Chapter Text
Ian stared down at the piece of paper in his hands in a state of near incomprehension. His siblings were staring expectantly. They were waiting for him to tell them one way or the other what the news was.
When Ian heard about the student exchange programme to America, he jumped at the idea. Getting away from Frank was a bonus, whatever way you looked at it. And it would be nice to see a bit more of the world. The Gallagher idea of a family holiday was a trip to Blackpool, and Frank had been arrested before they’d had the chance to spend a full day there, ruining the holiday for everyone, including a fair few of the other tourists.
So he had pulled his finger out of his arse and focused on his schoolwork for a while. The promise of an out for his shitty life was enough to make a swot out of even Ian Gallagher. He had nothing on Lip, of course, but then no one did. No one in Moss Side came close. Sure, there were plenty of drug dealers with street smarts, able to run a successful business and avoid the police for the most part. But that was nothing on Lip’s academic ability and sheer all-around genius. If anyone was going to get out of this shithole, it was him.
Ian, on the other hand, was a Gallagher through and through. Mediocre in every aspect except for the devious and cunning streak that ran through them all. They had all laughed when he brought up the idea of a student exchange, all except Fiona, who looked torn between pride and pain. Frank had called him an idiot but hoped he would get in, “One less mouth to feed, then. All you fuckers leach off of my universal credit anyway.” .
“So?” Fiona asked expectantly, twisting her hands together in worry.
Ian looked up, pulled from his musing. He couldn’t hold back the smile as he held up the letter like a footballer holding up the world cup. All that was missing was the champagne.
“I fucking got in!” He cried out.
Before he knew it, Ian was under a pile of siblings. Congratulations were raining down on him faster than he could keep up with them.
“Oh, Ian,” he heard Fiona sigh. He always tuned in to her voice, so he heard it even above the din. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” Then in a louder voice. “I got a bottle of vodka to celebrate! I knew you’d do it.”
Ian tussled his way to freedom, grinning up at his big sister, who was looking down at the pile of them in amusement.
“What if I hadn’t gotten it?” He asked.
She shrugged. “Drinks to commiserate.”
Ian laughed, the whole thing was surreal.
“I want vodka!” Carl called out.
“No, the vodka is for Ian, me, Lip and dad if he wakes up,” she explained patiently.
Carl and Debbie groaned, the pile having disintegrated by then. They wore twin looks of indignation, and Ian had to bite his hand to hold back his giggles.
“No, no,” Fiona continued, “there hooch for you two. Classic lemon - your favourite, Carl.”
He frowned but seemed to accept it for what it was.
“Oh, so Ian’s going to have a proper send-off, yeah?” Lip asked, elbowing Ian jokingly. “Sipping on Smirnoff,”
“-Tesco’s own brand vodka,” Fiona cut in, snorting.
“Like a rockstar?” He continued, unfazed.
“Hardly, dickhead,” Ian groaned. “Can we just have a quiet few drinks as a family? Nothing too mental.”
“Have you forgotten what your last name is, mate?” Lip asked, looking at him questioningly.
“No,” Ian grumbled.
“You’ve been studying for months and months, you’re no fun anymore,” Debbie whined, and that was enough to crack him. Ian had a soft spot for his little sister.
“Jesus fucking Christ, fine!” Ian sighed, locking eyes with a grinning Fiona.
“I also might have invited a few people over, if that’s alright,” she said gingerly.
A few people turned out to be well over fifty people, everyone having invited their friends to come along too. Most people brought drinks with them, and the party got very merry indeed, having migrated to the garden. Ian was sure that the only reason the police weren’t called was because any neighbour who would have a mind to do such a thing was also at the party.
Ian felt like he must be the drunkest out of everyone since anyone who saw him insisted on having a shot with him or drinking to his success. Fiona had long since squirrelled herself away into a corner with her latest flame to chat, and Lip had gone off with his on-again, off-again fuck buddy, Karen. This left Ian to fend for himself.
