Foreign Exchange (14 page)

There are two sets of bunk beds in our room. Anna
claps her hands, asking if she can have a top bunk, so I say, “I’ll take the one under you.”

When that’s settled, Ingrid and
her mom, our one parent chaperone, take the other side of the room. “Side” meaning all of about four feet away. There are lockers against the wall in between, and I guess we’re using a shared bathroom in the hallway, because there’s only a small sink in the corner.

“I can’t believe this,” Anna says, flapping onto her back on the upper bunk like a little kid. “We’re in Barcelona, guys!”

I’m almost too concerned about Tristan to be excited. Almost. My face still lights up at the thought. Amelia gave us half an hour to get settled and then she wants to meet in the common room. I lock away my suitcase, and then tell Ingrid's half-asleep mom that I'll see her out there.

I pace back and forth in the common room, but Sawyer doesn’t show up.
Where is he?

Half an hour later, he still hasn’t shown up
when the rest of our class trickles in. Sawyer and Amelia finally stroll down the hall last. Sawyer has his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, but now I wonder if there will be any time to boot it up.

“
Amelia has emailed all of your parents to let them know we arrived,” our teacher says to the whole group. I guess that’s where Sawyer has been—letting Amelia use his laptop. I can't believe it hadn't even occurred to me to email Mom, after how I'd left things with her, or even been concerned about checking on Eddy. I've just been so preoccupied with Tristan, and suddenly it makes me angry. What if Tristan really came to Barcelona and then took off on me just because she didn’t want to talk to Sawyer? Would she really disrupt my whole life and my plan to find my dad, just because of her anger at Sawyer?

Mr. Echols goes on, taking me from my thoughts.
“Since it’s our first day, we thought we’d visit
La Boqueria
. It’s Barcelona’s best-known market and within walking distance. The exercise will help you get over your jetlag, and you may want to pick up a few snacks in case you get hungry.”

I'm
not planning on going anywhere until we find Tristan, but this makes me even angrier. How much of my trip am I going to miss because of her and her selfishness? But really, I need to get onto that computer. When the others make their way toward the door, I sidle up beside Mr. Echols to tell him.

“
Sir, my friend, she hasn't shown up yet, and I really want to be here in case she does.” My words don’t hold much conviction, since I’m fairly depressed about having to say them.

Mr. Echols nods, like he's at least thinking it over, but then Sawyer calls me. I look over and he still hasn't left the couch.

“Yeah?” I say, trailing back toward him a couple of feet.

“
You should go.” I'm about to interrupt, when he says, “This is important to you, to see Spain. I'll wait here and if Tris shows up, I promise you I won't let her leave until you get back here. I have some stuff to figure out anyway.” He gives me a pointed look as he pulls out his laptop.

So is he working on something? Did he hear from Tristan?
Or is he truly concerned about me missing out on Spain?

I don’t have a chance to ask, because Matt grabs my hand, and our teacher prods us both toward the door.

Twenty minutes later, we’re at
La Rambla
, on the way to
La Boqueria
, and the twelve of us stand on the street corner gawking at the scene. It’s probably the most well known street in all of Europe and it’s abuzz with activity. Street performers line both sides of the street—one making these interesting paintings by laying strips of wood on his canvas and then spraying over them at different angles. There’s a silver guy sitting on a toilet that looks exactly like a statue until I see him shift to a new position.

“Believe me,
La Rambla
will take the better part of a day,” Mr. Echols says. “For now, the market.” He turns us all in a new direction and points. I feel bad that Sawyer's missing this, but then again, I guess he hadn't had his heart set on it for months. I'm still angry with Tristan, and I’m holding hands with Matt—sticking to my part of the plan—more to spite her than anything. If she’s replied to my email and told me she wasn’t meeting me, or if she’d shown up at the airport and seen Sawyer, she deserves to sweat out my reply a little now. And I know if I was at the hostel, I likely wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from sending her a reply right away.

La Boqueria
is more striking in real life than the pictures I’ve seen. It’s gigantic—like several
blocks
long. They carry every type of food you can imagine, but it’s not even about
what
they carry. The mix of colors and intricate displays nearly take my breath away. I want to buy ten of everything, just so I can make my own displays back at the hostel.

