“WHAT AM I LOOKING AT exactly?” I asked as Rowan eased into a sticky parking lot. The Burren was less landscape and more hostile takeover. At first it was subtle, a few flat rocks cropping up in the fields like gray lily pads, but slowly the proportions of stone to grass increased until gray choked out all the cheery green. By the time Rowan slowed to pull over, we were engulfed in cold, depressing rock. A sign read POULNABRONE.
Guidebook Lady had said the Burren was depressing, but this was over-the-top.
Ian pointed to a small, drab structure in the distance. He was already poised for takeoff, seat belt undone, notebook in hand. “The Poulnabrone is a tomb. It’s over two thousand years old.”
I squinted my eyes, turning the tomb into a gray blur. “A tomb? No one said anything about a tomb.”
Rowan slid the car into park, and Ian launched himself out the window feetfirst, his notebook tucked securely under his arm. “See you there!” he called over his shoulder. His sneakers made wet squelching sounds as he sprinted toward the tomb.
Rowan whistled admiringly, keeping his eyes on my brother. He’d been quiet ever since I’d conceded defeat to the Titletrack plan. Ian had talked more, but he looked slightly uncomfortable, like he was wearing a shirt with a scratchy tag. Detecting Ian guilt was a subtle art; his natural energy made it difficult.
“He looks like one of those Jesus lizards. You know, the ones that move so fast, they can run on water?” Rowan said.
I heaved myself into the passenger seat. “Promise me you won’t tell him that. The last thing we need is for Ian to get a Jesus lizard complex.”
His dimple reappeared. “Promise.”
The parking lot was one large, sludgy puddle that seeped into my sneakers the second I hit the ground. A thin shroud of clouds covered the sun, erasing even the illusion of warmth, and I wrapped my bare arms around myself. Why had no one bothered to tell me that Ireland was the climatic equivalent of a walk-in freezer? Once I arrived in Italy, I planned to spend my first few hours there baking in the sun like a loaf of ciabatta bread. And talking to Lina.
Lina will know soon. A violent shiver worked its way down my spine.
“You cold?” Rowan asked, looking at me over the top of the car.
“What makes you think that?” I asked jokingly. My teeth were seconds from chattering.
“Maybe the fact that you’re shivering like a puppy in one of those animal cruelty commercials? You have those commercials in the States, right? For just sixty-three cents a day, you, too, can stop a blond girl from shivering. . . . They used to be on the television all the time.”
“Yep, we have those too.” Archie had a soft spot for animals, and when we were young, we used to wait for the commercials to come on so we could call him into the room and watch him tear up. Siblings can be a special kind of cruel. When my dad found out, he’d lectured us on the fact that we were being cruel about an animal cruelty commercial, and we’d all donated a month’s worth of our allowance to an animal rescue organization.
I plucked at my shorts. “When I packed, I was thinking about Italy, so all I brought were summer clothes. I didn’t realize that Ireland spends all its time in Arctic winter.”
“And you’re here on a good day. Give me a minute.” He ducked back into Clover, and I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. 9:03. I wanted to be at the airport by ten o’clock.
“Hey, Rowan, how long will it take us to get to the airport?” I asked.
“About forty-five minutes.”
“Then we’d better keep this trip short. I don’t want to cut our time close.”
He reemerged, his hair slightly mussed. “Addie, what is this?”
For a second I thought he was talking about the navy-blue sweater he had wrapped around one arm, but then I realized he was holding something in his other hand too. The guidebook.
“Rowan, that’s mine!” I staggered toward him, a tidal wave of embarrassment washing over me.
He studied the cover. “Yeah, I know it’s yours. Is this the guidebook you were talking about? Why does it say it’s about heartbreak?”
“I need you to give that back.” I jumped up, and he let me snatch it from him. I pressed it to my side. “Why were you looking through my stuff anyway?”
“I was just trying to find you a sweater, and your book was under the seat. I thought it was one of mine.” He took a step closer. “But now you’ve got me curious.”
His eyes were puppy-dog soft, and I felt myself cave. And besides, explaining the guidebook didn’t mean I had to spill everything about my heartbreak. “I found this in the library of the hotel. It takes you to important sites in Ireland and then assigns you tasks to do while you’re there. It’s supposed to help you get over having your heart broken.”
“Do you think it would actually work?” The urgency in Rowan’s voice made my eyes snap up. He stared hungrily at the guidebook.
“Uh . . . I’m not really sure,” I said. “The writer is a little eccentric, but it seems like she knows her stuff. Who knows? Maybe it does work.”
