Free Sucks to Be Moi (Prelude) by Kimberly Pauley Page B

even when
he’s reading one his boring old history books, since that’s what he
picks up as soon as it’s polite to do so. He takes all the research
stuff so seriously, like my Dad. I guess I should look on the
bright side that my boyfriend and my Dad get along really well, but
sometimes I swear they get on too well. It’s kind of weird.
Shouldn’t my dad be, like, cleaning a shotgun whenever George comes
around or something?
    “Are you studying abroad too? Or just going
on vacation?” asks Astrid.
    I’m not really sure how to answer that. I
honestly don’t know what I’m going to be doing about school. I only
made it through to Homecoming at Cartville High. We’d stayed in New
Orleans with Uncle Mortie through Christmas break after we’d pretty
much half-emptied Cartville of the Carter Clan. Was Mom going to
stick to her word and make me finish my senior year of high school
even though it was really kind of unnecessary? I mean, the VRA
could always whip me up a diploma if I needed one.
    “My dad’s job,” I finally say. That’s true,
anyway.
    “Oh, wow,” she says. “So you’re actually
moving to France! That’s so cool.”
    We chat through our crappy airplane dinner
(spongy yet strangely greasy chicken, teeny salad, and a stale
brownie that I only eat enough of to not be suspicious) and I learn
that:
    a) she wants to travel the world and France
has been her dream destination ever since she was a little girl,
and
    b) she has two brothers (who are both
seriously jealous of her going) and a little sister (who was
looking forward to ransacking her room when she was gone), and
    c) besides French, she also speaks Spanish
(duh, she’s from Mexico originally) and some Japanese.
    Astrid isn’t actually that much younger than
me, but all of a sudden I feel kind of ancient. And monolingual.
I’d taken French for a couple of years in school, but I still
totally suck at it. It’s pretty much English or nothing for me.
    But mostly I feel kind of weird.
Vampire-weird. As she’s telling me about all the things she’s
planning on doing in France (the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacre
Couer, walking the Seine) and all the stuff about her family (who
all sound really nice and normal), I couldn’t help but think about
my family and what we were planning on doing. You know,
“researching” a couple of bloodthirsty evil vampire brothers and a
shady organization of human-hating vampires.

    Sure, I was planning on doing some
sightseeing too, but I knew Mom had already looked into some
continuing education shape shifting classes for us to sign up for.
I was pretty sure that wasn’t on Astrid’s class
schedule.
    After talking about her friend Alexander and
her French host family for a while, Astrid settles down to sleep. I
close my eyes and pretend to sleep too until I’m sure she’s out.
Uncle Mortie is watching a movie and George is still reading, even
with the lights off. Score one for vampire eyesight. Astrid had let
me borrow her iPod and notebook (she’d written out a cheat sheet of
handy French phrases…she was so much more prepared than I was), so
I plug in and listen to her favorite bands, the Black Eyed Peas and
Linkin Park, while everyone on the plane dozes around us.
     
    ###
     
    Astrid wakes up when the breakfast cart comes
around about an hour before we are supposed to land in Paris.
    “Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
    “Sure,” I say. “Slept like a baby.” Take
that, Grandma Wolfington (my old vampire indoctrinator), I can lie convincingly.
    “I’m going to freshen up,” says Astrid. “I
feel like my teeth have fuzz.” She squeezes out of our row and goes
to the back of the plane.
    “So, are you excited?” I ask George. He had
been so engrossed in his book that we’d only talked a tiny bit
during the trip. Apparently, Dr. Musty’s travels through Outer
Mongolia were more interesting than me, his girlfriend.
    “Of course,” says George. “Did you know that
the Parisian Council has