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  Don’t Kiss Him Good-bye

  Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Byrd. All rights reserved.

  Cover photo of girl taken by Stephen Vosloo. Copyright © by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved.

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  Designed by Jennifer Ghionzoli

  Edited by Stephanie Voiland

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  Some Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version,® NIV.® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Byrd, Sandra.

  Don’t kiss him good-bye / Sandra Byrd.

  p. cm. — (London confidential ; #3)

  Summary: Seattle fifteen-year-old Savvy Smith feels like the only girl in England with no date for the traditional May Day Ball, but when she meets a boy with a reputation for trouble, she struggles to follow her own advice.

  ISBN 978-1-4143-2599-6 (sc)

  [1. Schools--Fiction. 2. Advice columns—Fiction. 3. Christian life--Fiction.

  4. Balls (Parties)—Fiction. 5. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. 6. Americans—England—London—Fiction. 7. London (England)—Fiction. 8. England—Fiction.]

  I. Title. II. Title: Do not kiss him good-bye.

  PZ7.B9898Dnn 2010

  [Fic]—dc22 2010025039

  For Samuel Byrd,

  The son every mother hopes for.

  A good boy who grew into a good man.

  Chapter 1

  It was just a kiss. I saw him give her a simple kiss, a quick kiss, an innocent peck . . . because they were saying good-bye and no one was watching.

  But someone was watching them—me. Not that I’d meant to. I didn’t know why the kiss troubled me, but it did. I hid it well, though. Or so I thought.

  “Hey, Savvy.” Penny waved as she walked toward me, while her boyfriend ducked into his classroom at our school, Wexburg Academy, just outside of London. I’d left Seattle for England less than a year ago, but I was already starting to feel both American and British. Some things were very different here—people ate foods like blood sausage and jam butties, and of course there were the school uniforms. Some things were the same here and in the USA, though. We all spoke English, for starters. Classes weren’t all that different, and no matter where you were, the high school world pretty much revolved around friends and social groups. And girls in both places had boyfriends. Some did, anyway. Like my new best friend, Penny.

  “Hey, Pen,” I said. “Good weekend with Oliver?” I nodded toward the door her boyfriend had just walked through.

  She blushed, realizing, I supposed, that I had seen the kiss. “I went over to his house and helped him with history, and he helped me memorize Spanish phrases.” She slung her book bag over her shoulder as we headed down the hall toward our first-period classes. “Oh, and we decided on our colors for the May Day Ball. His mum made the most fabbo biscuits, but I only ate a few. I don’t want my dress to be too snug.”

  “What?” I knew I sounded stupid, but I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

  “Biscuits, you know, cookies.”

  “No, no,” I said, “I mean, about the May Day Ball. What is it?” We stopped in front of her first-period class, which was a few doors down from my class, maths.

  “Oh, that’s right—you haven’t been here for a May Day Ball yet. Well, it’s a big event that’s held on May 1, kind of a British tradition to welcome spring and all. It’s a really big deal. Everyone dresses up and we rent limousines and have dinner together, and then there are events the day after. It’s brilliant—everyone makes sure they have a date months and months in advance because no one wants to miss out. . . .”

  She stopped talking then, realizing, I suppose, that I was going to miss out, as I had no date. Actually, I had never had a date of any kind, although I felt certain that my parents would have given the stamp of approval for me to go to a school-sponsored dance. If someone would have asked me, that is. Months and months ago, of course. The warning bell rang; we had one minute to be in our seats.

  “See you at lunch?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I’ve got to get to the library to print a paper that’s due today. I forgot to print it out at home this morning.”

  “I’ll meet you there afterward, then.” She threw me her friendliest smile, trying to make up for her faux pas about the May Day Ball.

  Chin up, I told myself. Mustn’t grumble. Be British. Or at least British-American.

  I ran to maths and slid into my seat just before the bell rang. I gave a little wave to Hazelle—my sometimes friend, sometimes enemy on the newspaper staff. She ignored me. I looked sideways at Brian, my gum-chewing buddy. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. While Mr. Thompson droned on about domains, reference functions, and formulas, I clandestinely checked out Brian from the corner of my eye.

  A few zits—but otherwise a pretty fair complexion. No one I’d jump off a bridge for, but a decent guy, a good conversationalist. He might look awkward in a suit, and I couldn’t say for sure if he could dance, but he was a friend who would be fun to spend a few hours with.

  At a May Day Ball, of course.

  Chapter 2

  I headed into the library at lunch. All the computers were taken, so I hung out and waited until I could get one and print out my paper.

