First World Problems

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

“Good afternoon, Anne.” Every word hurt.

Anne eased into the chair next to Dad and rested her hand on his arm. At her touch, Dad let out a breath and his shoulders went from high and rock-solid to normal. The blue vein in his neck that that had been pulsing since I arrived even receded, and his balding forehead turned from bright pink back to normal.

“Sofia, you know I work for I.D.I.? International Development Initiatives?”

I nodded. When we met, I’d thought she was in real estate development like Dad. It turned out that I.D.I. was basically a Peace Corps clone.

I knew that Anne’s do-gooding was what kept Dad following her around like a helpless puppy dog to all her talks and conferences, which was all well and good most of the time. Just not on my birthday.

“Yes. How was your speech?” I added a razor edge to my voice. Maybe it would remind her of her and Dad’s betrayal.

“Wonderful. In fact, it fueled their decision to move me up to South American project manager just yesterday.”

Dad looked at her, his mouth twisted into a grim half-frown. Shouldn’t he be happy that she got promoted? He cleared his throat and squeezed Anne’s hand. “And it’s what enabled her to pull some strings to arrange for you to do a service year in lieu of your studies in Paris.”

Every word out of Dad’s mouth made sense, but his message? No… Service year in lieu of studies in Paris? Surely they didn’t mean…

Dad didn’t meet my gaze. “You’ll postpone your freshman year in Paris and work on a South American team for the year instead.”

No. That concept was not in my lexicon.

Quick breaths rushed in and out of my nose, and my face contorted, though I couldn’t imagine what it possibly could have looked like. Poise and control weren’t just slipping out of my grasp—they had hailed a cab and hopped my flight to Paris. Without me.

“The International Development Initiative is very prestigious. Competitive,” Anne said with slow, measured nods and an expression of forced calm. She looked like a fucking hostage negotiator.

“I…I don’t understand.” That was all I could manage, even though, at least on a basic level, I understood perfectly.

“I think it will be good for you, Sofia, to see how most of the world lives. To understand exactly how privileged your situation is.” Dad’s voice mimicked the same calm as Anne’s. Damn her, she was rubbing off on him. I almost missed the humongous vein in his neck. “To understand that food and shelter, let alone disposable income, are not givens for the vast majority of humans on this planet.” He cleared his throat again, like he was trying to work up the courage to say something. Good. He should be afraid of me now because I could feel the explosion building, and when I went off, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “To appreciate what you have.”

“This is ridiculous.” The barely restrained fury rising in my chest bled through my whispered reply.

Anne shifted in her seat. “I’ve secured you a spot in Guyana. Inland, near the Amazon rainforest. It’s not the beach, but Georgetown, Guyana’s largest city, has too many dangers for young women. Your father didn’t want to send you there, and I agree. But Dabu is one of the most coveted spots in I.D.I. It only takes two new fellows each year.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel, what, Anne? Grateful?” Ah, here it was. The blowup. The complete loss of control. My voice rose in volume and octave. I felt just as much disgust for myself as for Anne and Dad, but I knew this was inevitable. It was my last chance of getting out of this.