He mindlessly flitted around the party for a moment, not particularly wanting to talk to anyone but knowing that his absence would be quickly noted. Ian grimaced to himself at the thought, he was still under Fiona’s watchful gaze after all. He grabbed a Stella and wandered away from the throng of people that had gathered outside of his house, managing to find a quieter spot that was still technically ‘in the party’ enough for him to avoid censure.
“What’s got you so sad? This is meant to be a party,” a voice broke Ian from his thoughts.
He looked up to see Ben Price grinning down at him. He and Ben had never been close, but they spoke on occasion - Ben’s older sister had been close with Fiona when they were in school. Ben was wearing what was clearly a new tracksuit, all matching, and his trainers were spotless. His light brown hair was made all the lighter by how short he had cut his hair, and his right eyebrow sported a slit now.
“Did you get into dealing?” Ian asked, gesturing to his clothes.
Ben put a finger to his lips and winked. “Got to work hard to be this fashionable, mate. Rollie?”
He held out a cigarette which was neatly rolled to Ian, who took it eagerly. It took a few drags before he felt any calmer. The last light of the day was beginning to illuminate the clouds in furious pinks and yellows. Ian looked out over the estate, his heart oddly heavy. In a month, he would be somewhere in America, living a completely different life. It was only for a year, but there would be no way that his family could afford to fly him back to visit at any point. He’d never been away from them for more than a day - not even being able to afford the school trip to France in year six.
“Seriously, you look upset. Thought you’d be happy,” Ben said, taking a seat next to him on the crumbling wall of one of Ian’s neighbour’s houses. “It’s a chance to get out of this shithole.”
He sighed, shrugging. “Yeah, it is. Just…I don’t know,” he turned to look at Ben, an odd desire to share his feelings overtaking any sense he might have had. “It’s a big fucking step. And I don’t know if I can handle it. I mean, being by myself in a foreign country? Having to adjust to their school shit? It’s tough enough here, for fuck’s sake.”
“You’re freaking yourself out, mate. Just don’t deep it like that, yeah? You go, and you see how it is. Worst case, you get sent back here. Nothing lost,” he said encouragingly.
“Well, the worst-case scenario is that I get arrested and sent to an American prison and end up doing two to ten while waiting for the British government to get me shipped back here,” Ian replied, unable to keep a straight face.
“Just don’t do anything I would do, and you’ll be fine. You should go back over there,” he gestured to the crowd of ever increasingly drunk Moss Side residents - someone had found some fireworks, illegal most likely, and was setting them off. If any of them remembered why they were having this party, it didn’t show as Ian had been roundly forgotten, but he preferred it that way.
“Nah,” he replied, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the road. “Can’t be arsed.”
Ben snorted. “You’re a fucking wallflower, you know that?”
“What should I be doing, then?” Ian asked, feeling an odd twist in his stomach - he was pushing things a bit too far, and he knew it.
Ian had caught Ben sucking off some bloke down an alley a year ago, and while neither of them brought it up, it must’ve been on Ben’s mind then as he reached out and awkwardly placed his hand on top of Ian’s.
“Fancy a proper send-off? Don’t think anyone will notice us going,” he said, not making eye contact.
The redhead stared for a moment in blank amazement. Ben had some serious balls for even suggesting it, as Ian hadn’t made his sexuality known in any way at all. There was only one person in the world who knew, Lip. And that was only because he had caught Ian wanking to gay porn one day a few months back.
“Are you gonna make it worth my while?” Ian asked, putting on his most confident persona.
Ben laughed, pulling Ian by the hand. “I have my ways. You gonna make it worth mine?”
He’d never done anything with a boy in his life, had only had quick kisses with girls, but he knew enough to know that he definitely wanted to see what Ben had up his sleeve. After all, he didn’t want to go to America as a virgin.
“You’ll just have to find out, I suppose,” he replied, all false swagger.
It was a mediocre experience, really. Ben seemed to know what he was doing, at least, and it was nice to have a warm, tight body wrapped around his cock. But the whole experience felt empty, devoid of anything approaching real desire. Maybe his standards were too high.
Still, Ian made his way back to his room, floating on air. The knowledge that he’d finally got his end way propelled him into bed with a smile on his face that got him a suspicious look from Carl, who was sipping on one last Kopparberg before bed. Lip would have given him a matching look if he hadn’t been getting his end away with Karen at her house.
