Part 2: Henry's Side:

What exactly are you supposed to wear to Paris? David's parting words to me had been "dress to impress in Paris." I had no idea how to "dress to impress." I pulled on the closet doors again, still wouldn't open. Hank or Joey, my two little brothers, must have stuffed their stuff in here again. Another tug. One more pull, and everything came crashing down on top of me. I heard giggling from the other room; I guess they really had piled all of their stuff in our shared closet, so it could fall on my head.

"Hank, Joey!" I screamed playfully, "I'm going to KILL YOU!!" and I dashed out of the room.

Once I had successfully hung them by their underwear on their bunk bed, like all good older brothers do, I went back to dig through our closet for something to wear. I am a clothing freak. I buy all the name brand clothes, keep them cleaned, iron, etc. I am a neat freak about it too, so imagine finding my brother's dirty underwear inside my jeans, disgusting. I've told my mom time after time that Joey and Hank should get their own closet, but in our small little condo, we don't have the room.

Digging through my closet to get to the back, where all of my nicer clothes hung, I reached for a polo and a nice pair of khakis. Sophisticated, yet charming, wasn't that the rules of "dressing to impress"? bzzt. My blackberry was ringing for the second time this morning, bzzt. I dashed out of the closet and leaped on top of the nightstand where my phone was lying, almost knocking over the dresser right beside me.

"Hello?" I gasped into the phone.

"Ah, Henry, you're awake, charming." David said, trying to give the best English accent over his French one, "Please tell your mother I shall be at your house in two hours so we can make it on time. Do not fritter about like a young boy, I expect you to be ready." And he hung up. David loved accents, and his English one was bizarre, I had never heard him talk so proper before. I listened to his advice ran across the hall to the kitchen to talk to my mother, and finished getting ready for Paris.

The doorbell rang at 12:33, exactly two hours after he had hung up the phone with me. David looked like the perfect model as always; with his pink lacoste polo, designer jeans and black converses. He drove his father's car, a silver Porsche, and when I came to the door he was tapping his foot up and down while staring at the watch that seemed to have magically disappear from his wrist. I gave him my "are you kidding me" look as I closed the door behind me. But instead of him yelling at me, he embraced me.

"Henry, brother," he exclaimed, "onward."

"Really, David." I retorted, "You don't have to do another accent today."

"Ah," he replied "tis the cleansing of the mind and the healing of the soul." And all I could do is shake my head in wonder. How could all the girls "love" him if they had no idea about his strangeness?

As we pulled up to the airport, 15 minutes later, I couldn't spot Cassidy's father's shiny black car, was she late for her own trip? I pondered the question until my eyes stopped on Zach, helping the beautiful Cassidy out of a different rental car, I dashed to the scene of the crime.

"Ah madame-mizelle," he cried as he helped Cassidy out of the car and kissed her on the hand, I shivered, "don't you look elegant this evening!"

I grabbed one of the bags beside me, ran over to Zach and gave him a blow to his head, "Zach's trying to practice for a French girl this evening," I explained, "he's beside himself. He thinks they will all be falling for his "cute looks" and "manly charm." I wished him the best of luck. But I do agree with him, you look dashing."

She smiled at me, either because I had just complimented her, or maybe it was because I had just used the word "dashing." I needed to tell David to stop using such eloquent words, or someday I might be speaking in a fake British accent too. I turned to go find David, when I saw Maddie arriving. This time, beating Zachary to the punch, I dashed over to her car to help her with her things.

"Thanks Henry," she mumbled, blushing, and then Cassidy charged.

"Maddie!" Cassidy yelled as she tackle-hugged her, "Aren't you excited? Paris. All summer! No parents!"

"I cannot believe IM GOING TO PARIS!!" Maddie yelled back, "Thank you thank you!"

Everyone managed to get situated and through all of the security. Chris seemed to have the most luggage; shockingly more than the girls. Kasey was next in line, she had probably stuffed her whole million-dollar closet into that bag. The little televisions in the airport informed us that the plane was going to come early, which meant Paris would start sooner than we expected, that was a good piece of news. The woman at the front desk, I think her name was Sarah, informed us that we would be sitting in rows of two on the plane. Everyone dug through their bags to check their tickets. David took a quick peek at Cassidy's, was he trying to get on my nerves? He already knew that I was madly in love with her. Before everyone could compare with Cassidy, she shrieked, yelled something about needing to go to the bathroom really, really bad and dashed off.

David turned, ticket in hand and crashed into me. His ticket and mine both went sailing to the floor, right on top of one another. Grabbing his ticket and handing it to me, he stuffed my ticket into his pocket. He nodded, a silent you're welcome and got in line. I stared at my ticket, the key to a five hour plane ride to Paris, sitting next to Cassidy.

I sat down in my seat, 16B, making plenty of room for Cassidy beside me. When she walked down the aisle, I couldn't help but grin. I looked over at David and he shot me a dorky thumbs up. I turned towards the window hiding my laughter as Cassidy sat down beside me, sealing our fate.