Author's Note:

It's a real update this time, friends! I'm not really happy with the chapter, but hopefully you will be. Thank you all so much for your feedback on my question and your continued support of the story. You humble and amaze me.

We're coming into the home stretch here – only a few chapters left – so I hope you're still enjoying the ride.

And please keep your eyes on BBC for more news on Kenya. When I checked this morning, there was more violence in the Rift Valley, which is not far from Nairobi, and home to some dear friends of mine.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Oh, that's a beautiful ring," the headmistress, Mrs. Carins, commented. "When's your big day?"

I glance down at my ring and put on my brightest smile. "March 10th." Of course, I was leaving out the minor detail that we were having three weddings and not so much one, but mentioning that would have required more detail than I felt was necessary for a woman that I had literally met 47 minutes ago.

"So, I've gathered the pupils in the great hall and instructed them to arrive with a pencil and a hard surface to write on. Is that all they'll need?"

"Besides grace for my attempts at humor, no," I replied. "That should settle them."

She smiled and we both noticed the time. Grabbing one last cookie – sorry, biscuit, I forgot where I was – and gulping down my tea, I continued my explanation. "The presentation and discussion usually lasts about 90 minutes. You had mentioned that I have until half ten, is that correct?"

Mrs. Carins indicated that I should follow her to the room where my equipment was already set up. It was slowly filling up with students who had elected to take my workshop.

Today I was at Methodist College in Belfast, which was one of the best grammar schools in the country, and arguably in the entire United Kingdom. Oxfam had flown me over as part of our partnership with DATA, Christian Aid and World Vision to educate "western" students about the realities that aren't shown on their television. Since I had lived in Belfast before, I was probably one of the more qualified Americans to chat to a group of the best the island had to offer. To be completely honest, I wasn't entirely sure why I had been asked to do this little jaunt, but I wasn't about to complain. Not only do I love Northern Ireland and any opportunity that I get to visit, but this time Troy got to come as well.

Speaking of my pretty photographer, I checked my watch quickly. It was about 9:55am, which means that he's probably just ambling himself out of bed back in the hotel.

The headmistress calmed the chattering students and introduced me. In the half-second before she handed me the microphone, there was the familiar feeling of gut-wrenching panic. For the next 90 minutes, I was going to be expected to part educate and part entertain, and everyone who paid for me to be here expected me to change their lives. It was a fairly daunting task, especially when some of them are wearing their best "okay, you blonde American, show me what you've got" expression.

Most of them, I knew, were there to fulfill a requirement for graduation. Methody, as the school was affectionately called, had a program that required their students to know what was going on in the world outside of the university sector of Belfast. They had to accumulate so many credits by attending lectures and other cross-cultural experiences.

For a speaker, that meant that I should never expect them to care. It's something that I've learned in my year at this job. I expected everyone to desperately care about refugee women in Darfur and I discovered that… well… that's just not always the case. At first, that just made me really angry. Really, really angry. I just couldn't understand. I would stand in Troy's kitchen, railing about "those self-indulgent suburban spoiled brats", much to his amusement.

I couldn't even begin to comprehend how a really high score on some ridiculous XBOX game could be more important than millions and millions of preventable deaths from poverty each year.

Then, midway through the summer, I realized that upper-middle class suburban white kids were not bad people. It was so far outside of their realm of possibility than for me to expect that my lecture would revolutionize their lives was unfair. Of course, that doesn't completely absolve them. But I can't completely hate them.

It didn't help, by the way, for Troy and Gabi to remind me that I would have been the girl filing my nails in the back of the room during any of these shenanigans. Like the chick in fourth row was doing right now.

"Hiya, pals!" I greeted them, "Like Mrs. Carins said, my name is Sharpay Evans and I work for Oxfam International, which is a pretty cool organization and is more than just charity shops. Which, ps, if you shop there, you help pay for a lot of things, including saving the world and my paycheck. So thank you."

I flashed my trademark grin to a sea of chuckles. "I started working for them right out of uni, so it's about eleven years now. I know, I'm old. However, being around Oxfam for that long as allowed me to live in five countries. My favorite being right here in beautiful Norn Iron."

For those last two words, I pulled out my thickest Belfast accent, which had the kids' howling. "I lived here in Belfast for about a year – doing some work at Queen's. My flat wasn't far from here, actually, just off of the Ormeau Road, so it kind of feels like coming home today.

"What else do you know about me before we get started? Oh, well, I'm not married, yet, but I am engaged to a really pretty boy named Troy. He actually took a lot of the pictures you'll see today, so that's rad. We're getting married in a few months, so I'm pretty excited. My dress is amazing."

I paused for some giggles and I did a fake curtsey. "So, on with the show! What I need y'all to do – when I say go and not a moment before – is to divide up in groups of eight. I think that your teachers can help with that process. Each of you will be given a sheet of paper with a phrase or the name of a country on it. I want you, in your groups, when I say 'go', to write everything you can think of about that term or country. Seriously, nothing is off limits. Write things you've heard or things you felt about them. Whatever. You've got about five minutes and then we'll discuss together. Ok? Ready, set, go."