  One guy seemed like he was ready to wrap things up, so I positioned myself kind of close to his computer. I must have kept glancing over his shoulder to see if he was almost finished because he finally turned and said softly, “What do you think of it?”

  I stammered, “Um . . . what do you mean?”

  “You’ve been standing so close for so long, I assumed you must be interested in what I’m writing. Or in me.” He flashed a smile—one that disarmed me and drew me in but also felt just the tiniest bit too charming.

  “I’m sorry. I just need to print out a paper that’s due after lunch.”

  He saved his document and logged off. Then he stood up and swept his arm with a flourish toward the empty chair. “By all means, you must turn in your paper on time.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or appreciating my dilemma, but I took the computer. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Rhys,” he said, “My name’s Rhys.” His blond hair was pulled back in a neat, short ponytail, but it didn’t look weak or feminine at all. Neither did the tiny diamond chip earring he wore in direct defiance of the dress code. His eyes were clear blue. Sled dog blue. Normally I didn’t go for blue-eyed blonds.
Normally.

  Chapter 3

  After school I headed over to the Wexburg Academy Times office. Officially, I was the school paper delivery girl. Unofficially, undisclosed, I was the author of the school’s newly popular advice column. Only Jack, the paper’s senior editor, was in on the secret. Oh, and Julia, Hazelle’s older sister, who was studying journalism at Oxford. Hazelle both idolized and resented her older sister. If Hazelle ever found out that I, the unstudied American, was the voice behind the Asking for Trouble column, our fragile friendship would be asking for trouble indeed.

  “Hullo, Savvy,” Jack said. “We’ll be running a few extra papers this week since circulation is up. It might take you a bit longer to have them all delivered by half seven on Thursday. You might want to consider starting a bit earlier?”

  “Righto.” I adopted the old-fashioned British phrase, intending it to be a bit tongue in cheek. Of course, since everyone else in the room was British, no one got the joke.

  Jack slid up next to me, close. At one time that would have sent a thrill through me. But now that I knew he was going out with my mentor, Melissa, I made sure the enthusiastic fans in my head stayed in their seats. Truthfully, my crush on him had already been pretty much crushed out.

  “We’re getting quite a few questions for Asking for Trouble,” he whispered in my direction. “I’m having a hard time sorting through them and keeping up with my own work. Is it all right if I simply forward all the questions directly to your e-mail?”

  “Of course,” I said, keeping my voice and excitement low so as not to draw attention. Inside, I was rejoicing. Each week Jack seemed to recognize my worth more. Soon enough I’d be writing articles with my own name on them—a byline! I wouldn’t be limited to the secret column anymore. I just knew it.

  “I e-mailed the new column to you last night,” I said. Now that I knew about the May Day Ball and what a big deal it was, I understood the motivation behind the writer’s question a little better. In light of my own situation, I was glad I’d given her reassurance.

  I hoped.

  “I got it,” he said. “Good work!” Then he headed back into his own office and closed the door before getting on the phone.

  I walked over to Melissa. “You okay?” I asked. Her face looked a little ashy, and her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail—not her normal, put-together style.

  “Feeling a bit dodgy,” she admitted. “I woke up not feeling well, and then when I showed up to finish up my article today, I had to help Natalie, too.”

  “Natalie?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Melissa said. “She used to live here; worked on the newspaper staff last year. When she moved to the North last summer, it opened up a spot on the newspaper staff.”

  Ah, yes. The one I took, even though I wasn’t officially writing yet.

  “She just moved back,” Melissa said. She’d never gossip, but I could tell by her tone and the look in her eyes that she would have preferred if Natalie had remained in the North. “She’s pushed Jack for an assignment, and I suppose her seniority means she deserves one. She’ll be working on the May Day Ball story.”

  Before that minute it hadn’t crossed my mind to ask for the assignment. Now chances were I wouldn’t be going . . . or writing about it. I sighed. Loudly, I guess, because Melissa looked up.

  “Not going to the ball?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “You?”

  She nodded.

  “Jack?”

  She nodded again and smiled, her face brightening for the first time that day. “I’m going to make sure you get to participate in the May Day Ball reporting,” she said, a firm look settling like hardening concrete on her face. “If you want it, that is.”

  I quickly considered my options. I’d get to work on the article, take another step forward on the paper, and have an excuse to go to the ball without feeling like an outcast for not having a date. All positives. I’d also have to work with an unknown, potentially nasty reporter that even Melissa didn’t like. One negative.

  “Well, Savvy?” Melissa pressed.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “Good! And even if you do get a date, you can still gather information beforehand and report and take some snaps on site.” But the look on her face betrayed her true beliefs. She didn’t think I’d get a date to the ball. It was too late.