Mr. Echols tells us,
“No one goes alone. Stay in groups, and we’ll meet back here in one hour.” He makes sure we all have his emergency cell number, as well as Matt’s and Amelia’s, before setting us free within the boundaries of the market.

Matt
squeezes my hand, smiling over at me, and Caleb and Anna come up on either side of us. “So where do you guys feel like exploring—the fruits or the cheeses?” Anna laughs at her own silly joke. I’m too distracted to make decisions. I let Matt lead me past big round circles of cheese, mangos piled higher than tall Mr. Echols, and bright, colorful concoctions of taffy and candy.

“
Did you hear from your friend,” Matt asks, concern in his voice.

I shake my head.
“Not yet. But hopefully by the time we get back.” His brow furrows, so I add, “I heard from her a day and a half ago. I just wish we’d firmed up our meeting time a little better. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to think about something else for a while.”

Matt does a pretty good job of distracting me.
He starts this game where we get to know each other through our likes and dislikes.

“You don’t seriously hate avocado?” I ask him, picking one up to see how ripe it is. I put it back quickly, not wanting to wreck the display.

“It doesn’t really taste like anything,” he says. I act indignant about it, even though I don’t really care, but he reaches over and tickles me, making me laugh and drop the act. I guess part of me feels like getting to know Matt makes me slightly less of a boy-using jerk, but at the same time, I feel a little guilty, because if Sawyer were here, it would bother him. Now that I know Sawyer’s feelings for me are real, and they’re more than friendship, I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.

We get through a good portion of the market before
we round the corner back to the meeting place. Now that our time’s up, I'm eager to take my papaya, bananas and French bread and get back to see what Sawyer’s figured out.

Chapter
Thirteen

Back at the hostel, Sawyer's on his laptop in the common room.

“
Any word?” I ask. Then I remember that I’d changed my email password, and so even if he had been able to get onto my email before, he probably can’t now. I glance at his phone and he takes that as his cue to pick it up and dial. His eyes are even redder than they'd been on the plane. When he hangs up, it’s obvious there’s still no answer.

“
Maybe you should get some rest, Sawyer. You look exhausted.”

He nods, like he might be thinking about it, or his thoughts might be a million miles away. He's more
preoccupied than I've ever seen him.

“We’re going to see her soon, and then we’ll get everything straightened out.” My words sound less convincing when I say them out loud and see the doubting look on Sawyer’s face.

Amelia is lurking a few feet away, pretending to be interested in a Spanish magazine, but I can tell she’s really keeping an eye on Sawyer. I purposely keep my distance.

“
Maybe you're right,” he says finally, pushing the laptop away from him and standing. “It might be a long day. We should try and sleep.” He gives me a pointed look, but I’m not sure what it means. “You'll let me know if you hear anything?” He passes me the laptop––guessing, correctly, that I want to check my email.

A
fter Sawyer heads out, I login, but there’s nothing from Tristan at all. Not even a confirmation that she got my other email.

I think back to what she might have seen if she’d shown up at the airport. Sawyer grabbed my elbow, but otherwise, it wouldn’t have looked like anything was going on between us. She shouldn’t be angry enough
with me that she wouldn’t email. Unless she’s angry I didn’t tell her he was on the class trip.

Then again, s
he had said in her first email from Italy that she might not get online much. Now that I know she’s not in a host family home, I understand why. Maybe that’s why she’s not writing back. Maybe it’s a much simpler matter and she hasn’t been able to get online.

Or maybe she’s still on her way to
Barcelona. She initially said she’d meet me at the airport, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected her to arrive in town for that exact time. She knows my hostel. Maybe she wants to show up and surprise me.

This makes me feel better.
We’ll keep calling her and eventually she’ll pick up. It makes sense that if she’s on a long train ride, she may not be getting reception. In the meantime, Sawyer and I will make plans to get away from the class trip and find our way to Milan once she’s arrived. Then we can do what we’ve been planning all along: Find my dad. Sawyer and Tristan obviously have other things to work out, but I’m having more confidence that Tristan will listen to reason with Sawyer and I both there.

Most of the students have headed off to take a nap, but Matt's still here, leafing through a guidebook off the coffee table. Anna’s a big ball of energy and has plopped herself beside Matt on the couch. Even though we were all together, she starts recounting the details she enjoyed most about the market. He furrows his brow, looking slightly annoyed.