As I pushed a button on my powerpoint slide, the sounds of Coldplay came through the sound system to provide background noise to the din of shuffling humanity. I took a sip of my water and began my usual routine of peeking over shoulders.

One of the things that I have loved about working with students – especially ones in the UK – was how uncensored they often are. The words they were being asked to respond to were somewhat intense. Things like "sectarianism" and "racism" and "sexuality". The responses are … always interesting. The countries were some of the ones that I know well – Kenya and Rwanda and America – and some that I've only read about – Venezuela, Sierra Leone, Sri Lanka.

For the next hour and a half or so, I was going to make them angry and stretch them and gross them out and yell at them and make them laugh… and hopefully shift their realities enough that they use their overpriced education and change the world.

Sigh

I love my job.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Click

What I love the most about this moment is that she has no idea that I'm here.

Click

I've seen Shar do her thing before – you know, emotionally and mentally bitch-slap the future world leaders – but to see her do it in a school she's so familiar with is … well… okay, I'm totally turned on.

Click

She thinks that I'm still in bed, I'm sure, since I rarely like to emerge from under the covers before the hours hit double digits, but I figured that a covert photo shoot was in order. So I'm hidden in the back corner, wearing a suit coat that I bought at Marks and Spenser's this morning, desperately hoping to blend in.

She's talking about the affects of globalization right now and I know that she's prepared to hear some backlash for some of the things that she's saying. Then again, if someone didn't react to Shar's opinions on American world domination and the age of colonialism (as that's what she calls it), she'd clearly be having an off day.

Bzzzz Bzzzz Bzzz Bzz

With a look of desperate apology to the faculty sitting around me, I dig my Blackberry (or crackberry, as Shar calls it) out of my pocket.

Talked to Ryan. Everything's set to use the club. Have you looked into dates at Gracia yet?

It's about 1am in California right now and Gabi is planning my wedding. Er, weddings. I suppose that Nate is awake, so therefore, so is she.

Shar and I, as we were figuring out to do this whole getting married thing, we realized that there was no way that we could encompass everything that we were in one ceremony. So we settled on three – the official ceremony in Albuquerque and then two other ceremonies in Nairobi and San Diego. Most of the people that Sharpay knew and loved from Kenya could not afford to fly over for the wedding, as much as they wanted to, and we wanted to honor their desire to see us get married. Besides, Yusef is promising a "traditional Kenyan ceremony" and who wouldn't want one of those? San Diego, to be honest, was more to make sure that the official one was small. We figured that there were a lot of people that we would be socially obligated to invite and that really wasn't what we wanted to be about.

Gabi, of course, took it upon herself to plan out the details. She claimed that it was because she needed something to focus on besides Nate, but I think that it's also that there were a lot of things about their wedding that were quite out her control and so she's doing the vicarious living thing.

So the Albuquerque ceremony was going to be a Lava Springs. This was going to be a bit of a nightmare for Shapray, since the most contact she had had with her parents in about ten years was a phone call once a month and then any information she could glean through Ryan. Thankfully, Ryan was still the golden child (having produced a grandchild and all), so he was running interference.

Dinah said she was looking into it. I'll bug her.

"Okay, kids," I heard Sharpay call from the stage. "I'm going to want you to break up into your groups again. Your teachers are going to give you each a paragraph about a real person's life situation. I've actually met all of the people you'll be talking about. I want you to read the scenario and then discuss it. The people have all asked you guys questions, so make sure you discuss your answers. Ready, set, go."

The music started up again, this time it was a Guster song from forever ago, and I felt my phone buzz again.

Is the jacket from Marks'?

I looked up to see her grinning at me from the stage.

Yeah, bought it on my way here. Tried to blend in.

I saw her giggle a little and could almost make out that she rolled her eyes. I'm sure she did.

A: You're about ten years younger than anyone you're sitting with. B: the jacket doesn't match your pants. C: I could pick out your eyes from anywhere. Nice try, though, you're adorable.

It doesn't match? Dammit.

How much longer does this go?

That probably wasn't the best way to ask that question.

Bored?

Yeah, definitely not.

NOT AT ALL. You're amazing. This seat, however, is not and my ass is starting to get numb.

I could hear her laugh over the music.

I've got about fifteen more minutes and then I have to pack up. The headmistress invited me to lunch in her dining room. I should probably go.

Will the food be any good?

Probably not. But it might be curry.

OH! I love curry.

I know.

So I finally get you to myself in about two hours?

Yeah, probably, why?

Because I want to show you how hot you are doing this.

Gross, Bolton. I'm talking about poverty.

Yeah, it's a turn-on.

You are such a boy.

Excellent observation.

I heard the song coming to a close and settled back in to watch the conclusion. My phone vibrated one more time.

You being here? Amazing. I love you.

I smiled and replied in kind. I saw her take a deep breath and pick the microphone back up. "Okay, pals! Come on back."

I'm marrying a woman that's capable of keeping 450 high school students in the palm of her hand, all while shaking the foundations of what they consider to be normal.

I'm totally marrying up.