Up Over Down Under (2 page)

About twelve hours into her trip, it struck Eliza Ritter that Australia was
very
far away. She had left Washington, D.C., early that morning on a flight for Los Angeles, and after a six-hour “hop” and an hour layover in the L.A. airport she'd boarded this flight to end all flights. She had been on this plane for five hours now and wasn't even near the halfway point. It was an unholy fourteen and a half hours from Los Angeles to Melbourne, Australia, and the initial thrill of traveling on her own was wearing very thin. She had read through her copies of
Star
,
In Touch
, and
Us Weekly
and now was examining the movie selections to see what could while away some more of the time. By her calculations, there were nine and a half hours left on this plane. If the average movie was about two hours, that meant four movies and a catnap and she'd be there.
Voilà!

Eliza had been ready for this trip.
More
than ready. Not that she didn't like her home life—the truth was that seeing herself in news pictures alongside her father at various events made her prouder than she'd ever admit—but lately, she'd been feeling sort of…well, smothered.

Her parents weren't overprotective like some kids' parents were, but what they were was, in a word,
conscientious
. They were conscientious of how they appeared in the media, and conscientious of the image they projected, separate or together, each and every time one or all of them stepped out of their house.

While most girls Eliza's age were posting party pictures of themselves on Facebook, Eliza had to be 150 percent sure that any blog post she ever wrote was friends-locked to the nth degree. Discretion was key. And frankly, it was exhausting.

She'd been happy to play the part of “first daughter” because she was an unabashed Daddy's Girl, and, well… there were perks in the whole process. Like having a private hairstylist and makeup artist to prep you for fancy Washington parties—or even attending those parties in the first place. That was fun.

But, yes—it was also exhausting. And what Australia promised was a chance to fly solo, even for a few blissful, if short, months. A chance to cut loose.

To be completely honest, Eliza wasn't totally sure that she even knew what it meant to “cut loose,” so controlled had things been up until this very moment. But that was the whole point of this trip. And she was for darn sure going to make it her business to learn—
pronto.

When Eliza had first read about the S.A.S.S. exchange program, she just knew that she had to sign up. She didn't know where she wanted to be placed, but at that point, anywhere other than Washington sounded like Shangri-la. Based on photo research conducted mainly in the form of celebrity gossip magazines, France and Australia quickly rose to the top of the list. Unfortunately, her father pointed out that two years of French lessons probably would not be enough to get her through a semester of classes in Paris.

Australia was the obvious choice, then. Besides, what could be wrong with spending a semester in the place that produced hotties like Eric Bana and Hugh Jackman?

There were several cities to choose from, and Eliza weighed her options carefully. She looked at the three largest cities: Melbourne—a funky city in the south, Sydney—the biggest city and very cosmopolitan (and also home to that cool opera-house thing on the bay), and lastly Brisbane—near the Great Barrier Reef and a stretch of beach called the Gold Coast.

Brisbane sounded amazing—what could be bad about a Gold Coast? The only problem was that her school wasn't offering an exchange to Brisbane.

That left Melbourne and Sydney. To settle things, she decided to ask her friend Allison's mom for advice. To Eliza, there was something ultimately less objectionable in seeking parental advice from a parent who wasn't one's own. Mrs. Shifton was a deputy undersecretary of something or other and had traveled all over the world. She had a sort of know-it-all air about her and was prone to correcting Allison's grammar with annoying regularity. But again, she wasn't Eliza's mother, and therefore her advice to Eliza was welcome. Mrs. Shifton considered the question and then announced, quite definitively, that Sydney was the place she should go.

That settled it. Eliza went home and checked the box for Melbourne. After sixteen years of doing nothing
but
listening to her parents, it was time to make a decision completely and entirely on her own.

So here she was, pondering the future, at least as far as the next nine hours were concerned. She'd left a lot behind in D.C. She had been dating Parker Green since the spring of sophomore year. He was very cute, smart, and charming, and he got along with all of her friends—not to mention, he was a parents' dream—but to Eliza, Australia was a big, life-changing opportunity, and she was determined to make the most of it. Going strings-free meant going truly strings-free, which meant taking a break from the long-term guy, even if he was a sweetie. As much as she knew she'd miss Parker, Eliza also knew that an exchange semester worth doing was an exchange semester worth doing right.

Eliza had been going to school with the same kids since preschool. She knew everyone and, frankly, they knew
her.
When the idea of studying abroad first came up, Eliza realized that this could be a chance not only to flex her independence, but also to reinvent herself. She could find some new friends and have some new experiences. And most important, she could do all that without being under the watchful eyes of the Washington elite.

Australia was
very
far from Washington and all those eyes. Australia was eyeless. Australia was, for all intents and purposes, blind.

Blind was good, in this case. In this case, blind was very, very good.

As for Parker, well, she was young, and she would be traveling halfway around the world. She told Parker that she wanted to take a break, and that if they were meant to be, they'd find themselves together again when she was back. Parker's response, a slightly puzzled “huh,” wasn't exactly the enthusiastic agreement that Eliza had been hoping for, but at least she'd made it through a difficult conversation. She honestly didn't know what the future held for Parker and her. But in a way, that was just the point—suddenly, she honestly didn't know what the future held, period. For the first time,
ever,
her entire life wasn't carefully mapped out on a calendar, or committed to her mother or father's BlackBerry.

It was terrifying. But it was thrilling, too.

She checked her watch impatiently. Eight hours and forty-three minutes still to go. The fact that her father's executive assistant had scored her an upgrade to business class was only a small consolation. Eight hours was a
long
time no matter how much legroom you had.

Eliza yawned and glanced around the cabin, trying to figure out which passengers were Americans going to Australia and which were Australians going back home. She stood, shaking her legs out, and wandered up the aisle into the galley, all the while keeping her eyes peeled for signs of life.

Score!
Standing in the galley was an unattended bowl of chocolate cookies—
that
was what she needed. Dumb romantic comedies and action movies always went better with snacks. Eliza quickly checked to make sure no one was watching, then ducked into the serving area and grabbed a handful of the cookies. She rationalized her rule bending by promising herself that she'd pass on the cookies when the flight attendants brought them around the cabin later.

Home free, she backed out of the galley…only to collide with a somewhat impatient-looking flight attendant.

The flight attendant raised a questioning eyebrow in Eliza's direction. “Are you all set with your cookies, then?”

Eliza nodded, feeling slightly panicked. “I think I'm having a low-blood-sugar thing,” she explained, wondering if she was pushing her luck with the fib.

Miraculously, the flight attendant seemed to buy it. Her expression softened. “In that case,” she said, holding the bowl of cookies out for Eliza, “why don't you take another?”

Eliza shrugged. “Um, okay. If you insist,” she said, now grinning for real. “I mean, better safe than sorry, right?”

She returned to her seat and placed her headphones on, settling back for a movie and munching away contentedly on her contraband snacks.

So far, this “independence” thing was working out kind of nicely…even if she
had
just been caught with her hands in the cookie jar.