(Michelle Lui's POV)
I woke up before my alarm.
Not because I was excited.
…Okay, fine. I was excited.
But also terrified.
And anxious.
And mildly nauseated.
Today was the day we were flying to Country A.
Fall weather. Pumpkin spice everything. International travel with the most dramatic group of rich kids ever assembled.
I sat up in bed and stared at the ceiling.
"Michelle," I told myself, "you are calm, sophisticated, elegant—"
Then I tripped when I got out of bed.
"—and coordinated," I added weakly.
My room was chaos.
Suitcases open. Sweaters everywhere. Boots on the carpet. Scarves hanging from random places like fashion ghosts.
I grabbed my carry-on bag.
Then changed my mind.
Then grabbed another bag.
Then changed my mind again.
Five minutes later, I sat in front of my vanity, hair half-curled, staring at my reflection.
"You are a classy woman," I whispered.
My reflection did not look convinced.
My mother peeked into my room with her morning tea.
