Page 13 of Library or Lattes?

We ate cuddled up together on the couch, and when we were both stuffed, Lennie took the plates to the kitchen and jumped back onto the sofa beside me.

“Okay, what is it? Is it a guy?” Lennie wriggled her eyebrows.

“Sorry to disappoint. But no. Although … I forgot to tell you Carter Blake did come into the Acorn yesterday. Remember him?” I sighed at the memory of his perfect face.

“Do I remember him? I think that boy will be seared into my memory until the end of time because of how obsessed you all were with him.”

“I mean, it was kind of justified … and, if anything, he’s gotten even hotter. But he’s only back for a couple of weeks, I think, and no … it’s not a guy … Oh, but also, I ran into this other boy yesterday. You would have hated him.” I wondered why he popped into my mind right now. “Some tourist with a sketchbook, drawing the library. Super rude. Mansplained the wind to me, like he was some kind of weatherman.” I rolled my eyes.

“Ugh!” Lennie made a face. “See, I told you tourists were awful!”

“Not all of them. But this one definitely was.”

“Okay fine. But stop stalling,” Lennie said, going serious. “Is it something bad? Should I be worried?”

My stomach couldn’t decide whether it wanted to flip or puke.

I bit my lip, took out my phone, and scrolled to the email.

I handed her the phone and watched her face as she speed-read the email from the attorney.

“Willa, what the hell?! Is this for real?” she whispered in excitement.

“Well, I didn’t think it was real. I thought, total scam, right? But then … I got this.” I reached into my back pocket and handed her the folded-up letter from Aunt Lisa. And then Lennie was fully speechless, maybe for the first time in her whole life.

When she let the letter drop onto the table, I waved my hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

She mimed her head exploding. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“That I’m richer than I was yesterday?” I shrugged. But my mind was racing.

“London!”

“London?” I mean, it was on the list of places I wanted to go. Obviously. But why was she singling out London?

Lennie grabbed my shoulders, shaking them gently. “The course.”

“The course,” I repeated, trying to guide my brain to the same place hers had landed. And then it all came back.

One night at Lennie’s a few months ago, I’d been helping her research colleges when an ad popped up on the screen. One for the London School of Journalism. I was about to hit the little x in the right-hand corner when something stopped me. And of course Lennie, who noticed everything, saw my hesitation. She told me to open it, and when I did, it blew my mind. Because it was like someone had created this course just for me even though I didn’t know I wanted it.

One year at the London School of Journalism, learning to write like a travel writer. There were placements, portfolios, field trips. It looked amazing. Everything I could ever want in a course, and in London. Except the one drawback. It cost $20,000.

And at the time I remembered being kind of relieved. Like Oh no, I could never afford it, I can’t do it. Which meant I could brush it right off and squash it down. And that was that.

“London!” Lennie whispered again. “You’re always making me watch movies set there. Remember that super-boring one? What was it called … I can’t remember, actually, they’re all super boring, except for 28 Days Later. Does it count if it’s postapocalyptic?” Lennie was off on a tangent.

“I would love to go to London …” I said. But then came the tidal wave of all the things Aunt Lisa had told me not to consider. Practicalities, responsibilities, people I’d leave behind.

“I’m pretty sure there’ll be an exam and everything to get into it. Which I probably wouldn’t even pass.”

Lennie was already scrolling on her phone. In about two seconds, she found the entry criteria, which she showed me on her screen. A multiple-choice exam and an essay. The personal essay prompt was “What is your relationship with travel? What does it mean to you?” Not that I even knew. What was my relationship with travel? Nonexistent.

Lennie studied the page and grew pensive. “I can help you with this, Will. Not that you’ll need any help with the writing, you’re an amazing writer. It’s just … I can help you learn the boring stuff, if you want. I’ve got loads of experience learning boring stuff.”

Lennie’s eyes were sparkling. How could I ever leave her behind?

“And the exam is just before Thanksgiving. That’s plenty of time.”