The weeks leading up to his exchange were filled with forms, forms and more forms. He and Fiona had to sit and fill out an application for an F-1 visa, whatever the fuck that was. Ian was given a choice of where he would like to go.
“Washington D.C, Los Angeles, New York, Chicago,” Debbie listed off from the piece of paper she’d plucked from the paper-strewn kitchen table.
Ian grimaced. “Anywhere that isn’t just another concrete jungle?”
“Cheyenne,” Debbie offered uncertainly, “I haven’t heard of it, anyway.”
“It’s the capital of Wyoming!” Lip called out, not taking his eyes from the match of Halo he was playing. Xbox had been procured from where the Gallaghers got all of their fancier things - fell off of the back of a lorry.
“I want to go there,” Ian said with conviction.
“But you hadn’t even fucking heard of it until a minute ago. Fucking hell,” Lip grumbled.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t seem like the sort of place that is just Manny but in America. I’ve had enough of Moss Side,” he retorted.
“They wouldn’t send you somewhere dangerous,” Fiona said comfortingly.
“Well, I’ve made my choice,” Ian said, crossing his arms in front of him.
“Are you sure?” She asked.
“Dead sure,” he confirmed. “Besides, every fucker will want to go to New York or LA or whatever. I probably wouldn’t get a place there if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”
“You’re no fun, Ian,” Debbie scowled. “You could’ve gotten us some cool shit while you were there.”
“Don’t swear. Also, with what fucking money?” He chided.
“I didn’t say you should buy it,” she said, flashing an artful-dodger-esque grin.
“Shut it, both of you,” Fiona snapped, grabbing another form and staring at it intently. “We have lots to get done.”
But they did get it done in the end, though Ian wasn’t sure how. They got him a passport with money that Lip had gotten by selling weed. The paperwork was done and approved, and his selection was made. When it came to his placement, however, Ian was in for a big disappointment.
“Chicago? What the fuck?” Ian complained.
Lip snorted, reaching over to knock him upside the head. “Don’t be ungrateful.”
“Exactly,” Fiona added.
Ian looked between the two of them in shock. “You two are agreeing on this? I wanted to go to Cheyenne!”
“Well, you aren’t,” Ian’s brother retorted. “Chicago seems cool anyway. I’ll go if you won’t.”
“Fuck off,” Ian groused. “It doesn’t work like that anyway.”
Regardless of what he wanted, Ian was assigned a host family in Chicago, and everything was set up. They lived in a nice neighbourhood, apparently. A mother, father and son. They had sent a letter for Ian to read. It amounted to them saying how excited they were to have a new addition to the family and enthusing about all of the things he would be able to do in America.
“They’re cringe,” Carl pointed out, reading over Ian’s shoulder.
That was one thing Ian wouldn’t miss, constantly having someone hovering around him - privacy was an unheard-of concept. Being one of six siblings would do that. Although Liam was just a baby, so he wasn’t a threat to his privacy, just his peace and quiet.
Ian shrugged. “Well, they said I’ll be getting my own bedroom, so they’re pretty fucking great in my book.”
“Oh yeah,” Carl said, realisation dawning. “Can I get your bed while you’re gone? It’ll be so much better here with you gone. You snore.”
He huffed, glowering at his younger brother. “God, you really know how to make a bloke feel missed, don’t you? Bloody hell, I bet I won’t even have landed in America before you have all my stuff taken down.”
“Oh, come on. It’s bad enough sharing with you and Lip, and Liam is gonna go in there too if Debbie has her way. I want some fucking room,” he whined.
“Not long now,” Ian said, feeling nervousness crawl up into his chest.
The time went by far too quickly for his liking. Soon he and Fiona were furiously packing for his trip. Not that there was much that he could take, it wasn’t like he had much stuff. A bunch of hand-me-downs from Lip, the few things he’d managed to buy for himself like his treasured second-hand army jacket that he wore almost constantly.
