Dear Lane,
Guess what? I'm writing this from a plane over the Atlantic Ocean on my way to London! Isn't that great? After growing up in New York, I'm sure London will feel old hat, but I can't wait anyway. I'm hoping to get a glimpse of Prince William! Isn't he dreamy?
Love,
Stacey
It was amazing how quickly everything happened after the Pikes and Mr. Wells said we could go to London. Fortunately we all already had passports (at Kristy's insistence – what if a family called and wanted a mother's helper to accompany them out of the country), or we never could have gotten them in time.
Convincing my parents turned out to be the hardest part. Because I'm diabetic and have been so sick I've had to be hospitalized at points, they tend to be a bit overprotective. Mr. Wells assured them that they were used to accommodating people with special diets at the Slayers and Watchers Academy (except he gave them they same "Writing Camp" story Jessi gave her parents). That reassured them, and actually, it made me hopeful too. Did he mean there were other diabetics there? I had never met someone else with diabetes before.
By the time I got a chance to ask him, though, I was completely preoccupied. What was I going to pack? More importantly, what were my friends going to pack? The last thing I wanted when I met Prince William was a repeat of the time the BSC visited me in New York and Mary Anne dressed like someone out of Little House on the Prairie. Claudia and I spent the next several days trying on outfit after outfit and calling our friends to offer suggestions. I was pretty proud of my wardrobe; it definitely screamed "sophisticated." But Claudia was on a whole new level and put together some absolutely fantastic outfits for our trip. She's so creative.
Anyway, between packing, finding people to cover our sitting jobs, and saying goodbye to our favorite charges (Charlotte Johannsen and I spent a lot of time together), the few days before we left just flew by. First thing Tuesday morning, it was time to go to the airport.
We had quite a time going through security. I have no idea how Mr. Wells and Illyria kept all their weapons hidden, but they didn't have a problem. Claudia, on the other hand, wasn't allowed to take her flaming torch earrings on the plane no matter how much she protested that they were just a fashion accessory, and Jessi and Mallory both had crossbows confiscated from the lining of their suitcase. I swear to God, those two read entirely too many geeky fantasy novels. Everyone knows that boys are just not attracted to girls who pack heat.
I won't tell you too much about the flight. I wrote some postcards (I love sending mail to people almost as much as I like receiving it – I think it really helps them feel like they were there too), watched the movie, and even caught up on all the issues of YM! magazine I hadn't had time to read during the school year. Just because it's summer doesn't mean you should slack off on your reading and academics.
Fortunately, Mom had packed me a lunch for the plane, because they were serving lasagna with processed cheese. A lot of people don't realize there's sugar in processed cheese, but there is; that's the kind of thing that makes it so hard to be a diabetic. I felt bad because I didn't have enough food to share with Dawn (the lasagna had meat in it), but she didn't seem to notice and ate the airplane meal anyway.
It was late evening when we arrived in London. Mr. Wells led us through customs and out to a shuttle bus that had "St. Mildred's Academy for Girls" stenciled on the side. Claudia was puzzled.
"But that's not the Slayers and Watchers Academy," she said loudly. A few passers-by turned and stared. I swear, for a girl who reads so much Nancy Drew you'd think she'd be a little better at keeping secrets. Even if she doesn't have the practice I've gotten through my many clandestine love affairs.
Embarrassed, we filed onto the bus. A bit of a shock greeted us, because it turned out the drive was bright green and had horns. Just little ones, but still. Behind me, Mary Anne gasped.
"Oh my God, Stacey!" she exclaimed, "That's a rare cousin of the Ana-Movic demon family! They're hardly ever found outside of Africa." The driver glared at us and I smiled at him apologetically. I've come to expect these things when traveling with Mary Anne.
Mary Anne is a real guide book freak. I guess that extends to demon guide books too, now that she knows they exist. She's a little weird about things like that. Honestly, I was just hoping she spend all her time reading up on demons so we'd be spared a year-by-year history of every building in London. Because some of those buildings are really old.
I don't remember much about the bus trip. Once I got used to being on the wrong side of the road (which really wasn't so different from a lot of New York cab rides I've been on), it was pretty uneventful. Once we got off the freeway, we wound our way through street after street filled with identical buildings made of white brick. I hoped I wouldn't have to try to find this place again by myself. Eventually, we pulled up outside one of the buildings. It looked just like all the others we had passed except this one had a big metal sign over the door reading "St. Mildred's Academy for Girls," just like on the bus. It was a lot smaller than I'd pictured it.
Mr. Wells led us inside. In the entryway three people stood waiting to greet us. Mr. Wells gestured at them dramatically.
