A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter thirteen

t h i r t e e n

*

“Brits, raise your hands!” Sam calls from the front of the van. We’ve been on the road for almost an hour now, after a lazy breakfast alongside the river, and I’m thankful that despite how I acted last night – and this morning - Arjun has said nothing, nor has he acted any differently.

He, Carrie, Adedayo and I raise our hands. I’m waiting for Brannan to raise his too, but then I remember he’s Irish – I’m guessing Republic rather than Northern, though I have no idea and I don’t know the difference between the accents well enough to distinguish.

“Now,” Sam says, “where is London Bridge?”

Either he’s clueless and curious, or it’s a trick question, so I say nothing. So does everyone else, and I let out an awkward laugh. Eventually, Carrie bites with a dry laugh and says, “Over the Thames?”

Sam makes a loud and convincing buzzer sound. Young-mi, who’s in the front seat today, jumps. He chuckles. “Today, we’re going to go see the original London Bridge.”

Arjun and I look at each other, both confused, neither of us wanting to say anything that’ll make us look like idiots. Carrie furrows her brow as she twists her red hair into a loose plait.

“Are you having a senior moment?” she jokes, even though she’s older than Sam.

“Not this time! Today, my friends and comrades, we’re heading to Lake Havasu City.”

He says it like he’s expecting a response, some kind of recognition, but I’ve never even heard the name before, and I’m not sure how to react. After long enough, Sam tuts and shakes his head and meets my eye in the rear view mirror.

“You folks ought to be ashamed of yourselves. The London Bridge that you know and love”—presumptuous, I think, as I’ve only been to London a couple of times and never even seen the London Bridge, let alone walked across it—“is an imposter.”

Arjun laughs, and I am intoxicated all over again. God, I could listen to that laugh all day.

“I sense your scepticism,” Sam continues, “but you are about to learn yourselves an important bit of crossover history that forever binds your capital city to this corner of Arizona. In 1967, after over a hundred and thirty years as a River Thames crossing, London Bridge was taken down brick by British brick, and it was rebuilt right here in the Grand Canyon State.”

“Why?” I can’t help asking, the word bursting out. “That makes no sense.”

“London traffic, man. The bridge couldn’t take it. It was sinking, so it went up for auction and the guy who founded this town spent nearly ten million bucks bidding for it and moving it over here.” He taps his fingers on the wheel and adds, “Not sure it was worth it, but it makes Lake Havasu a tourist spot. One that we’ll arrive at in about ... seven minutes.”

Six minutes later, the van comes to a stop several metres from an unimpressive-looking bridge across a channel. It feels like a small, dreary town even with the beautiful weather, and I wonder if that’s the bridge’s doing, infusing a hot Arizona town with a drab English atmosphere.

The bridge stretches across the water in five arches, and it’s nothing special to look at. I mean, it’s a stone bridge that came from England. We have a lot of stone bridges, and a lot that are far more impressive than this one.

But I snap a photo anyway and add it to my story, tagging the location, and I take a photo of Arjun when he hands me his phone and poses with a goofy grin. When I hand it back, our fingers brush and it sends a tingle shooting down my spine. I’d rather carry on with the trip without being attracted to him, but it would seem my hormones have a different idea.