The entire Gallagher family had made the trip to Manchester airport to see him off. Fiona had commandeered one of the staff, making them promise to make sure that Ian made it safely to his gate. They ended up arriving perilously close to the flight time, corralling all of the Gallagher siblings was like herding cats - worse than that.
“You take care of yourself, yeah?” Fiona said with conviction, pulling Ian into a crushing hug.
“Will do,” he replied, blinking back the tears - it was all getting far too real.
Ian made sure to hug all of his siblings goodbye. Even Carl, who tried to wriggle out of his grasp. As he walked over to security, Ian found himself wanting to turn back, to run back to his family. But that wasn’t happening. Ian waited until he had scanned his ticket and passed through the gate before looking back. Fiona had an arm around Lip, who was looking on stoically. Debbie was crying a little but waving him off. Carl looked disconcerted but was near-expressionless. Liam was asleep, which was a small mercy.
Security wasn’t as bad as Ian had thought, there were signs in multiple languages telling him what to do, and he could watch the others ahead of him in line for pointers too. Before he knew it, he was wandering down obnoxiously long hallways in the search for his gate, checking the display screens as he went in case the gate number changed for some inexplicable reason.
Luck was on his side, and he found his gate with no issues. Fiona had given him some money to buy water and whatever else he wanted from the shops by the gates. Hard-earned money that she had gotten working at a seedy club getting felt up by gross men. Ian held the crumpled ten-pound note in his hand and felt tears well up in his eyes. He really was lucky to have a family that cared about him the way that they did.
Ian grabbed a bottle of water, some chewing gum, and a Dairy Milk chocolate bar, not knowing if they even had those in America, so he wanted to have it one last time before he went over there. Not that he had them often normally. Multipacks of Lidl or Aldi's own brand chocolate bars, tiny little things that Fiona had to hide and dole out occasionally to stop one or other of them eating them all, that was what he was used to. Still, he occasionally got a bit of his own money, and he had a sweet tooth - sue him.
The family he would be staying with were well off. Rich, even. Ian wondered what sort of things they would have in their massive American-sized fridges. Fancy hummus shit. Avocadoes, that sort of thing, Ian guessed. They’d be giving him his food and shit, so that was something since he couldn’t get a job while he was out there - at least not a legal one. The way he understood it, he could take money for one-off chores or helping people out, like babysitting or mowing the lawn, but couldn’t get a part or full-time job. It sucked.
He wanted what that family had for himself one day, or at least the option to get it if he wanted to. That was why he was so determined to get into the army. Ever since he was a kid, that had been all that Ian had ever wanted. His ultimate goal was the SAS, Special Air Service . It was a pipe dream, but he wanted it. Ian wanted to do well in this exchange year, graduate and go back and enlist. Once he’d passed his basic training, he would go and try and get into the SAS - try and succeed if he could help it. Ian had everything planned out.
Soon it was time to board the flight. Ian fidgeted nervously as he made his way through the queue to where the flight attendant was checking everyone's tickets. It was ridiculous, but Ian was filled with the fear that the woman was going to take one look at him and simply not allow him on the flight. There didn’t seem to be a dress code or anything, but maybe she would just sense that he was a chav from the wrong estate and send him packing. Ian fiddled with his sleeves nervously - only two people in front of him now.
“Ticket, please, sir,” the flight attendant said.
Ian handed it to her quickly, having gotten the ticket out five whole minutes beforehand. He had studied the way that the other passengers had done it, not wanting to seem even slightly out of place. It was what he had been taught all of his life. Look like you know what you’re doing, where you are, where you’re going - if you don't…well, then you’re a target. That was Moss Side for you. It was difficult to leave that mentality behind, even when Ian knew that it wasn’t needed.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the ticket back and making his way along behind the others, his heart thumping.
He only had a duffle bag with him, it was massive but ragged. Maybe he’d replace it while he was in America. Ian had already decided that he was going to make money however he could while out there - legal or otherwise. There was no fucking way that he was going to ask Fiona for a penny.