“So you’re using the guidebook to help you get over Cubby?” he persisted.
Now he wanted to talk about Cubby too? I straightened up to shut him down, but he must have seen it coming because he quickly backpedaled. “Sorry. That was too personal. It’s just that I’ve, uh”—he shoved his glasses up, fidgeting with the rims—“I’ve actually been through a bit of heartbreak myself.” He met my eyes, and this time his gaze pleaded with me. “So if you’ve discovered some kind of magic guide for getting through it, please don’t hold out on me.”
The vulnerability in his eyes made my heart well up, and before I could talk myself out of it, I thrust the guidebook into his hands, the words spilling out of me: “Maybe you should try it out. There’s a homework assignment for the Burren, and I could help you if you want.” I always did this. Any time someone was in pain, I wanted to fix it immediately. “If you want, I’ll leave the book in the car for you. Maybe you could stop by the sites on the way to your music festival.”
He turned it over in his hands, slowly raising his eyes to mine. “Wow. That’s really nice of you.” He bit his lower lip. “Also, I’m really sorry about my part in keeping Ian from Italy. If I had known . . .”
I waved him off. “I’ll survive. And I really do need some quality time with Lina, so maybe it will be better if Ian isn’t there anyway.”
He nodded, then lifted the book eagerly, hope crossing his face. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to give the homework thing a shot.”
“Of course not. I don’t mind at all,” I said eagerly, my insides glowing the way they always did when I helped someone.
“Then I’ll see you out there. And here, for you.” He tossed me the navy sweater, and I quickly pulled it on. It smelled lightly of cigarette smoke and fell all the way to my knees, but it felt fantastic—like getting a hug the second before you realized you needed one. Now for the Heartache Homework. I turned and looked at the gray, bleak landscape.
Wildflowers. Right.
Lucky for me and my homework assignment, up-close Burren was very different from in-the-car Burren. For one thing, it had a lot more dimension. Yes, flat gray stones covered 90 percent of the ground, but grass and moss exploded up in the cracks between them, bright wildflowers popping up every chance they got.
I walked as far from the tomb as I dared, then collected a handful of flowers. Once I was positive that Ian’s back was turned, I placed them one by one in a circle, naming them as I went. “Mom, Dad, Walter, Archie, Ian, Lina, and Guidebook Lady,” I said aloud. Too bad only one of them even knew about my heartache.
Okay, Guidebook Lady. Now what? I pulled my arms into Rowan’s sweater and turned in a slow circle. How was surrounding myself with floral representations of “my people” supposed to make me feel better?
“How’s it going?” I looked up to see Rowan making his way over to me, his grasshopper-long legs carrying him from rock to rock.
“That was fast,” I said. “Did you read the Burren entry?”
“Yes. I’m a fast reader.” He stopped, remaining respectfully outside the circle. “Is it working?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I mostly just feel stupid.”
“Can I come in?” I nodded, and he stepped in, holding out a sunshine-yellow flower. “Here. I wanted to be one of your flowers.” He grimaced lightly. “Sorry. That sounded really sappy.”
“I thought it was nice,” I said, running my thumb over the silky-smooth petals. No guy had ever given me flowers before. Not even Cubby.
I placed Rowan’s flower next to Ian’s, then—because it felt like I should be doing something—I turned in a slow, self-conscious circle, focusing my attention on each flower, one by one.
When I was back to Rowan’s yellow flower, he looked at me expectantly. “So? Anything?”
“Hmm.” I touched my heart lightly. It didn’t hurt any less, but it actually did feel lighter, like someone had slipped their hands underneath mine to help me with the weight. “I actually do feel kind of different. You should try it.”
“Do I have to turn in a circle?” An embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks. “Or say their names or something?”
“I think you can do whatever you want. You want some time alone?”
“Yes,” he said resolutely. “I think I’d be better without an audience on this one.”
I stepped out of the circle and headed over to join Ian at the site. The tomb was about ten feet tall with several flat slabs of rock standing parallel to one another to form the walls, another resting on top to create a roof. Ian’s pencil scratched furiously across his notebook. What was there to even write about?
“So . . . this is cool,” I said, breaking the silence. “You said this is where Titletrack filmed their first music video?”
He didn’t look up from his notes. “Right where we’re standing. The quality was so bad. In some parts you can barely hear Jared singing, and the cameraman had a sneezing attack at minute two, but they still got a million views. The song’s that good.”
He dropped his notebook to his side and we stood quietly, the wind at our backs. The Burren felt solemn as a church, and just as heavy. Guidebook Lady’s words broadcasted through my mind. Courage + time = healed heart. Spelled out that way, it all seems rather doable, doesn’t it, chickadee?
