The project had three main pillars: getting organized, being a better friend and family member, and not using booze and men as an escape from reality. Instead, she was using an apprenticeship in a foreign country to escape, which was clearly much healthier.
“Three months in Scotland? Making swords? This sounds like a great opportunity! Can you tell me a bit more about what you hope to get out of it? Moving to another country is exciting, but also a huge change. You’ve talked about the urge to run away before . . .”
Change was exactly what Portia wanted, and even her therapist Dr. Lewis’s annoying but necessary questions hadn’t deterred her. If anything, they’d made her even more resolved to go.
She’d had this romantic idea of summer in Scotland, running through the moors with the Highland winds whispering her life’s purpose in her ears. Instead, she was alone at the station, forgotten. This was more like stepping into a smelly bog and realizing there was no easy way to extricate herself.
A horn honked, and when she glanced up, a small blue car that managed to be boxy and egg-shaped at the same time had pulled up. A man with spiked brown hair stuck his head out the window.
“Portia?”
The license plate matched what was shown on the app, though the Vauxhall was slightly more dented than the one in the image on her phone.
“Hi. Kevyn?” She watched his eyes light up.
“An American!” His tone was one of slightly disgusted squee, like when a New Yorker spotted a rat carrying a slice of pizza to its subterranean lair, or a pigeon taking a bath in an oily puddle.
He hopped out and began loading her luggage into the trunk; it was a tight fit considering the car’s toylike size.
Portia: My car is here. You two make sure to get some rest. I’m going to try calling the armory again.
Nya: Okay! Be safe! I hope the rest of your day goes better!
Ledi: Let me know when you get there. If you don’t, Thabiso will call the Thesoloian embassy there and have them send out SWAT. Is there SWAT in Scotland? SCWAT? You know what I mean.
Ledi was still somewhat new to this royalty business, but would clearly use what pull she had to protect Portia if necessary. That knowledge eased the tension in Portia’s neck a bit. Someone had her back, even if only through an invisible link between their mutual phones.
Kevyn moved around to open one of the car’s two doors and pulled the passenger seat forward so she could slide into the backseat. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped in the back of a random car, but it couldn’t be worse than loitering around the station.
“In you go, my lady,” he said jovially and Portia forced a smile as she climbed in.
“First time here?” he asked. “Work or pleasure?”
How is he so chipper? she thought crankily, then remembered it was his job to engage with the strangers getting into his car. Maybe he’d also had a shitty night, but he wasn’t going to take it out on her, was he? It wasn’t his fault she was in a bad mood. Besides, if she knew anything it was how to feign polite conversation. Faux niceties had been ingrained in her through years of deportment lessons and dealing with her parents’ rich family friends.
“Thank you. Yes, it’s my first time,” she said. She’d traveled extensively, but somehow never made it to Scotland. “I’m here for work.”
“Welcome to Edinburgh,” Kevyn said, hopping into the front seat. “You’re gonna love summer here. As long as you enjoy rain, that is. And darkness. And drink.”
So her hair was going to be jacked up, she was going to be depressed, and one of the two things she was trying to avoid most was going to be a constant temptation? Awesome.
She closed her eyes and inhaled, allowing herself a moment to settle as the car carried her toward her destination. She was in Scotland. She was starting a new adventure. She should be excited and ready for anything, not focusing on the negative. This was not the vibe she wanted to put out into the universe.
I am the heroine of my own story. I choose my own path . . .
Portia’s phone chimed and she jumped up in her seat, disoriented and unsure of where she was. She’d nodded off for a second. She glanced out the car window; they were on a residential street now, with rows of squat brick houses.
A message from her twin sister, Reggie, slid into view on her phone screen.
Hey. Did you arrive? Thanks for finding that information about that . . . thing.
It’d been weird when Reggie asked Portia to find one of her online friends who had disappeared, it’d been weirder when Portia had discovered the friend was a guy, and it was peak weird that Reggie was now referring to it as “that thing,” but Portia wouldn’t pry.
I did. And no prob! You know I love playing internet detective.
She saw the three dots that indicated Reggie was typing and wondered if she’d get an explanation, but apparently none was forthcoming.
Do you want to do posts for GirlsWithGlasses/Adventure while you’re there? I understand if you won’t have the time, with all your swordmaking and whatnot, but I’d love it if you could. Readers were super into the first post about the call for an apprentice and when I said you’d been chosen. Plus people like the Wonder Twins aspect of us making content together. I like it too, tbh. Later, loser.
Portia smiled. She and Reggie were still in the process of rebuilding their relationship, mostly via chatting about Reggie’s popular site, GirlsWithGlasses. It was Reggie who had forwarded Portia the link about the apprenticeship after one of her followers had sent it in for the weekly Cool Opportunities posting. Another key aspect of Project: New Portia—stop putting up roadblocks in her relationship with her sister.
I can def write posts. I’m on it! Portia replied, then decided to try to call her boss again.
“Hey, Oracle. Call Bodotria Armory, please.”
“What’s that, lass?” Kevyn asked.
“Just talking to my phone,” she responded brightly, her gaze automatically heading to the left of the car before readjusting and flicking to the right, where it landed on the back of his head. The phone kept ringing and she was sure that this time someone would answer, but then she heard the familiar click as she was transferred to voice mail.
“You say ‘please’ to your phone? I didn’t expect an American to be so polite.”
“I just want to be spared when our AI overlords take power.”
Kevyn laughed. “Did you get a hold of anyone at the armory? Not sure anyone is about now. The area is by the docks and pretty deserted this early.”
Portia shoved a hand into the Birkin and rearranged the mess so that her pepper spray sat atop all the other crap she’d stuffed into the giant bag.
“I’m texting with my boss now,” Portia lied. Kevyn didn’t need to know that she was in a strange country for the first time and that the only people who should have been expecting her likely wouldn’t notice she was missing.
“Tav knows how to send an sms? He’s finally getting it together now that he’ll have you for an apprentice, eh?” Kevyn caught her eye in the rearview mirror and Portia stiffened, though he was grinning. This had gone from friendly to stalkative way too quickly for her liking.
She was too tired and frustrated to be polite. “Am I going to have to mace you?”
He barked out a laugh and smacked the wheel. “Aye! Definitely American! Don’t stress,” he said. “I take lessons at the armory, and everyone’s been on about the American apprentice arriving this week. Cheryl said she’d stalked her InstaPhoto account and the woman was beautiful and glamorous, and seeing as how you’re going to the armory and you’re . . .”
Portia didn’t think psychopaths had the ability to blush as bright red as Kevyn was up in the driver’s seat, so she relaxed her hold on the pepper spray. Besides, anyone who would call her glamorous after the hours she’d spent in transit deserved the benefit of the doubt.
Her anxiety about her apprenticeship eased, but then ratcheted up a notch. People were discussing her and excited for her arrival?
Are they in for a disappointment.