Ian nearly shat himself while climbing up the stairs to the plane. They felt like the least stable things on the planet, and the person walking in front of him was so close that he felt like if they tipped back even slightly, it would start off a domino effect, and everyone would end up at the bottom of the stairs. Once he was on the plane, he felt a lot more stable and like he was on solid ground, which was ironic.
Once he was in his seat, a window seat, Ian found himself staring out of the window with a mounting fear beginning to overtake him. He didn’t know exactly what it was that he was afraid of. Flying for the first time, the plane crashing, TSA on the other side, his host family or being in a whole other fucking country . The options seemed to be ever-expanding.
He pulled out his phone, quickly dialling Fiona. Would she be on the tram back already?
“Hiya, our kid. What’s up?” She greeted, and Ian could hear the bustle of the city in the background - the characteristic hoot of the trams that ran through Manchester like lifeblood. Ian could hear that Carl and Debbie were fighting too. “Shut up, you two! I’m talking to Ian.”
“I’m on the plane,” he said. I want to go home. Am I doing the right thing? I feel like I’ll die if I leave. Ian didn’t say.
“Didn’t get rumbled by security? Good for you,” Fiona replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t worry. Seriously. You’ll be ace.”
“What if it all goes wrong?” He asked, unheeding of the man sitting next to him.
“If what goes wrong?” She asked. “Carl, seriously, give over.”
Ian shrugged before realising there was no point. “I don’t know. Something. Everything.”
“What if everything goes right?” She said teasingly. “Chin up.”
Ian sighed. “Yeah, I know, but…”
“I get it, I do. This shit is scary. Fuck knows I’ve never even left England myself, don’t think any of us Gallaghers have left Europe. But,” she paused, and Ian could hear her swallowing, “if any of us is going to do better, it is you, Ian. I promise you I believe that you can do this. If I didn’t, I would have shut this ‘exchange student’ shit down.”
He laughed, feeling a chunk of his nerves slipping away. “Should’ve thought of that.”
Fiona was just starting to reply when the flight attendants began their announcements.
“Shit, I’ve got to go!” Ian said apologetically.
“Take photos for us, yeah? I wanna see what it’s like up there in the sky,” she replied seriously.
“Of course, I will,” he said, love for his sister welling up so strongly it hurt. “Say bye to the gremlins for me, yeah?”
“Chat soon, Ian,” Fiona said with conviction before hanging up.
Ian could’ve sworn that he heard her sniffing like she was keeping tears at bay. Those thoughts were soon shoved aside in favour of listening to the announcement. Lip had told him that people didn’t tend to survive plane crashes regardless of what they did, so it didn’t matter, but Ian wasn’t taking any chances. If a five-minute lecture was the difference between life and death, then, by all means, he was all ears.
It took ages for the plane to start moving, but once it did, it didn’t take long at all to build up speed. It was like when Lip and his friends would gun it on the ring road surrounding Manchester, uncaring of being done by the coppers. Ian used to close his eyes in fear when the speedometer crept over 100mph, but now he loved it. The lurch in his stomach, feeling his body come alive as the car leapt under him - like some sort of animal finally coming into its own.
Briefly, Ian considered the Air Force instead of the SAS. If it meant that he got to fly planes, then surely it was worth it. If cars were like an animal coming to life, then a plane was like a mythical creature. A dragon, maybe. Roaring and plucking itself from the ground and into the sky. It seemed like that to Ian. That one moment, the plane was attached to the ground, speeding along the runway, and then in the next moment, it had detached itself - lurching upwards. His stomach did somersaults, but Ian found himself staring out of the window in fascination, dutifully taking photos for Fiona.
“First time flying?” The man next to him asked convivially.
Ian nodded. “Yeah.”
“Long trip for a first flight,” he said.
“Go big or go home, I guess,” he replied, shrugging.
Thankfully, the man didn’t try to talk to him anymore after that. Ian had been told by one of the ladies on his road, Mrs Tovey, that some people get pain in their ears when they fly, and the best thing to do for it is to chew gum. She had been a flight attendant or stewardess or whatever years ago, so she would know better than anyone else he knew. He took out a stick of gum and started to chew it steadily, already starting to feel the pain build. Ian grimaced, it was like his eardrums were going to pop at any moment. Mrs Tovey had also told him to pop his ears by holding his breath which he did.