That’s where Guidebook Lady was wrong, because it didn’t seem doable. Not at all. Especially not when Ian and I could barely talk to each other without spiraling into an argument. I glanced back at Rowan. He was still in the circle, his back to us.
“So you’re really not going to tell Mom about Cubby,” Ian said, reading my mind like normal. I hated the frustration in his voice—his disappointment always felt heavier than anyone else’s.
I shook my head. I knew Ian might be right. Not telling Mom and then having her find out from someone else was a huge risk. But I hadn’t managed to even tell Lina—how could I possibly expect myself to come clean to my mother?
Ian’s voice rang in my mind. You know what Cubby’s been doing, right? I stepped away from him, unable to say a word.
Maybe some time apart would be good for us.
9:21. I spent a few minutes wandering the Burren, and when I finally got to the car and checked the time, my anxiety spiked to a record high. Had we really been here for twenty minutes?
“Guys!” I yelled, waving my arms at both Ian and Rowan. They were standing side by side at the tomb. How had that thing kept their attention for so long? “Guys!”
Ian glanced over, and I tapped an imaginary watch on my wrist. “We need to go. Now.”
He languidly pulled his phone out of his pocket before he and Rowan began jogging toward me. I hurried around the back of the car, something unexpected catching my eye.
“Oh, no.” The tailpipe now sagged lazily to the ground, the tip completely submerged in a puddle of water. I ducked down to assess the damage.
“Sorry. We lost track of time,” Rowan said, his breath heavy as he splashed toward me. “Good thing I’m a fast driver.” He caught sight of my crouched form. “Oh, no, did the pipe come loose?”
“I think we lost a bolt. We have to fix it before we leave.”
Rowan crossed his arms nervously. “Any chance we could fix it later? I don’t want to risk getting you to the airport late.”
I fought it, but the practical side of me won out. If the tailpipe were to disconnect as we were driving, that would be it. No workable car. No airport. No Italy and no Lina. I had to find at least a short-term solution.
I jumped to my feet. “As long as we can get it off the road, we’ll be fine. What do you have that we could tie it up with?”
Rowan tapped his chin, looking at the bumper stickers as if they might be able to help him out. “Dental floss? I might have a bungee cord somewhere.”
I shook my head. “It has to be metal, or it will melt through and we’ll have to stop and do it again.”
“How about these?” Rowan pulled a pair of headphones out of his back pocket, the cords tangled into a nest. “Aren’t the wires inside made out of copper?”
Ian’s mouth dropped open. “Absolutely not. Those are Shure headphones. They’re, like, two hundred dollars.”
“You’re offering me your two-hundred-dollar headphones?” I asked, shocked. I knew Rowan was nice, but this was over-the-top.
He tossed them to me. “They were a guilt present,” he said, bitterness ringing through his voice. “Divorce kid perks.” His shoulders sagged slightly, and Ian gave him a surprised look, but it was pretty clear Rowan didn’t want any follow-up questions.
It was way too generous of an offer, but I had to take him up on it anyway. I had too much at stake. I gave him a nod of thanks, then dropped down to the ground. “Ian, hold the tailpipe up for me.” He obeyed and I crawled halfway under the bumper, water seeping into my shorts as I felt my way around.
I was used to being the family mechanic. The summer after Walter turned sixteen, my brothers and I had a tire blowout on a freeway near our house. I’d dug out the owner’s manual, and by the time my dad had showed up, I was covered in grease, and the spare tire was on. Unlike school, cars had just always made sense to me—there was something comforting about the fact that the answer was always just a popped hood or wrench twist away.
The underside of Rowan’s car was coated in mud, and it took me way longer than it should have to attach the tailpipe. Nerves were not my friend. What felt like an hour later, I jumped to my feet, anxiety rippling through my center. “Got it. Let’s get out of here.”
“Maybe you should change before you get back in Rowan’s car,” Ian said, looking at my clothes. “You look like a mud ball.”
“We don’t have time,” Rowan said, heading for his door. “Hop in, mud ball.”
I was bouncing around the back seat, trying to ignore the fact that the numbers on Clover’s dashboard clock were moving at warp speed, when Rowan suddenly let loose with a word that sounded mispronounced. “Feck!”
Feck? I looked up. “What’s wrong?”
Rowan pointed out the windshield. “That’s what’s wrong.”
I spiked forward anxiously, and what I saw tied my stomach into a neat bow. About a quarter mile up was a tractor. But not just any tractor—this one was massive, spilling out over both lanes of the road like a giant, lumbering lobster. It definitely wasn’t in a hurry. Rowan eased up on the gas and coasted up to it.
