell, but you could be making six figures and the Warrens wouldstillspend your salary on breakfast. I really don’t think they’re gonna care that you’ve spent a grand total of three weeks of your life sans day labor. And if it really makes you feel better, just don’t tell them!”
“Great,” I huff. “Now I’m a failureanda liar.”
Marianne gives me the same look I’ve seen her give to her husband when he’s mansplaining. One that’s best described asunamused.
“Have I told you lately you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met?”
“Repeatedly,” I pull my blanket up to my chest. “Look, you can say whatever you want. But there is no way I’m going on this trip without a court mandate.”
We’re interrupted by another sound from my phone, but this time, it’s not a text. It’s the dreaded “Super Trouper” ringtone that can mean only one thing.
My sister’s calling.
Marianne bolts to attention, and our eyes lock on it at the exact time—my light blue phone case resting on the mantle next to an empty LaCroix and a half-eaten bar of chocolate. I glance back at her, fear rising in my stomach as I realize what she aims to do.
“Marianne,” I say slowly, putting my hand out the way you’re supposed to with an overly-curious wild animal. “Don’t even think?—”
But before I can finish the sentence, Marianne is half way across the living room, her tiny legs propelling her towards the mantle with the speed of a thoroughbred. I jump up to beat her, but it’s no use—my whole body crashes to the ground as myankles tangle in the haphazard pile of blankets covering my feet.
“Mer, no!” I scream from the carpeted floor, but she already has the phone in her hand. She taps the screen before I can upright myself, holding the phone as far from my reach as possible as the song stops blaring.
“Stella?” my sister’s sing-songy voice sounds on the other side, cheerful as a basket of sunflowers. Marianne literally pushes her tiny hand over my mouth as she speaks into the receiver.
“Jules! It’s Marianne,” she says sweetly, her body practically bouncing as she prepares to ruin my life. “I have good news.”
3
The flight from Chicago to Denarau is uneventful, and by uneventful, I mean fully spent gripping the arm rails of my very uncomfortable seat and praying to every deity I can remember from mythology class. Heights and I have never been friends, but it’s been so long since I’ve been airborne I forgot how much I hate it. Because Will’s a pilot, he and Marianne got seated in business, but at least she runs back every couple of hours to bring me snacks and make sure I haven’t dug a hole through my armrest. Unfortunately, the limited airline points I’ve managed to save up over the years don’t cover luxuries like ‘legroom’.
In preparation for eleven days without my laptop, I wenthardon revising my new dissertation chapter for Dr. Rivera before leaving, which means I’ve had about ten collective hours of sleep in the last three days. Luckily, Will is all too happy to take charge. He hails us a cab that hasn’t had a paint job since the 1980s and we screech out of the small, quiet airport into a literal zoo. Chickens and dogs run loose through the streets, prompting an orchestra of shouts and rusty car horns. Tiny, colorful birds flock from even more colorful vines that crawl upthe trees and metal-roofed houses. And behind it all, a range of looming hills a color green I haven’t seen since I moved to the midwest encircle the hectic city of Denarau in a welcoming hug. It’s loud. It’s vibrant. It’s everything I’ve been sheltered from for years in my tiny, windowless office.