Eventually, the combination of gum chewing, breath holding, and jaw clenching got the pain in his ears down to a more manageable level. Still, Ian was far from comfortable for the entire flight. 7 hours and 45 mins of boredom. He had his phone, but after taking a few dozen photos, he switched it off, not wanting to drain the battery. He and Lip had stolen a plug adapter a few days ago, so he could charge it when he got to the airport if need be. Still, it wasn’t like there was much to do on his phone in any case.
Ian settled back and tried to get some sleep. He had stayed up late into the night with his family. Frank had made an appearance, telling about the time he had gone to New York - or had it been a new leisure centre in York? - and Ian had had to bite his knuckles to stop himself from laughing directly into his father’s face. He knew that would have gone down like a sack of bricks, and he certainly didn’t need to be meeting his host family for the first time with a black eye.
When the plane landed, Ian found himself growing more and more nervous. He switched his phone on and watched it connect to a cell tower in Chicago, watched the time on the clock change. Chicago was 6 hours behind the UK, so it was still only midday. Ian felt exhausted in any case, but he pushed that feeling resolutely aside. He downed the rest of his water and left it in his seat, only feeling slightly bad for littering.
The Chicago air was bitter and biting, and Ian could see people hastily opening their suitcases to find scarves and gloves and the like. Ian, having none of those things, shoved his hands in his pockets and rounded his shoulders against the cold. He was a Moss Side lad, it would take more than a little breeze to get to him. Still, he was eager to get into the shuttle that would take them from the runway into the airport proper.
It was a bit of a palava getting through American security, but Ian played up his childish cluelessness and generally got a lot of sympathy. Once through security, Ian found himself in the bustle of the main airport. The atmosphere in the winding security line had been subdued, but this was nothing like that.
“Fuck me,” Ian muttered under his breath. “I’ve only gone and fucking gone to America.”
Ian pulled out his phone, switched it on yet again after having to switch it off for the security checks, and connected to the shitty airport WiFi. It said he would have to pay after more than half an hour, but hopefully, he wouldn’t be here in half an hour. Self-consciously, Ian took a selfie of him with the airport behind him. He put his thumb up in a sign of ‘I made it. I’m ok’ then he quickly sent it, along with the other photos that he had taken to the family group chat.
Debbie downer: you didn’t die congrats
Fiona Shrek: so proud of u, photos look ace
Lip(stick): met the rich fuckers taking you in yet?
Fiona Shrek: Phillip!
Fiona Shrek: well? Have u?
Sergeant Ian: nah not yet, can’t see anything but I’m early so yeah
Debbie downer: maybe they’ve forgotten you
Sergeant Ian: fuck off
Lip(stick): yeah you never know mate youll have to make a new life in America itll be the fucking American dream
Alan Carl: you could end up like those homeless people on worldstar
Alan Carl: homeless ginger gets his teeth kicked in
Sergeant Ian: Hate all you bastards, America isn’t far enough away. They should have a fucking exchange trip to Mars.
Fiona Shrek: I don’t know where you lot got your filthy language from the lot of u
Everyone reacted to her message with suspicious side eyes. They had all grown up hearing her turning the air blue every single day. Fiona had reason to, Ian mused, her life has been wall-to-wall shit ever since Monica left. Still, they were lucky to have her, lucky that she worked her arse off for them. And when he was an officer in the army making some serious P, Ian would repay the favour.
Ian made his way out into the main airport. There were throngs of people, all in various stages of reuniting and departing. Ecstatic reunions and subdued goodbyes. He had never heard so many American accents at once. Of course, he heard tourists around Manchester city centre, but nothing like this. But then, it was something that he would have to get used to.
It was cliché, but Ian spotted a sign with his name on it held by a man in a carefully tailored suit. He looked fancy. Like one of those business types that worked in the skyscrapers in Salford and didn’t get the tram but got Ubers instead. Was that his new host? Ian made his way towards the man slowly, his duffel bag making him newly self-conscious.