"Girls. I'd like you to meet Rupert Giles, Head Watcher and Dean." The first man he introduced was of medium height and build. He wore a conservative tweed suit and glasses, and he was probably about my father's age. Although, actually, he wasn't half bad looking. Hmm.
Next, Mr. Wells introduced a woman named Faith, who he said was a Slayer and Instructor. She was young, with long dark hair, and wore really tight leather pants. They were probably the chilliest pants I had ever seen; I wondered where she bought them.
The last man was even hotter than the first, and was tall with bleached blonde hair. Mr. Wells introduced him as Spike. I licked my lips a little when I thought about where that name probably came from.
I realized that Mr. Giles, Faith and Spike were all staring at us.
"You found seven new Slayers in one tiny Connecticut town?" asked Mr. Giles. He looked like he didn't think he was going to like the answer very much.
"What kind of Hellmouth action do they have going on down there?" asked Faith casually. God, she was cool. I could just tell. Even cooler than my friend Lane, and she has a boyfriend named King.
Mr. Wells laughed. "No, no. Only this one," he pointed at Mallory, "is a Slayer. The rest are baby-sitters. I figured Clem could use some help."
Mr. Giles just glared.
"Are you telling me you took six pre-adolescent girls away from their families and across the bloody Atlantic Ocean to help in our daycare center." He was even dreamier when he was mad. I'd have to remember that for any future encounters.
"Where," he continued, "are you expecting them to stay? There's barely room for the Slayers in the Slayers dormitory."
"Why don't they stay with Angel?" asked Spike, with an evil grin. Which, incidentally, made him even hotter. I was going to like it here. "He has that spare bedroom."
Faith snickered at this. Mr. Giles just rolled his eyes.
"Very well. I, for one, want no part in it."
"I'll take them," Spike volunteered cheerfully. "Can't wait to see the look on the great poof's face." I wondered what that meant. I'd have to pick up a British Cosmo so I could be down with the local lingo.
"I'm almost tempted to come too," Faith said, "but I should take this one to meet B. and the rest." She pointed at Mallory. "You come with me. I'll get you settled in with the Slayers."
Mallory followed her, looking more than a bit freaked out. I wasn't surprised; Mallory was definitely not the kind of girl who usually hung out with girls in leather pants. In fact, those girls were mostly just mean to her.
She cast one last look over her shoulder and disappeared around a corner. Mr. Giles took Mr. Wells and Illyria off to tell them about a "problem that had developed in their absence," and Spike led us in the opposite direction from the one Faith had taken Mallory. Jessi didn't look too happy about that (not surprising; they are best friends).
As we walked through the corridors, Spike explained to us that someone named Willow had done a spell that made the entrance to the building in London but the rest of it off in the country somewhere. That's why the front of the building looked small. But they had plenty of room for the school and the Watcher's Council (whatever that was) and staff apartments, plus outside training grounds in the back. As we entered the staff apartment section, the style of the building began to change. It looked sleeker and more modern, like my father's apartment building in New York.
We stopped in front of apartment number 315. Spike knocked rhythmically on the door.
Nobody answered and he started pounding. Finally, a tall, dark-haired man, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel, came to the door.
"Spike," he growled. "What the hell do you want?"
I didn't hear Spike's answer because I was too busy staring at the man who entered the door. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen in my life.
I had crushes before, but this. . . this was real. I was in luv. I just stood there for a minute, watching the water drip off his bare chest and prominent brow.
After a minute, I was startled out of my reverie when I realized Spike and Angel were in the middle of a full fledged argument.
"Nothing you can do about it, Angel, my friend," Spike was saying jovially. "This one comes straight from Giles."
"That's not fair!" Angel complained bitterly. "He just doesn't like me. I apologized for the murder and the torture and even for the evil law firm thing. And most of that wasn't even technically my fault."
"Well, consider it your penance," Spike snickered, "Maybe this'll push you over the edge into shanshu-redemption-land."
"Yeah, maybe, if I hadn't signed it away in an attempt to redeem myself for all the other stuff. What am I supposed to feed them anyway? I don't exactly have thirteen year old girl food sitting in my refrigerator." He glanced at us cautiously before continuing. "You know we don't have compatible diets. And do they even know about that?"
Oh my God, this must be why we had such a connection! Angel was diabetic too! We really were soulmates! And he was nervous about telling us. He must think we'd reject him like those mean girls at school did when they found out I was diabetic. Well, I wouldn't say anything just yet; I'd wait for him to open up.
"No, I left that part of it for you to explain. As to food, I hear while you were off brooding they invented grocery stores. Have a good couple of weeks!" Spike whistled his way down the hall. Angel looked at us.
"Alright, come in, all of you. I'll see if I can scrounge up some extra blankets." I looked at him adoringly. This was going to be the best trip of my life.