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There are certain things in life that just suck. Pouring a big bowl of Lucky Charms before realizing the milk is expired, the word “moist,” falling face-first into the salad bar in front of the entire lacrosse team … “Bird strike!” Being on a plane with Jason Lippincott is another one of them. Two rows ahead of me, Jason is holding his hands up in mock prayer as our plane bounces like it’s on a bungee cord. Not that I would have any idea what bungee jumping feels like,
since I would rather compete in a spelling bee in my underpants than leap off a crane with only a rope tied around me. At least I’d come away from the spelling bee with a medal. As the plane drops several hundred (thousand?) feet, I white-knuckle the armrest. Jason’s prayers may be a joke, but mine are very, very real. God, please deposit me safely on the ground in London … and in the process, maybe you could find a way to get Jason to shut it?
I tuck my pocket Shakespeare into the seat back and carefully realign the magazines that have bounced out of formation on my tray table.
Never. So back off. Forever. Okay?” “Prerogative, eh?” He chuckles, unwrapping a hunk of grape Bubble Yum and popping it into his mouth. “It’s an SAT word, so perhaps you’ve never heard it before.” Okay, that was a little I’m rubber and you’re glue, but I didn’t make it past my opening line as I was writing my script. “Oh, I know it. Seven twenty verbal,” he says, and then leans in close. The smell of grape gum wafts into my face, and I wrinkle my nose to block the odor. “But don’t tell anyone. Might ruin my ‘overcaffeinated child’ rep.”
me. But I am in London. For free. Without any parents. With an itinerary (highlighted and underlined, of course) full of visits to places I’ve only read about or imagined and a duffel bag full of guidebooks, notable passages flagged with an array of colorful Post-its.
can’t wait to take my old copy of Pride and Prejudice and read it in a real English garden. Although knowing me, I will probably get attacked by a wild goose or something. (I have goose-related issues. Don’t judge me.)
and firmly shaking my head. “And not to me. Besides, they won’t fit in my suitcase.” “Maybe if you leave a couple of these behind,” she said, rolling her eyes as she pulled out a stack of books. “Dude, seriously, you can borrow my Kindle.” I made a face. I have my own e-reader, but I hardly ever use it. I need to fold down pages and flag passages with sticky notes. I need to experience books, not just read them. I never go anywhere without a book in my bag, and to travel across the ocean, I’d packed more than my fair share. “No thanks,” I said.
“Anyway, there was a soccer game on TV—” “Football,” I say, correcting him. I have no idea why. “Whatever. Anyway, he’s got this girlfriend, and her parents are in Czechoslovakia—” “I think you mean the Czech Republic,” I say, correcting him again. I realize I sound like a shrew, but I’m kind of a stickler for history. And geography. And … Oh my God, I suddenly understand why people call me Book Licker. “What?” he asks, crinkling his nose in confusion. Of course, I can’t just let it go. “The Czech Republic. Czechoslovakia hasn’t existed for almost twenty years. So unless her parents are
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Get a life? A life! I have a life. A damn good one, too. I have friends, I play sports, I have fun, I have—oh crap, I only have ten minutes. With Phoebe’s voice echoing in my ear—“It’s London! Adventure happens.”—I realize I need to do this. I need some adventure. Because my name is Julia. Not Book Licker. I’m Julia Lichtenstein, and even though I alphabetize my bookshelf and have, from time to time, quoted Dante at swim team dinners, I can have fun! I am fun. And if this is what it takes to prove it to Jason Lippincott—prove it to myself—then this is what I’ll do.
That’s when it hits me: I could be Rosalind. I could be anyone. Nobody seems to know the difference between Julia the rule-following, Shakespeare-reading, freestyle record—holding übernerd from Newton, Massachusetts, and Julia the girl who attracts all males of the species, who coolly disposes of boys by shoving them into glass-topped tables. I could be someone cooler, more confident,
just for tonight, just for this party. I can be the über-Julia. The Julia who says witty things and drinks and has boys, sober or otherwise, hanging on her every word. I’m imagining myself in a circle
instead, he begins gently plucking the opening notes to one of my all-time favorite Beatles songs, “Here, There, and Everywhere.” I’m shocked by how talented he is: his version is beautiful and slow, with some small riffs on the melody. I close my eyes to listen, and for a minute, my hangover disappears. The Beatles played live on the banks of the Thames: a perfect London moment. “You okay?” Jason asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Yeah, I just completely love this song,” I reply, leaning my head back to take in the sky and sucking in a deep breath. Mom walked down the aisle to this song,
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turn back to some of the paintings around me. There’s a spot where many layers of spray paint in a rainbow of colors have started to peel away. An industrious artist has taken some tool or another to carve out the lyrics to Queen’s “Fat Bottomed Girls.” It’s somehow beautiful. “Hey, Jason,” I say, waving over my shoulder to show it to him, but when I turn,
portions of everything onto my gold-rimmed plate. If there’s a heaven, it’s this buffet—inside a library with no one around but me. And maybe Phoebe. And my mom.
blond at Harrods. I came all the way across the ocean to discover my Mark fantasy is a total myth, to fall for my least favorite classmate, and to find myself once again pining for someone who doesn’t want me back.
something new and amazing. “I wish I’d thought to bring a book,” she sighs into her pint glass. “I didn’t think I’d be sitting here this long.” “Oh, I never go anywhere without a book,” I reply. I pat my messenger bag, thinking with a twinge of anxiety that I should have packed
spare. But if I finish the book and Chris isn’t here yet, I might take it as a sign that it’s time to give up. “Sometimes I actually hope the person is late so I get more reading time!”
