Free Plus by Veronica Chambers Page A

“I’m going to miss two of your lectures next week and was hoping that you’d give me the assignments in advance. I know I only got a B on the last quiz, but I’m going to hire a tutor as soon as I get back from Italy.”
    She rolled her eyes and let out a big exaggerated sigh. “But that’s a little like a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound, isn’t it?”
    A few FYIs:
    One, there’s no way in Hades I’m not going to Italy.
    Two, I would hardly call a 3.2 average a “gunshot wound.” It’s a B. It’s not great if you’re on the major track, like I am. But it’s not that far off, and I’m going to fix things.
    “Well, Professor, what do you suggest I do?”
    Her mouth twitched from side to side. She raised an eyebrow. She threw both hands in the air. The woman was incredible, like some sort of fanatical mime. After a few more facial tics, she said, “Well, you’d do well to skip the job and come to class, wouldn’t you?”
    I took a deep breath and then told the itsy bitsiest of lies. “Professor Trotter, I have to take this job in Italy. It’s my only source of income, and I have to work as much as possible if I want to be able to come to Columbia next year. This is a very expensive school.”
    This made a dent. She shrugged. She puffed up both cheeks, then moved the air around from cheek to cheek. Then finally, finally she gave me the assignments.
    As I walked out the door, she said, “It’s a crying shame when students have to work instead of concentrate on their education, isn’t it? But what are you going to do? It’s a money-driven society, eh?”
    Little did she know, I wasn’t doing this for the money. Not really. I was doing it for Brian. Wait till he saw me, modeling in some high-fashion magazine. I knew I had this goofy cat with a mouthful of canary look on my face, but I couldn’t help it. I was going to get Brian back. I was going to Italy on a modeling job, and I didn’t even have to humiliate myself on Top Model to do it. Things were definitely looking up.

9
    Bee Takes Flight
    Did I mention that the closest I’d ever been to Europe was the It’s a Small World After All ride at Disney World? I could hardly tell what geeked me out more: the fact that I was about to go on my first modeling job or the fact that I was headed to Italy. If the Chesterfield Agency hadn’t sent a car to pick me up and take me to the airport, I would’ve never made my flight. I would’ve gotten on the subway and instead of taking the train to JFK, I would’ve ended up at Yankee Stadium. I swear. I’m not wrapped too tight these days.
    Then they flew me business class. Well, on Alitalia they called it “executive class.” Ha! I’m not an executive. I’m a seventeen-year-old freshman who got really, really lucky in Dean and DeLuca.
    Aunt Zo warned me to pass on the free champagne they give out on international flights and not just because I’m underage. “It flows like water up there, and you don’t want to arrive at your first job drunk,” she said. But I made myself completely happy with OJ, the gnocchi that came on a real plate with real silverware, and the cannoli they served for dessert.
    When we landed, I was met at the gate by a woman named Giovanna from the advertising agency in Milan. She looked more like a model than I did. Tall, thin, movie star hair, and movie star sunglasses. She kissed me on both cheeks and said, “Benvenuto, bella.” Giovanna had a porter get my bags, then she led me through customs. Since I was there for work, we didn’t wait in a single line. Giovanna just spoke Italian rapidly and we stormed through.
    A navy blue Mercedes was waiting for us, along with a driver who was so handsome that for the first time in months, I completely forgot about Brian. He drove us to the Villa d’Este. And what can I say? It’s not a hotel, it’s an experience .
    First of all, it’s not really a hotel: it’s a castle, sitting on this beautiful lake. When you walk in, it’s like a