All This Time

6 ⦿ in which i feel like a second-class citizen

December 22, 2010 11:15 a.m.

With Xander taking the lead, I dutifully follow behind him, Graeme bringing up the rear. "Right this way," Xander tosses over his shoulder as he starts the trek up the stairs in the foyer.

A house this big and it doesn't have an elevator? I must be pretty out of shape because by the time I reach the top, I'm feeling a little out of breath. Graeme gives me a weird look as she overtakes me only a few steps from the top landing. "Here we are!" she sing-songs, traipsing ahead of Xander and leading us to a room in the left wing of the house. We bypass six other doors before we finally stop. "This is your room," she says, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open. "The Yellow Room."

I peep inside and see why it's called the Yellow Room; there is a massive four-poster bed with a floral yellow comforter braced against wood-paneled walls. At the foot of the bed there's an Oriental rug with a design so intricate that I'm positive it was handcrafted by blind Buddhist monks or something else equally as ridiculously expensive. I mentally remind myself not to step directly on it.

There's a nightstand on either side of the bed. The one on the right has a trio of votive candles and a little ceramic white plate which I assume is for jewelry. The nightstand on the left has two fluffy white towels and a smaller one on top for the face. I spy a few tall, skinny bottles of Smart Water laid on top of them.

Opposite the bed is a waist-high dresser which stretches almost the entire expanse of wall. I expect to see a huge television there, like a hotel would have, but instead I'm surprised to see a mirror spanning the wall. It's a weird mix of five-star luxury and a ballet studio. I've never been in a room this extravagant. My parent's master bedroom and every hotel I've ever stayed at pale in comparison like shabby poor relations. Suddenly, that's how I feel - shabby. From the corner of my eye, I dart a look at Graeme and wonder if that's how she sees me - as Xander's friend from backwoods-America who can't stop gawping at every fancy thing in her home.

"And here's my stop!" Xander says cheerfully, pushing his own door open with total obliviousness to my discomfort at the luxury. His good cheer is not infectious.

His room is next to mine, which I'm grateful for. I don't know what I would have done if I had to sleep separated from him. Being alone in a foreign country with people I don't know very well makes me a little paranoid, I guess. They don't look like the type to sell me into white slavery or anything, but there's something about this place that gives me the chills.

"I need to pee," he announces. He stops only long enough to give me a sweet kiss on the cheek, nothing more than a brotherly peck, really, but it sends Graeme's perfectly-plucked eyebrows knotting together. "I'm really glad you're here," he whispers against my cheek before disappearing inside his room.

Graeme stands there for a moment, looking at me. "Well, thanks," I say finally, not sure whether it would be polite to escape into my room.

"Yeah," Graeme says, her face revealing nothing. "I'll let you freshen up." She eyes my outfit. "Are you changing?"

"Yeah, I feel a little grungy after wearing this all through the flight," I admit, pulling my coat off. "A shower would be great, too, if I have the time?"

"Sure. We eat at noon. Since there's so many people staying here, Mom decided to do away with breakfast and lunch altogether and just serve a buffet brunch at noon to make it easier on the kitchen staff. If you get hungry earlier you can always head down to the kitchen and get a snack or whatever," Graeme shrugs. "Also, it's really casual, so don't worry about dressing up. It's just the family."

"Thanks." I give her a sincere smile, hoping I don't look as relieved as I feel. I haven't packed a lot of fancy-schmancy schmoozin' clothes. My family typically has a low-key Christmas and we all stay in comfy jammies and sweatshirts if we don't have school or work. After seeing the van der Waals' estate, I was starting to doubt that they knew the meaning of the word casual.

Graeme still seems strangely reluctant to leave.

"Um, is everything okay?" I ask finally. It was disconcerting watching her watch me.

"It's just, why did you come here?" she blurts out, like this was the question that was on the tip of her tongue ever since she met me. "You guys aren't together, so it just doesn't make sense."

"He's my best friend," I repeat. It's basically my default answer whenever anyone questions my closeness with Xand. "We had plans to spend the winter in Florida, but that kind of fell through when your brother invited Xander to come here instead. Xander didn't want to come without me so Wolf extended the invitation to me, too." Even to my own ears that sounds defensive, so I quickly add, "I'm really grateful for your family's hospitality."

"Girls don't fly to another country just to spend time with their best friend," Graeme says, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. "Not unless there's a boy involved."

It's like she's looking for a deception that doesn't exist. She's posturing, clearly. Like a cat, peeing on her territory so everyone else knows it's hers and gives it wide berth. Well, sorry, but Xander is my best friend and he has been for years - if anyone has a right to be possessive, it's me. Why should I play second fiddle just because this girl wants to play Big Bad Girlfriend?

"Sorry, but what does this have to do with you?" I cock my head at her. "You're not his girlfriend so I fail to see why my relationship with my best friend is any of your concern." Guest in their house or not, I'm not going to stand here and let this girl grill me like some kind of criminal.

"I'm looking out for him," Graeme says, taking a step closer to me, eyes narrowed. "I care about Xander a lot and I don't want to see him get hurt." Her voice drops. "You know he's rich, right?"

"His father's rich," I correct. Not that it's relevant, but whatever.

She looks pleased with herself. "So you know," she presses, lips quirking upwards into a Cheshire grin.

This is quite probably the most bizarre conversation I've ever had, I think to myself as I stare her, wondering what kind of sick thrill this is giving her. "Yes," I reply slowly. "He's told me." I have the urge to flee into Xander's room, demand he get out of the bathroom, and take me straight back to the airport.

She's studying me like a bug under the microscope, dissecting me for any sign of weakness. "Look," I say in what I hope is a no-nonsense Sunday school teacher tone, "I'm really just here to spend Christmas with my best friend. And to see the sights, too. I don't know who you think I am, but I promise you that I would never do a thing to hurt Xander. I'm not going to keep repeating it, so take it to heart, Graeme." I take a deep breath as I conclude my speech. "Thanks for showing me my room. I'll see you at brunch."

As I close the door in her dumbfounded face, I suddenly realize I have no idea where the dining room is. Hopefully Xander has the presence of mind to fetch me before he goes down.

My heart is hammering and that stupid Graeme is the cause of it. If it's possible, she's even more aggravating than her brother. Wolf may be passive aggressive but Graeme wears her heart on her sleeve - and beneath that heart is probably a dagger she's itching to stab into my back. I groan; how is it possible that within an hour of arriving in the Netherlands I've managed to make both Wolfram and his sister hate me?

Author's Note: So what exactly is Graeme trying to insinuate, hmm? And what do you guys think of the way Charlotte stood up for herself? I want all your thoughts! :D