I take my time making an appearance at breakfast the next morning not only because of my father’s impending lecture, but because even if it will be in the safety of daylight this time, I’m not eager to face Kingston—especially considering what I found in the shower this morning: a note, written in the steam on the door, that I didn’t notice until rinsing my hair.
It was a pleasure meeting you.
I’d smeared my hand across the words to permanently erase them, thankful my parents rarely entered my bathroom. Smug jerk. The sooner he checked in at his dorm, the better.
“Now, Echo!”
My father’s demand rattles the entire house, setting my feet in hustled motion down the stairs. With my head lowered, knowing my father’s stink eye is aimed right at me, I hurry to the sanctity of my mother’s side at the stove.
“Can I help with anything?” I offer sweetly.
“As a matter of fact,” she replies, lowering both her head and voice, “you can take the scolding you’re over here trying to avoid, with no backtalk. That would be a big help. I’d like our guest to feel as comfortable as I’m praying Sebastian does at his new…” She pauses and takes a deep breath, her eyes watering a bit. “Home.”
I rub her shoulder and serve up a confident smile. “Sebastian knows where home is, Mom.” As I sense her grief start to dissolve, I add, “And I’ll behave—promise. But you have to promise me you won’t worry. I can’t stand it when you’re sad.”
The last of her lingering sniffles give my heart one more tug as she kisses my cheek. “Thank you, sweetie. Go take your seat, and these biscuits.” She hands me the basket. “And I’ll try not to worry. I promise.”
My mom was Sebastian’s biggest supporter while he was applying, and then planning, for the big swap. But I guess the gravity of seeing her first baby actually leave home is hitting her harder than we all anticipated.
No sooner is my butt in the chair than my dad clears his throat and demands my eyes on him. I place the biscuits on the table slowly and wait for it.
“Nice of you to finally join us.” My father’s tone is more condescending than angry, much to my relief. “Kingston, this is our daughter, Echo Victoria Kelly.”
My full name? Maybe I was wrong about the no-anger thing. My dad’s either furious, or being way too formal for Mr. Fancypants.
“Echo, can you say hello to our guest?”
Before my humiliation from being spoken to like a toddler causes my face to erupt in flames, a smooth, familiar accent floats on air and rescues me.
“We’ve met, sir,” Kingston says to my dad. “Last evening. We passed in the loo.” He pauses to add another quick lie. “While cleaning our teeth. Lovely to see you again, Echo.”
“What’s a loo?” my nine-year-old little brother Sammy cuts in, tapping his fork on his empty plate.
“He means the bathroom, Sammy.” The twist of confusion on his face remains with that explanation, so I elaborate further. “They call it a ‘loo’ where Kingston’s from.”
“Does that mean Sebastian is gonna have to say ‘loo’ now when he has to go pee?”
We all laugh at his innocent question, my father the loudest. He’s probably thinking along the same lines as me: No way is my big brother Sebastian going to suddenly start talking all proper. We only just broke him from burping at the table.
“Not at all,” Kingston answers Sammy, with an amused smile. “Your brother can speak any way he wishes. You see, this experience—or exchange, as you may say—isn’t to change your big brother, Sam. No, I believe my father hopes that I’ll be the one who changes.”
His fickle laugh is edged with something bitter…perhaps even pained?
“Sebastian is having a fine time, I assure you. No need to worry,” Kingston adds quickly before throwing back a mouthful of orange juice.
Little Sammy’s concerned face brightens immediately. “Okay! Can I eat now?”
“Dig in,” my mother says as she sets the last platter on the table and takes her seat. “I hope there’s something here you like, Kingston. And please, let me know if there’s anything special I can pick up for you the next time I’m at the store.”
“The spread looks and smells wonderful, Mrs. Kelly. Thank you.” He lays it on thick, and I duck my head to hide my rolling eyes.
“Please, call me Julie.”
I wasn’t aware she even knew how to make the sound I hear next: a slight giggle that catches in her throat.
Oh, this wanker (you bet I did my homework—mainly to make sure Sebastian would at least be able to ask for a toilet, a phone, and/or the police) is quite the schmoozer.
“Well, Miss Echo.” I raise my head when my father addresses me. “I assume you used the time you couldn’t spare to join us at the airport or dinner yesterday to practice?”
“Yes, sir. Savannah and I worked on our new routine—the idea I told you about.”