Free Carpe Diem by Autumn Cornwell Page B

They experience. They LIM : Live in the Moment. That’s what we’re gonna be doing this summer— LIMMING. ”
    She can’t be serious. “Mom says that’s just an excuse for people too lazy to plan.”
    â€œAlthea can go—” She stopped herself. Then grinned. “Come on, adventure doesn’t exist when every question is answered in advance. And I already told you, we’ll be going to Cambodia and Laos in search of artistic inspiration and found art. That’s all you need to know.”
    â€œYou mean you don’t have anything planned out? No reservations, no tickets—nothing at all?” My stomach constricted tighter and tighter. I gripped the headboard to steady myself.
    â€œWe’re gonna LIM and love it!”
    â€œYou don’t have an itemized list of ruins, monuments, or views to see for each country?”
    â€œLIM!”
    â€œGrandma,” I said in the sternest tone I could manage. “I’d prefer a plan.”
    She got up and stretched. “Well, it’s time for you to hit the sack and for me to get a glass of red. How’s that for a plan?”
    I felt dizzy. I’d never been without a plan before in my entire life. Every single day was precisely mapped out. Take my typical schedule posted on the refrigerator back at home:

    VASSAR SPORE’S DAILY ROUTINE
    5:45 a.m. Arise and exercise!
    6:10 a.m. Shower and grooming and Attitude Check (It’s not a zit, it’s a blemish!)
    6:39 a.m. Eat breakfast while perusing goals for the day
    7:04 a.m. Take ferry to school
    8:15 a.m.–3:15 p.m. High School classes—mostly Advanced Placement (5.3 is the new 4.0!)
    3:15 p.m.–4:15 p.m. Extracurricular activities
    4:32 p.m. Take ferry home
    5:30-6:30 p.m. Garden or Boggle with Mom; listen to NPR while making dinner with Dad
    6:30 p.m. Spore Family Dinner (Time to listen, time to share, let’s show we care!)
    7:00 p.m.–8:00 p.m. Hour of Reflection
    8:00p.m.–9:30p.m. Homework
    9:30 p.m.–10:00 p.m. Positive Visualization Exercises (I’m holding the Pulitzer in my hand as I step up to the podium … . )
    10:00 p.m. Lights-out
    Â 
    And, come to think of it, her “Live in the Moment” shouldn’t be LIM, but LITM—if you wanted to be perfectly accurate.
    â€œHad you given me more advance notice,” I said, “I could have researched online and come up with a travel itinerary—”
    â€œKiddo, relax. Get some sleep. You’re stressing over nothing.”

    As she opened the door, I blurted out:
    â€œWhat are you blackmailing my parents about?”
    She froze. Then turned back around to face me. Her eyes examined my face. Cocking her head to the side like a pigeon, she said, “Run that by me again.”
    â€œI heard you on the phone.”
    â€œEavesdropping? Not very Spore-like.” But she seemed pleased.
    â€œI know you’re holding something over Mom’s and Dad’s heads—that was the only reason they let me come. Mom even had a nervous breakdown.”
    â€œShe did?” She seemed surprised. “Althea?”
    â€œDoes it have something to do with why you haven’t visited us in the last sixteen years?”
    She smiled. “Maybe I’m allergic to the Pacific Northwest.”
    â€œThen what’s The Big Secret?”
    After a moment, she shrugged. “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œYes, you do,” I persisted. “Even Mom and Dad admit there’s a secret. They just won’t tell me what it is.”
    â€œWell, if there is a secret, what makes you think I’d tell you?”
    â€œSo there is a Spore Family Secret that everyone’s keeping from me?”
    She deposited a half-eaten durian wedge on my nightstand and, after giving my shoulder a quick squeeze, she was gone.
    I took that as a “yes.” And as a challenge. I’d been up
against