“Hello, I’m Ian,” he said nervously. He had wondered whether to try and shake his hand, but the man kept holding the sign which answered that question.
“Good, good,” the man said, already turning to walk away. “If you’ll follow me. The car is just outside.”
“Oh, great,” Ian replied, following behind dutifully. “Is, um, is your wife with you?” He asked nervously.
The man laughed. “I'm the chauffeur. Mr and Mrs Charles are at their home.”
Ian was slightly nonplussed at that. He had expected them to be there, he certainly hadn’t expected them to have a fucking chauffeur. Still, it gave him more time to prepare himself for meeting the family - figure out what he was going to say. They knew enough about him to know that he wasn’t loaded like they were, but he knew without a doubt that he couldn’t truly be himself around any of them.
The car ride passed by in relative silence. The driver seemed happy enough to leave Ian to himself, which he was grateful for as his journey was catching up to him all at once. Despite his tiredness, however, he found himself unable to close his eyes. He was really in America. Ian had never really thought that he would ever be able to go, it just wasn’t in the cards for people like him. Everything was so different! He knew that it was going to take a lot more getting used to than he had originally planned for.
Ian stared out at the road, watching all of the massive cars going by. He wasn’t sure why Americans liked having such big cars, but he decided that it was pretty cool. Way more interesting than the Ford Fiestas and Fiat 500s that littered the streets in his neighbourhood. Lip would love it here, Ian decided as he whipped out his phone and took a few quick photos to show them all later.
“Alright. We’re here, Mr Gallagher,” the man said as they pulled up outside a large house.
Ian would never get used to being called Mr Gallagher, he decided, as he got out of the car. The chauffeur carried his raggedy duffle bag, and Ian clenched his hands awkwardly as they made their way towards the door. Ian didn’t even have time to knock before the door opened.
“Ian!” Mrs Charles, a kindly but overly groomed woman with blonde hair, greeted him enthusiastically, pulling him into a hug.
What he assumed was Mr Charles looked on fondly. Ha had light brown hair and tired eyes. They both looked like the typical American family, though. White picket fence and all.
Ian grimaced but returned the hug, feeling deeply uncomfortable. He was then ushered into the house and plied with soda and various snacks. As he sat there, eyeing up his new host family, he found himself struck by the fact that this was really where he was going to spend the next academic year.
The door opened while Ian was sitting with Mr and Mrs Charles (“ Sophie and Mark, please.” ). He almost didn’t hear it since the house was so damn big, but then a young-sounding voice called out.
“Hey, I’m home!”
Sophie smiled and called for him to come through before addressing Ian. “That’s my son, Grayson.”
Grayson turned out to be a friendly-looking kid. Ian’s age if he was going to guess. He had clearly come straight from some sort of after-school activity as he was dressed in what looked like a PE kit of some sort.
“Oh, um, hi,” Ian greeted him awkwardly, hoping to god the kid didn’t want to shake hands cause he looked seriously sweaty.
“Hey, I’m Grayson, but I think my mom said that already. Nice to meet you,” he said, eyes raking over Ian uncomfortably.
Grayson was eyeing him intently, and Ian would have asked what the fuck his problem was, but he swallowed the words. Now wasn’t the time. Luckily for Ian, he managed to beg off talking anymore in favour of a nap. Mark showed him to his room and left him to it.
The room itself was sparse, clearly a guest room, but that made no difference to him. Ian hadn’t brought much other than his clothes, and he didn’t really fancy trying to make the place more homely. He already had a room back in Manchester. Well, he wasn’t sure what state his stuff would be in when he got back, but he didn’t care about that right then. Fiona had promised that they wouldn’t throw his things out, so that was of some comfort to him.
Despite how tired he was, Ian found it difficult to go to sleep. There was the obvious, that he was in an unfamiliar place with a bunch of strangers and that the curtains were doing nothing to block out the light, but more than that, there was simply too much going on in his mind. He almost felt dizzy with all of the thoughts battling for attention. He turned to face the wall, hoping that the lack of visual stimulation would help to calm his brain down. It didn’t.