  That just left me and the unmet Natalie. Both solo.

  Chapter 4

  The next day I got a text midway through third period. It was from Melissa.

  Home sick today. I’ve sent you an e-mail with my article in it. I need you to hand-deliver it to Jack because I’ve texted him and he’s not answering. Okay?

  I texted her back.

  Okay, will do.

  Brilliant. Back to bed for me, then.

  After third period I headed to the library. All the computers were taken again. Right away I saw Rhys; it would be hard to miss the neat ponytail now that I knew whom it belonged to. I purposely ducked into the library shelves for a few minutes to wait him out and then stood kind of close to another computer, this one occupied by a girl who looked like she was finishing up.

  Rhys turned and grinned at me. “Back again, eh?”

  I smiled in spite of myself. “Have to print out an article for a friend on the newspaper staff.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “A journalist. I like journalists. And I just knew you were one of those bright girls. It’s not every girl who can be both a brainbox and pretty.”

  It was a totally playerish thing to say. But he called me a journalist. And he said it so sweetly, and I basked in the compliment because, you know, they were as few as my officially published word count in the WA Times. In other words, nonexistent. I was “bright” enough not to say anything in response, and he turned back to his work. The girl whose computer I’d been waiting for got up, and I took her seat. I checked to make sure no one was looking over my shoulder and logged into my e-mail. I got Melissa’s article and sent it to the printer. By the time I logged off and turned around, Rhys was right behind me.

  “I don’t think I got your name,” he said softly.

  “Savannah.” I didn’t know why I gave him my full name instead of saying, “Savvy.” I guess I wanted to impress him, to come across as smart as he believed me to be. I caught his eye, and—sorry for the cliché, but it’s true—my heart did skip a beat.

  “An American, I’d guess, by the accent,” he said.

  I stood and gathered my gear into the new bag Penny had scored for me at the recent Peter Chen fashion show.

  “I’m a foreigner too, sort of,” he said.

  “You are?” I turned back toward him.

  He nodded, and for the first time I noticed that the look on his face was kind of vulnerable. “I’m Welsh,” he said. “Moved here last year.”

  Instantly I felt a kind of bond with him. I let myself relax a little. He must have noticed because he smiled more warmly. “With all the papers you’re printing out, it seems like you’re pretty good at that kind of work.”

  I shrugged a little, hoping to seem appropriately modest. “I guess so.”

  “Would you be willing to look over one of my papers before I turn it in? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t know a lot of people here yet—certainly no other journalists. I’m trying to catch up on my work. Wexburg Academy is a lot further ahead than my old school was.”

  I thought for a minute. I mean, what would it cost me, really? a lunch period or something, right? It’s not like it was a long-term commitment. And I did like to help people.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Thank you!” Rhys smiled at me again. “Thursday in the library during lunch?”

  I nodded, and as I did, one of his friends came and chipped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go, mate,” he said impatiently. I noticed that all female eyes locked on Rhys as he left the room. Then they looked at me—I wasn’t sure if it was appraisingly or a little jealously. It wasn’t a bad feeling to
be the envy of the other girls in the room.

  I got the paper from the printer and noticed Penny standing at the door of the library. She frowned. “Talking to Rhys, I see?”

  “He asked for help with his paper.”

  She remained silent for a minute while we headed toward fourth period. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

  “We just met yesterday,” I said. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no. He’s just . . . not like you, Savvy.”

  I laughed and gave her a quick hug. “I’m just helping a new kid with his paper. Nothing more.”

  She relaxed a bit at that. “All right, then.”

  “Thanks, Mum.” I teased her to a grin before we parted. “See you sixth period.”

  Chapter 5

  That afternoon I strolled through the showers that promised May flowers, all the while twirling my unopened brolly like a majorette’s baton. I was from Seattle. And now I was a Londoner. A little rain wasn’t going to melt me. I loved the clean feeling of the drops sliding down my face and into the corner of my mouth, pelting my blonde hair, and slipping off my starched plaid uniform skirt. I turned down Cinnamon Street, past the neat brick houses and window boxes—some newly planted. I left the umbrella propped against our door. A brass plaque announced that I was home: Kew Cottage. I kicked off my shoes, and they went twirling and clattering onto the small porch as I headed inside.

  “Pip-pip, cheerio, and all that,” I hollered. I heard the back door slam, the one that led out to the small “garden,” as the Brits call their patch of patio and backyard. I strolled into the kitchen and saw my sister, Louanne, drying off her arms.

  “What were you doing outside?” I asked. Her dog, Giggle (aka Growl), was on the back of the sofa sitting sphinxlike, his paws in front and head up, so I knew she hadn’t been taking him out.