I squeeze in between them.
Our legs rest against each other and Matt glances down at them. Then he reaches over and takes my hand.

“
How are you doing?” I ask Matt quietly, ignoring the fact that Anna is
still
talking. The nicer he is to me, the worse I feel that I don’t like him back in that same way.

He nods, but then flips the magazine closed so he has a free hand to cover his yawn.

“Yeah, I’m really tired, too.”  It’s not completely true. I’m much more wide-awake with all these jumbling thoughts of Tristan still running through my head.

Rex
comes into the common room to tidy up. When he heads back toward the front desk, Anna trails him. I can already hear her asking him, “Can you teach me how to describe my clothes in Spanish?”

Better him than me.

Matt yawns again, so I tell him, “We should probably both get some rest. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

Matt follows me down the narrow hallway and stops outside
his room, which he shares with Sawyer, Caleb and Mr. Echols. I sense he’s waiting to say something…or waiting to kiss me.

I take a sudden step away from him, to hopefully break that train of thought. It’s one thing being a little extra-nice to him. It’s
a completely different thing to fake-kiss him. That was never part of the plan, and it doesn’t seem fair to him, even if Tristan probably would disagree.

The exchange with Matt makes me think more seriously about what Tristan had done to organiz
e her trip. Did she practically prostitute herself to get to Italy?

“I—uh—I’ll see you at dinner,” I
say quickly. I reach over and give Matt’s hand a small squeeze.

“For sure.” He winks
, but I’m having a hard time forcing a smile back at him. I wait until he's in his room to turn and leave.

Dinner that night is at a restaurant just around the corner from the hostel. Sawyer and I stage a public argument about who will stay and wait for word from Tristan, but Rex interrupts and promises he will keep a close eye out for her.

"
Ustedes dos amantes, va a comer y disfrutar!"
Rex says on our way out, which translates roughly to, “You two lovers, go eat and have fun!” My face heats up so much that I can't look at Sawyer or anyone else. And so here we are, leaving the hostel with Amelia latched onto Sawyer again, and me holding Matt's hand, but knowing exactly what Rex said.

And knowing that I didn’t
correct him.

As we turn down the street,
Mr. Echols tells us he and Amelia planned an easy, low-key day because they figured we’d all be tired. Of course he didn’t account for Anna’s energy.

Apparently she’d spent the afternoon talking Rex’s ear off at the front counter, and she us
es her new Spanish vocabulary at dinner. Unfortunately, she uses it badly.

“
Es el alimento recomendar una buena?”
she says, and I’m not sure if she’s asking our waiter if the food is good or if there’s something he can recommend, but whatever she’s trying to say, it’s not coming out right. The waiter gets a confused look.

“
¿Qué recomienda usted?”
I say to make it easier.

“Ahhh,” he says, and leans into Anna’s menu so he can point out a few of his favorites. I can tell by the way Anna giggl
es that she’s attracted to him. And he
is
somewhat good-looking. But I’m not as easily won over by a smooth foreign tongue.

I
smile over at Matt, remembering I still have a part to play, and his whole face lights up when he grins back at me.

After stuffing ourselves with a variety of
tapas
, or Spanish appetizers, a flamenco dancer appears on a stage at the far end of the restaurant. Matt pulls my chair so it’s closer to his.

“You’d be good at that,”
he whispers in my ear.

The loud Spanish music, the thudding bass
beat, the dim lights around us, all make the place feel exotic and romantic. They make me wish I could be sitting near Sawyer and have him whispering in my ear. When the dancer finishes, our table lets loose with applause, hooting and hollering along with the rest of the restaurant patrons. It’s hard to believe we’re the reserved group of students who were in Michigan only a day ago.

Anna taps her feet under the table
. “I'm going to switch from hip hop to flamenco when I get back home.” She’s starting to peter out, though. Her eyes droop at the sides, and by the time the bill comes, she’s practically asleep on the table.

Mr. Echols announces that since there are no official plans on the schedule, he thought about taking the group to
La Rambla
, the tourist street we saw earlier today, so we can get a look at it at night.

