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day, I’m going to have Mrs. Fitzpatrick drive you across town to meet with a stylist. Max, I think you’re going to need a haircut. And Aidan, maybe we can introduce at least one additional color into your wardrobe?” She looked up from her phone to appraise Ollie, who grinned at her. “Ollie . . .”
    â€œYes?”
    Donna studied him, then smiled. “Actually, you’re perfect just the way you are.”
    Ollie’s easy smile indicated that this was not news to him.
    Lark rolled her eyes. “I’m going to be late,” she huffed. “Has anybody seen my lunch?”
    Aidan and Max both turned to Ollie, who held up a flattened brown bag. “Fitzy packed you a tuna mayo sandwich,” he said with a guilty look.
    â€œYou ate my tuna sandwich?” Lark wrinkled her nose. “For breakfast?”
    â€œI guess my stomach’s still on Greenwich Mean Time,” he said. “In London, it’s lunchtime.”
    â€œWonderful,” said Lark. “So what am I supposed to eat when twelve o’clock noon Pacific Standard Time rolls around?”
    Donna reached into her purse and pulled out a few dollar bills. “Buy lunch today, honey,” she said. “I’m sure it will be delicious.”
    Lark wasn’t sure of that at all. But she took the money her mother offered and headed off to the bus stop.

    â€œGrilled cheese, please,” said Lark, smiling halfheartedly across the chrome counter at the lunch lady. “Extra carrot sticks, no tater tots.”
    The lunch lady plopped the items onto a plastic plate, ignoring Lark’s request to forgo the pseudo-potato pieces. Then she slid the plate across the countertop. “You get a dessert with that,” the lady informed her. “Chocolate pudding or fruit cup.”
    â€œNeither, thanks,” said Lark.
    â€œTake the pudding,” said Mimi, bounding up beside her. “I’ll eat it!”
    The lunch lady slapped a cup of slimy-looking pudding onto Lark’s tray, then motioned for her to continue down the line to the cashier. Mimi was practically skipping along beside her as Lark paid, then they made her way to their usual table by the windows. They passed several signs for the upcoming International Fair.
    â€œWhat’s that fair thing all about?” Lark asked, sliding her tray across the table and taking a seat.
    â€œIt’s fun, actually,” Mimi explained. “Kind of a hands-on way of promoting diversity. Parents and grandparents come in and teach us about their different nationalities through cooking demonstrations and other kinds of cultural presentations. Mostly, it’s a lot of really yummy food!”
    Lark eyed her mushy grilled cheese. “Good to know.”
    â€œSo . . . ,” Mimi bubbled, “tell me everything! What are they like? Are they all stuck-up and snobby, or are they, like, normal and down-to-earth? I texted you a zillion times last night, but you never responded!”
    â€œI know,” said Lark, slipping into a chair. “I’m sorry. I was just so tired after the airport and moving the boys into their rooms and all, I went right to bed.”
    â€œâ€˜The boys,’” Mimi repeated, beaming. “You say that like you’ve known them forever! I still can’t believe a real live band is crashing at your house. It’s so cool.”
    â€œYou know what’s not cool?” Lark grumbled. “Fainting at the airport.”
    Mimi’s eyes widened. “Tell me everything!”
    So Lark gave her the CliffsNotes version of the sign, the song, and the swoon, cringing throughout the entire tale.
    â€œDon’t sweat it,” Mimi advised. “It was probably low blood sugar. Now, back to the boys. Are they as cute as they looked in their video?”
    â€œCuter,” Lark admitted, poking at her unwanted tater tots. “Especially Ollie.” She bit into her