Hugo
He sent the letter off the night before. It had taken him all day to write, which should probably be embarrassing. But it isn’t. In fact, he’s never been prouder of anything. He left it all on the table, and that was the only thing he could do.
His worry was that maybe she had.
Instead, he sent it only to Alfie, with a note that said, If this doesn’t work, I’m with you guys. But I had to try one more time.
Now, as he sees the name Nigel Griffith-Jones pop up on his phone, he fumbles it, knocking his glass over in the process so that the fizzy drink goes spilling all over the bar.
“Sorry,” he says to the bartender, who shakes his head as he reaches for a rag. “I’m so…”
But he doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s too busy reading the email, his eyes skipping over the words.
Dear Mr. Wilkinson,
Thank you for your follow-up letter. While we were looking forward to having all six of you with us for the start of our autumn term—have in fact been looking forward to it for quite some time now—we appreciate the case that you’ve made.
We recognize that university might not be the right path for everyone and that—as you pointed out in your letter—you are, of course, six different people and not a single unit.
As such, we’d like to offer a compromise.
We’re willing to defer the scholarship as long as you’re willing to join us for a few days to take part in the publicity we’ve arranged for the start of term.
The idea would be for you to talk about your upcoming gap year and how you’ll be joining us next autumn instead.
We feel certain the late Mr. Kelly would approve, so if that sounds acceptable, then we’ll see you next month.
And we’ll be excited to hear more about your travels when you join us the following year!
Sincerely,
Nigel Griffith-Jones
Chair of Council University of Surrey
Hugo throws his arms up and lets out a whoop, knocking over the basket of chips. The bartender groans.
“Sorry,” Hugo says again, jumping off his stool to start sweeping them up.
But he’s barely paying attention. His mind is going in a million different directions.
He should tell his brothers and sisters.
He should start narrowing down where he’ll go.
He should tell his parents. He should book a flight. He should tell Mae.
More than anything, he wants to tell Mae.
A little boy has wandered over from a nearby table, and he stares at Hugo as he picks up the chips. Hugo looks up at him with a grin, practically bursting.
“Guess what?” he says. “I’m going to travel the world.”
“Well, I’m going to eat a taco,” the boy says, then runs back over to his table.
Hugo lifts a chip in his direction. “Cheers to that.”
As he stands up again—feeling light-headed and a little dizzy—his eyes land on a map of California on the wall near the cash register. There’s a blue star toward the bottom, the words printed neatly beside it: Los Angeles.
And just like that, he realizes he already knows what his first stop will be.