He must have fallen asleep eventually, as he woke to the sound of his name being called by an unfamiliar voice. Ian walked down to the kitchen to see Sophie taking plates through to their dining room. It was a proper dining room as well, complete with a wooden dining table and matching chairs. Ian felt out of place and like he should have gotten changed into fresh clothes before coming downstairs.
“Take a seat, honey. Dinner won’t be long,” she said kindly, ushering him through to the table.
Ian took a seat and looked around him awkwardly. Mark was already sitting at the table and flashed Ian a smile when he sat down.
“Did you sleep ok?” He asked.
“I did. I feel a lot better now,” Ian replied, casting about for something else to say. “What are we having?”
“Carbonara,” Mark replied enthusiastically. “My wife is Italian on her mother’s side, so she loves Italian food.”
Ian’s stomach grumbled at the thought. “Sounds lovely.”
Grayson came out not long after, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt instead of his PE clothes. He sat down next to Ian and turned to look at him.
“Sleeping Beauty is up! How’re you feeling, man?” He asked jovially.
Ian shrugged. “Still a bit weird, got a lot of adjusting to do, I think. I’m just glad that I have the weekend to get settled in before school starts.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Grayson replied. “Just a shame you won’t be in my grade.”
“Yeah,” Ian replied, though he didn’t find himself agreeing. “You’re a year younger than me, right?”
Grayson nodded. “A year isn’t much, though.”
It was the age difference between Ian and Lip, and sometimes it felt like no time at all, but most of the time, Ian felt the difference keenly. And within the confines of a school, that difference would be all the more apparent. Ian knew enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to latch on to Grayson and his friends any time soon. The thought of being the new kid didn’t appeal to him, but he had known what he was getting himself into when he signed up for the exchange programme. There was no use complaining about it now, even internally.
Walter Payton High School was a nice school, Ian had been assured as much before he ever made his way to America. The idea of that put him on edge, Ian knew his clothes would make him stand out even before his accent and status as a new kid could do it for him. While he didn’t really believe he’d have his lunch money taken or something like in the movies, Ian was dreading his first day. The idea of having to keep his head down and avoid people for an entire year seemed grim. In Moss Side, they were all poor kids, there was no one able to lord their money over anyone else, and Ian hadn’t realised how much of a blessing that was until now. The fact everyone wore the same uniform helped too.
When the food was served, Ian tried his best to make conversation as they all ate, but it was proving to be tough. He was still tired, for one thing. For another, he had been thrown into the private moment of a family that he didn’t know, and while they were being very nice to him, it didn’t make him feel any less awkward. They were trying their best to include him, but they were just not the sort of people that he had anything in common with.
“How’s football going, son?” Mark asked jovially.
Ian turned to look at Grayson, who was digging into his food with gusto.
“Coach said he might make me captain next semester if I keep up the good work,” he said brightly. Then, he said to Ian. “Do you like sports?”
“Um, I run and work out and things but not really any sport, no,” Ian replied awkwardly.
Grayson wasn’t put off by this in the slightest. “You just haven’t played football yet. You should try out for the team.”
Ian was about to protest that he definitely had played football before when he realised what Grayson meant. And he was right, Ian hadn’t played American football before. To him, it always seemed like rugby with more padding for no reason. But then, he hadn’t looked into it. There must be a reason why it was so popular.
“Yeah,” Ian replied eventually, “I might give it a go. No promises.”
“Awesome, dude!” Grayson enthused as if it was a done deal already.
Mark added. “You should definitely try out, Ian. It’s good to have some extracurricular activities.”
Ian nodded. “I agree. I do cadets back home.”
“Oh?” Sophie hummed. “That’s lovely. A great way to get some discipline, I’m sure.” She looked over to her son, “Maybe we should sign you up for it.”
He groaned. “Not my thing, mom.”
Ian smirked. He tried to imagine Grayson doing drills or anything like that and came up short. But then, he didn’t know him well at all. Still, he seemed like the average sporty boy to him - no more, no less. Ian hadn’t thought much about whether he would end up friends with the son of the people he would be staying with while he was in America, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ian hadn’t just met his new best friend, that was for sure. Still, he tried to be optimistic about it.