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The impression was awful as ever, but it was nice to be so known. “So . . .?”

“So, we better start lookin’ for apartments in Dublin, unless you’ve been fakin’ the whole music thing all along and wanna go to Cork instead.”

The part of A.J. that wasn’t numb from the events of the last ten minutes almost laughed as the future laid out before him.

Ireland. He was going to school in Ireland. With Bren.

His spirits drooped as everyone else he’d loved for the last seventeen years grew faint behind him, and the horizon expanded with promises of the future.

He forced himself to shake the thought from his head. Planes existed, and if worse came to worse, Nat would figure out the whole magical bubble thing and drag everyone else along.

Think less. Smile more.

“So, whaddya think?” Bren’s voice was normal, but A.J. thought he heard the faintest trace of nerves buried under the charm.

Thoughts of his new life filled the space behind his eyes as he lay back on his bed, keen on getting there as soon as he could.

“I think I have to pack, that’s what I think. Oh, and figure out how to tell my parents I’m going back to Ireland.”

He didn’t pinch himself this time. He hadn’t ever had a dream this sweet.

49

Bookbag, box of pens, box of pencils, calculator, protractor, ruler, and perfect weather now that he had to spend three weeks indoors.

The list repeated in his head as he took a bite of the sausage roll he’d pulled from the oven. It was burned and blackened on top since he’d left it in there five minutes after the timer went off, but he needed the calories.

Protein bars, two Red Bulls from the cases that took up the entire bottom shelf of the fridge.

His hand touched his back pocket to check that the letter Arlo had left for him last summer was there. He’d studied harder than he’d ever done in his life these past few weeks, but a little extra luck never hurt anyone.

This was it, then, the week that every moment of his entire education had been leading up to. Thank fuck Mam had to work today. The twenty minutes he’d spent with her staring at him with watery eyes from across the breakfast table had been bad enough.

He was good at maths now. He’d spent more time with his nose in books than any self-respecting bloke who wasn’t Rory should do. He had nothing to worry about.

“Three weeks of hell, then a whole lifetime with Arlo. You can do this.”

He had to.

He would.

50

“Okay, seriously. Just kill me and get it over with already,” Nat muttered.

She fell forward with her arms splayed across the lunch table, her chunk of freshly dyed electric pink hair dangerously close to something brown and congealed.

“Only if you kill me first,” Yu groaned, leaning back to stare at the ceiling, his camera forgotten about in his backpack.

It sucked that they’d been some of the unlucky few who’d had a morning and afternoon final on the same day, but that just meant they’d be done with their single week of finals that much sooner. Poor Bren was eight days into his exams, with another seven to go.

“Can we go in yet?” Nat asked, not lifting her head off the table.

“Didn’t know you were so hungry for history,” A.J. said.

“The sooner we get in, the sooner we can get out. Then my next exam isn’t until Friday.”

Yu waved his hands in the air with his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “Last exam ever. Woo.”