Again, But Better(12)

After the museum, we hike up a steep grassy hill to the Royal Observatory and wander through the exhibits. I take a picture of all our hands touching the oldest rock on Earth on display: 4.5 billion years old. We take turns standing on the prime meridian of the world. I snap pictures of everyone as they straddle both the eastern and western hemispheres. Babe takes the camera to snap one of me. I suck in a deep breath as I plop one foot over the line and then exhale, knowing I’m standing on both sides of the world at once. In my mind, I see the globe I used to play with in elementary school and the raised line that I would trace with my finger, down the world. A weird trill of wonder zings through me. I didn’t think I was going to enjoy these museums … this much.

The five of us are starving as we tromp back down the hill from the Observatory, so we stop at the first pub we find and settle in at an empty table. A waitress comes over to greet us and hand out menus.

“So, are you guys all wanting to travel while you’re here?” Pilot asks as we look over the selection. He’s sitting across from me, smiling with his mouth closed.

“Yes!” Babe and Sahra exclaim immediately in response. My head cocks to the side in surprise.

“I want to travel eventually, but the theater track is super-demanding,” Atticus adds. “I have to be here to see shows most weekends.”

I’m not sure how to respond. I haven’t really thought about traveling more. I already traveled all the way across the world to get here. We’re in a foreign country right now. I can’t cross the street yet without almost dying. I just learned that street signs are on the sides of the buildings instead of metal poles stuck into the corners of the intersections. I thought we were done traveling, and now we were going to explore the place we’ve traveled to.

But after today’s adventure in Greenwich, I don’t know. I would like to do more of this. I like adventuring with this crew. I’ve had more fun with these people in two days than I had with my roommates all last year. When else am I going to be living so close to other European countries? Italy! I’ve been taking Italian classes since I was fourteen. I could go to Italy.

Pilot’s gaze has fallen on me. I feel it before I see it, because when you like someone, you develop a superpower that enables you to subconsciously hone in on all their movements.

They can rotate to face you all the way across the room, and the second it happens, you know: They’re facing me from across the room, ON GUARD!

With a deep breath, I meet Pilot’s eyes. “Yeah, I really want to go to Italy,” I tell him as our waitress distributes waters around the table.

“Let’s go this weekend, then!” he responds immediately.

My jaw drops.

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Babe chimes in.

This weekend? But that’s, like, now. We literally got here yesterday.

“I’m on board with this,” Sahra adds, picking up her water and taking a sip.

I fumble for words. “Like, go to Rome—for the weekend?” I ask in disbelief.

“Rome for the weekend,” Pilot echoes confidently. I blink at him.

“Okay!” I blurt.

“Rome for the weekend!” Babe raises her glass of water to toast. We all join her, clinking our glasses.

“You guys are going to have an amazing time!” Atticus cheers.

I take a big gulp of my water and drop the glass back to the table. Across from me, Pilot jumps like someone pinched him.

“Whoa.” He holds his hands up in front of him.

I raise my eyebrows. “Whoa, what?”

“Don’t murder the glass!”

My head twitches to the left. “What do you mean, murder the glass? It’s fine.”

“Take a drink again.”

I eye him suspiciously and slowly raise the glass off the table. I take a quick sip and drop it back down. An amused smile breaks across his face. Babe’s starts laughing.

“What?” I demand.

“He’s right!” She giggles.

“What are you talking about?” I laugh.

“You slam your glass down,” Babe explains. “Like a sailor after he chugs a beer!”

“I don’t…” I pick up my glass and take a sip again, concentrating now. I drop the glass back down, and it makes a loud thunk as it hits the wood. My breath whooshes out in surprise. I’ve never paid any attention to it. Realization must dawn on my face because across the table Pilot’s silently chuckling.

“I…” I start, bewildered. “I didn’t even realize. Are your cups, like, silent?”

Pilot picks up his glass. His eyes lock with mine as he brings it to his mouth, drinks, and puts the glass back on the table. It barely makes a sound. “It’s all in the technique,” he says. “Be chill. Be Zen.”

Next to him, Babe takes a drink and puts down her glass experimentally. It makes a muffled clunk.

“See? There, she’s got it,” he says, pointing to Babe.

I pick up my glass and sip again. I watch Pilot with narrowed eyes as I lower it back to the table at snail speed. It makes a small sound as it comes back into contact with the wood. He grins.

“Was that to your satisfaction?” I inquire with a melodramatic flourish.

He squints at me. “With a few months’ practice—”