All the students seem excited by this idea.
I’m
excited by this idea, especially because what if I don’t make it back in time to see it on Tuesday? But I look over at Anna, whose eyes are now completely closed. Besides, maybe Tristan’s emailed. And I really should get a good night’s sleep, since I’ll be traveling to Milan tomorrow. Mr. Echols still hasn’t told the group going to the mountains what time they’re leaving, but I figure I should find out soon.

I walk over to Mr. Echols
's part of the table. When I ask, he tells me the bus for the excursion will leave around ten in the morning. I nod, trying to look noncommittal about whether or not I’m scheduled to be on that bus, or will be staying with the other group back at the hostel with Amelia and Ingrid’s mom. I change the subject. “Anna didn’t get much sleep this afternoon. Is it okay if I take her back to the hostel?”

Part of me
wants him to say no, it’s not. Or that maybe we should all hang out there while Anna catches up on her sleep. At least I wouldn’t feel so jealous of the rest of the group hanging out on
La Rambla
.

But he
says, “Fine, fine. Stick together. You know how to get back, right? Just around the corner.”

I nod
, kind of amazed how much freedom he’s giving us. Letting two girls go off on their own, at night, in a strange country? He doesn’t even ask Ingrid’s mom or Amelia to go with us. Getting away to Milan might be easier than I thought.

“What was that about?” Matt asks me
when I get back to my seat.

I tell him and his face falls.

“You go,” I say. “You should totally go.” And, okay, secretly I hope he’ll totally stay and distract me from thinking about Tristan and everything I’m missing on
La Rambla
.

“Are you sure
?” he asks, which means he’s not coming with me.

“Of course.”
I force a smile.

After the craziness of paying our bills, the group heads off one way into the night, while Anna lopes an arm around my shoulder and I direct her the other way.

As excited as I am to be in Barcelona, it’s creepier here at night. There aren’t any streetlights down this alleyway, only a few yellowy lights from the restaurant. Guys look us up and down as we walk together, and I think about Tristan again. I can’t imagine her being in a place like this all on her own. And what about when she’s visiting modeling agencies? Are they in good neighborhoods? I’ve been doing such a good job of telling myself that Tristan’s either late or angry, but what if she’s not?

Anna and I are
almost at the main street where our hostel is when I get a strange feeling. We’re being followed. A guy hunched over a garbage bin starts saying something to us. It must be Catalan, because I don’t recognize a word of it. I can imagine what he’s saying by the way his eyes roam everywhere but our faces. Anna sighs beside me, like she’s still half-asleep. Great. She’s not going to be any help in protecting us. I keep my eyes straight ahead and hold tighter to Anna, trying to remember the stomp and strike combo my P.E. teacher taught me in self-defense last year.

It’s only half a block to the hostel, but I
still sense footsteps echoing ours. I hold my breath and I turn back ready to scream, ready to stomp, and ready to aim between the legs if I have to.

But it’s
Sawyer.

“Oh
!” My relief is palpable. “Aren’t you going with the group?”

“Nah.” He catches up to us and walks beside me.
I feel immediately safer. “I told Amelia I wanted to chill at the hostel. See if Tristan showed up yet.”

Sawyer holds the hostel door open for both Anna
and me, and then follows us up the stairs. Rex shakes his head, telling us he hasn't heard a thing from our friend, and he was bored, so he even phoned the airport to check, but there’s been no sign of her there either. We both thank him.

The common room is deserted, as expected. Anna wanders off to
our room, murmuring good night, leaving Sawyer and me standing there alone.

“
Should we check our email?” I ask.

Sawyer’s
eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “We’ll do it at the train station. We need to go.”

“The train station?”

“I found a night train to Milan. It’s the fastest route, and it’ll give us more time to find Tristan.”

I think about this for a second.
Anna’s dead to the world and the rest of them will be caught up on
La Rambla
for hours. The train schedule must be what Sawyer had been working out while I was at
La Boqueria.

“
We need to get a move on.” Sawyer starts heading down the hall, but I don’t move.

“What if Tristan’s still on her way to meet me?”

Sawyer shakes h
is head, but keeps moving. I start to follow. “The trains from Milan have all arrived for the day—hours ago. If she was planning to meet you when you arrived, she’d be here by now.”