“What?” Alistair could not believe his ears. “You heard me, Alistair. We’re sending you to school in the US,” his mother replied after a long sip of tea. “Your father and I are fed up with your unruly behaviour. You will be ruling this country one day, and if you think I am going to let this slide, I’m afraid you are very mistaken,” she continued sipping her tea elegantly as if she hadn’t just ruined Alistair’s life. Alistair stood there, gaping at her while his mind attempted to process this information.  And of all the nice countries his parents could have sent him to, they chose the US? The first thing that came to Alistair’s mind when he thought of the US was fat, grubby old men devouring double cheeseburgers on their greasy old couch while watching rugby, or "football". He shuddered. “Mother, you have to understand, I cannot go to the US! I’ll do anything, just don’t send me to whatever stupid university you have in mind!” He pleaded. 

“Alistair William Beaumont, you listen and you listen well. You will go to the States, you will study there, and you will learn some respect for your mother. Am I clear?” She said, a steely edge to her voice. There was a dangerous gleam in her eyes that told Alistair that he better not argue. Sighing, he replied, “Yes, Mother.” She smiled. “Good. Now, go pack your bags. You’re leaving tomorrow,”

Alistair groaned internally. He couldn’t even ask the servants to pack his bags for him? Now he was entirely convinced that this was going to be the most awful thing he had ever had to endure.

Two hours of complaining and attempts to zip up his fat suitcase later, Alistair had finished packing. “I can’t believe Father hasn’t talked to me today. He normally takes my side on everything, but for some reason, he didn’t stop Mother from sending me on a one way trip to hell?” Alistair grumbled under his breath.

Someone rapped on his door. “Come in!” He yelled, not really in the mood for visitors. “I’m sorry, son, I wish I could have told you ahead of time, but you know how your mother gets.” Speak of the devil. “No, it’s fine. If you’d given me a heads up, I think I would’ve just taken a swan dive off of the roof.”Alistair muttered. “Alistair, you shouldn’t talk like that,” His father said sternly. “I know, I know,” Alistair sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have to go to some random, shabby college,” he muttered. “Well, actually, you’re going to Graham University. It’s quite prestigious, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy it there once you get used to it,” he said brightly. 

“I doubt it, but thanks for trying to cheer me up,” Alistair sighed. “Anytime, son,” Alistair’s father stood up. “But you should at least give Graham a chance. Maybe you’ll even find a girlfriend!” he laughed, exiting the room. I snorted. Yeah, right. As if mother didn't already have a "strategic partner" in mind. Alistair could have stayed up all night, contemplating his fate, but he decided to get some rest; his flight was at six in the morning, after all. He found it difficult to sleep that night, which was understandable considering he would be leaving the only home he had known for some strange, hostile country. After much tossing and turning, he drifted off to sleep.