Chapter 16
sixteen
ASTRID
“Hello. Oh, thank you for joining!”
A ginger girl in a sharp royal blue suit approached with a leather Shalebrook portfolio.
“This is Sora Nettle. She's the Model UN president,” Parker explained. “Sora, this is Astrid. She's the other postgrad assisting.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sora said.
I shook her hand. “Yes, and you, too.”
“Now, is check-in going alright so far? You have everything?”
Parker nodded. “Good here.”
“Good. Once everyone is checked in, can you all help me out? Two of our committee members are out sick.”
She cupped her hand over her mouth and muttered, “Mono. So, we are down two people to run back and forth and give updates to the simulations. We figured you all could handle the Security Council and IAEA. I’ll leave it to you to divvy up.”
“Sure,” I agreed.
A salty look crossed Parker's face. Then, it faded. He realised he'd telegraphed his discontent.
“Fine,” Parker said. “I got outstanding delegate multiple times in uni, so I can manage either.”
I so badly wanted to say, “Well, bully for you, asshole!”
I refrained.
“Here's your updated information then,” Sora handed it over. “We start at nine. Breakfast is wrapping up now. Go help yourselves.”
We thanked her, and she went off.
“You want something?” I asked. “I can run, and you can stay here?”
“Want something what? I am stocked with digestives and tea.”
“Well, I have coffee because I'm very particular. But I figured there might be disappointing pastries or something.”
He snickered. “You're welcome to my digestives.”
“Can you explain what the hell a digestive is?”
Parker cocked his head. “What?”
“What are they? I hear about them over and over again.”
Parker fumbled in his backpack. Yes, the Duke carried a bloody backpack .
“How much is in your backpack?”
“Uh, it's a rucksack ,” he corrected. “I always thought you spoke British English. You sounded more British than whatever you are.”
“I'm Neandian. We speak French,” I explained. “Similar to Belgian French. But I did learn English from English tutors. However, I've never lived in England before.”
“Okay, well, this is a rucksack and these...”
He rummaged and pulled out a roll of something. “Are digestive biscuits.”
“Oh, just like tea biscuits,” I said. “God, I feel stupid!”
“Don't. I suppose this is a Britishism.”
He slightly opened the wrapper, offering me a biscuit dipped in chocolate.
“Thanks.” I bit in.
It was delicious and confirmed with a thumbs up.
“Good. Now you know two more Britishisms.”
“I am sure I will be asking you all a million more questions. I get confused. My brother-in-law speaks American English, and sometimes there’s confusion between him and my sister.”
“What? Really?”
I nodded.
“So you all lived... together.”
“This is the first time I've lived on my own,” I immediately felt stupid.
“Oh. Well, until I went to uni, I never lived alone. Not until uni?”
I sensed it was a dig.
“No, not until now . Can you ever just be nice, Parker? You realise everyone calls you the Dickish Duke, right?”
Parker set his jaw. “I don't care. I don't listen to people. Who told you that?”
I shrugged. “It's unimportant, and I’m insufferable, right?”
Parker deeply breathed, “I feel dreadful for saying that, Astrid. I don’t think that about you. I was cross and defensive and should have been kinder. I was mostly embarrassed. I apologise profusely. Also, I was simply surprised about you not living alone—not passing judgment.”
“Oh.” I backed off. “I appreciate your apology.”
Parker's scowl transformed into an almost-sweet smile. “Would you rather have the Security Council or the IAEA?”
“Security Council,” I answered.
“It’s not important. I suppose it could be good for you to adjust since you’re relatively new to this.”
Parker had no idea Briggs showed me the plan for the simulation yesterday or that I already had a scheme to transfer all the power back to the Security Council. He underestimated me, as usual. I didn’t need his approval but wanted to prove—for once and for all—that I was a formidable strategist rather than a damsel in a tower.