And We're Off by Dana Schwartz

Author:Dana Schwartz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2017-04-05T16:56:49+00:00

13

“SO, WHAT BOOK is that?” I ask, finally managing to elbow my way past a half dozen semi-intoxicated Irishmen and squeeze in next to Callum. “I mean, the one in your bag.”

He smiles at me, revealing incisors that are slightly too long, like a vampire or a teen wolf. For whatever reason, I find it ridiculously sexy.

“It’s dumb,” he says. “Silly, I mean.” He pulls out a paperback copy of The Silmarillion so tattered and weather-worn, it looks like it crossed the ocean on a life raft to make its way to Callum.

“So, are you really a big Lord of the Rings fan?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. You at least seen the films?

“Yeah, I’ve seen them,” I lie. By “seen them,” I mean I saw a few minutes of the first one when it was on TV and then turned it off because the old hobbit made a really, really scary face and it was far too late for me to have to deal with that when I closed my eyes that night. I can barely wrap my mind around real history, let alone the entire medieval history of a magical kingdom. I do like Orlando Bloom with blond hair, though.

“So, are you here for the Deece?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “The Deece.” I like the sound of it in my mouth. “You too?”

Callum laughs and puts one of his hands on my shoulder as if to steady himself. “Jesus, no. I mean, I’m actually there plenty because I’ve known Áine and Declan forever, but you should see me try to draw. Nothing like your stuff. I dropped out around stick figures.”

“You live here?” I ask. I’m finding it difficult to wrap my head around the notion that someone could live his entire life in a small town in a corner of an island so far away from everything.

“Well, sort of, yeah. My mum’s in Dublin—I go to school out there, but I spend the summers with my da’ and uncles here.”

“I can’t believe you thought your friends would like my drawings,” I say. Prevent these words from coming out of your mouth, Nora! You don’t want him to think you’re an insane, self-centered American, which, yes, okay, you might be, but let’s go as long as possible without him figuring that out, shall we?

“Ha, I mean, they’re really good! You totally capture the characters. Like something they should put on BuzzFeed or something.”

“Wait, you have BuzzFeed here?”

“Ha! This is Ireland, not, like, Soviet-era Ukraine. They have BuzzFeed everywhere. I remember a mate of mine from last summer—she was also from America—was shocked that I watched Breaking Bad. Like, she didn’t realize we have Netflix.”

I try to focus on Callum’s words, but suddenly, a voice in my head starts nagging me: He’s been at the Deece every year since he was little. He’s seen American girls come and go. You’re no different.

I push the voice away.

“What about you?” Callum asks. “Where you from? And . . . oh, what’s your name? Lord, did I really go this long without asking your name?”

“It’s Nora.

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