Chapter One
FOUR WEEKS IN FRANCE
Thursday. Late afternoon. The Rosenberg residence.
"Sarah! Joshua! We're leaving!"
I race down the stairs, two at a time, and jump when I reach the bottom. "Not without one last hug you're not!” I sprint toward my parents. “I'm going to miss you guys!"
My dad, his arms burdened with a towering stack of suitcases, looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Really? That's not what you said last night when mom asked you to do the dishes. In fact I specifically remember you saying - ”
"Okay, okay," I shoot back, not wanting to be reminded of how I’d snapped at my mom the night before, "I know I said I couldn't wait for you guys to leave, but now that you’re actually leaving..."
My mom smiles. "Aww.” She looks at my dad. “Our daughter's going to miss us. Do you hear that, David?”
I feel my cheeks flush. “Well, you know...it's four weeks...”
Dad shakes his head and mutters something as he carries the suitcases outside. Mom, meanwhile, comes to me and wraps an arm around me. “It’s hard…I know.” She plants a kiss on the top of my head. “I always miss you when we go away.” She laughs. “Even if things aren’t going the best between us.”
“I wish we could go with you…”
“I wish you could go with us too, but we'll be living out of a tent for four weeks. Not to mention that we'll be working very long days and a disaster zone is simply no place for two teenagers."
She smiles and plants a second kiss on my forehead.
It's times like these that I hate the fact my parents work for the Canadian Red Cross. Whenever they have to go on assignment my twin brother Josh and I get left behind with Aunt Karen or Uncle Marty. This latest assignment is taking them to Thailand to assist with flood clean up.
"And why does it always have to be during summer break. I mean...I thought dad said we could rent a cottage this year."
I know it seems selfish whining about not getting to rent a cottage when tens of thousands of people in Thailand just had their homes destroyed by raging floodwaters...but still...
"Sarah, you know we don’t control when we go," says my mom, her expression sympathetic.
I sigh. "I know..."
"Besides," she adds, bending down to lace up her shoes, "you and Joshua get to spend those four weeks in France with your Uncle Marty. Aren't you excited about that at least?"
I glance at her. "Mom. We’re going to Brittany. That's, like, the French Outback. Now if Uncle Marty was taking us to Paris…”
"Hey now, young lady," says my dad, returning for a second round of suitcases, "I’d have done anything when I was your age to have the opportunity to go to France. You should be grateful your uncle has even offered to take you two with him on this trip."
If he's trying to make me feel guilty, it's working.
"I'm sorry dad....it's just...Stacey's family is going to their cottage this summer and - "
"I don't care what Stacey's family's doing this summer, Sarah! You don't always get what you want in life!" He glares at me. “You're going to France with your uncle and your brother. And that's it! Or maybe we should just send you two to your Aunt Karen's instead..."
“No! Dad.”
I hate going to Aunt Karen’s. She’s like…I can’t even describe her…but she’s zero fun and she wakes you up with her vacuuming at seven in the morning and she gives us a nine o'clock curfew. Nine o’clock!
“What’s this about Aunt Karen?” asks Josh, appearing in the doorway that leads down to the basement.
“Your sister was just telling us how much she would love to go to Aunt Karen’s instead of France with Uncle - ”
“Dad! That’s not what I said!”
“Whoa? What?” My brother rounds on me. “You want to go to Aunt Karen’s instead of going to France with Uncle Marty!? Are you stup- ”
“I didn’t say I want to go to Aunt Karen’s! Ahhhhh, why won’t anyone listen to me!? And, were you about to call me stupid!?”
“Sarah,” says my mom tenderly, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“No, mom. I’m tired of dad always putting words in my mouth!”
“Sarah.” The way my dad says my name, I can tell he’s mad.
“Sarah.” The way my mom says it, she sounds almost tired. “I think you should go and cool off. Go and cool off and I’ll tell you when we’re leaving.”
“I don’t need to cool off!”
My parents exchange a look. That one that says, she’s your daughter.
“I’m tired of everyone in this family always telling me what to do!”
“Sarah. That’s enough.”
“David…”
“No, Roz, I’m not going to let her get away with this continued bad behaviour. Sarah, go to your room.”
“You go to your room.”
My dad smiles, though it’s not a nice smile. “Okay, that’s it. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer. When we get back from Thailand, and when you get back from France, you are grounded, young lady.”
“Whoop dee doo, it’s not like we were going to do anything anyway!” I holler, making my way down the hall and up the stairs toward my bedroom.
“Grounded!” my dad yells after me.
I arrive at my room and jump, face first, onto my bed.
This family sucks. Did I mention my family sucks? You saw that, right?
I roll over and gaze up at the ceiling.
Four weeks in France with Josh and Uncle Marty. And we’re not going to Paris. Who the hell goes to France and doesn’t go to Paris?
I pull out my phone and text Stacey.
“Stupid family.”
Stacey’s always slow to respond. That’s one thing I hate about Stacey. Even though we’re like B.F.F.’s.
I start a game of Angry Birds. The tenth level is just impossible!
I’m on my third attempt when I hear a knock at the door.
“Yes?”
The door opens and my mom pokes her head in. “We’re leaving now.”
“Alright,” I mumble, hardly moving my eyes from my phone.
“It would be nice to get a proper goodbye.”
My mom’s in that mood where she just wants everything to be alright without having to apologize.
“Fine...” I sit up on the bed and pocket my phone just as it vibrates. “Ooh, just a sec. That’s Stacey.” I look at my mom - she hates when my texting cuts into our conversations. “I’ll just be one second. Promise.”
She looks unimpressed as I pull out my phone once more.
“What’s up?”
I text my reply:“Let’s meet later. Can I come over?”
“Okay.” I pocket my phone. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Sarah.”
“What?”
My mom shakes her head. “Get this over with...you say it like it’s a chore.”
“No, mom, it’s not a chore.” I slide off the bed and go to her.
She meets me with open arms.
“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t mean...I didn’t mean...”
“I know,” she says softly, stroking my hair.
We’re silent for a minute, and all you can hear is the sound of our breathing and the gentle beating of our hearts. But then there comes a loud honk from below.
“Damn it, David!”
Mom’s at the window in an instant.
“GIVE ME ONE MINUTE WITH OUR DAUGHTER!”
I hear my dad’s faint, apologetic reply as mom returns to me.
“Four weeks. I need you to be good for four weeks. You can screw up when we’re all back home together. But not while you’re away.”
I nod, slowly, her gaze holding mine.
“Four weeks. Promise me, Sarah.”
“I promise.”
She takes a deep breath and draws herself up, though she’s still just barely taller than me.
“Give me one more hug.”
I smile. “Alright.”
This time her hug practically strangles me and I’m grateful when it’s over.
“I’ll call or e-mail once we’re there,” says my mom, heading for the door.
“Okay.”
“And e-mail me at least once a week to let me know what’s going on. I’ll do the same.”
I smile. “Okay, mom.”
She stops and stares at me - in that way parents do when you’ve done something admirable.
“What?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I just realize how quickly you’re growing up.”
I feel tears spring to my eyes now and I swallow to relieve the dryness in my throat. “Aww, mom.”
“You be good.”
I nod. “I will. I promise.”
She nods and heads from my room.
“Love you, mom.”
“Love you too.”