“We have to get around it,” I said. Were tractors allowed to just take over the road?
Addie, don’t panic. Don’t panic. We were already late. How was this happening?
“How?” Rowan raked his hand through his hair. “It’s too big to even pull over to let us pass. It takes up the whole road.”
“There’s no way it can stay on the road for long,” Ian said calmly, but his knee burst into full bounce. “Rowan, they can’t stay on the road for long, right?”
“Well . . . ,” Rowan said. He grimaced. “Maybe I should turn around. There’s got to be another route to the freeway.”
The suggestion made me nervous. Another route sounded messy. And risky. A rumble behind us made us all whip around.
“Feck!” This time it was Ian who yelled it. The tractor’s twin was coming up the road behind us. Just as big, just as slow.
“What is this, a tractor parade?” I demanded. Tractor number two was pumpkin orange, and the driver returned our scowls with a cheery wave.
“Great. Tractor buddies,” Rowan said.
“I’m going to talk to them.” Ian rolled his window down, and before Rowan and I realized what he meant, he’d scrambled out of the still-moving car, stumbling when he hit the ground. “Ian! Get back in here,” I yelled. But he ran full speed to the first tractor, mud flipping up behind him.
“Wow. Bennetts don’t mess around, do they?” Rowan said.
“Especially not that one,” I said.
The driver caught sight of Ian and slowed. He jumped up onto the step, moving his arms animatedly as he talked to the driver.
I was about to climb out after him when Ian jumped off the steps and ran back to us. “He can’t get off the road for another ten minutes, but he said there’s a shortcut to the freeway. He’s going to point when we get close.”
“Yes.” Rowan sighed with relief.
“Ten minutes?” I said, looking nervously at the clock. It was already 9:39. The procession started up again, sending a splatter of mud onto our windshield.
The second we hit the freeway, Rowan slammed on the accelerator. “Rowan, drive!” I yelled.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Rowan said shakily. “Addie, I think we can still make it. You aren’t checking a bag, right? And maybe there will be a delay.”
I wanted to believe him, but the adrenaline coursing through my body wouldn’t let me. Flights were never delayed when you wanted them to be. It was only when you had an important connection in an airport that was the size of an island nation that you got delayed. And according to my phone’s GPS, we were still a solid twenty miles from the airport. Time was gaining on us. 10:16.
Clover hit a pothole, and the pile of Rowan’s belongings slid into my side. I fought it back, my heart a jackhammer. I felt like one of the bottle rockets my brothers and I used to set off on the Fourth of July. Another few seconds and I was going to shoot out of the car’s flimsy soft top.
“It’s okay, Addie. We’re going to make it,” Ian said, his fingers wrapped tightly around the grab handle. He’d said it four times now. 10:18. It hadn’t really been a full two minutes, had it?
“This can’t be happening.” The words burst out of my mouth, as frantic as I felt.
This time, no one even attempted to comfort me. We were all in the same state of panicked despair. It had taken us a solid ten minutes to even get to the detour road, and what the tractor driver had failed to mention to Ian was that our “shortcut” was actually a narrow, bumpy dirt road that slowed us to a pace just above tractor speed.
“Airport!” Rowan yelled.
I exhaled in relief. A large green sign read AIRPORT/AERFORT, the Gaelic word accompanied by a picture of a jet. We weren’t there, but we were close. So long as I made it to the aiport an hour before my 11:30 flight, I should be fine. Rowan hit the gas like a NASCAR driver, unfortunately timing it with a sudden pothole. We hit the road hard, and suddenly a loud screeching noise erupted from under the car.
“No!” I screamed.
“What? What was that?” Ian’s fidgeting was so bad, he could have been dancing a tango.
I turned to look out the back window, but I couldn’t see anything. It sounded like the tailpipe was dipping up and down off the road, screeching every time it hit asphalt. The two-hundred-dollar headphones were not going to hold for long.
“Please hold, please hold, please hold,” I prayed aloud.
BAM. A clanging noise filled the car, and I shot to the rear window to see sparks flying out the back. The car behind us slammed on its horn and swerved into the next lane.
“No!” I yelled again.
“What? Addie, what?” Rowan said. “Did it fall?”
I crumpled into my seat, tears filming over my eyes. “We have to pull over.”
Rowan and Ian both visibly deflated, and Rowan pulled to the side. I jumped out. The shoulder was narrow, and cars passed by much too close for comfort as I ran to the back and crouched down. The tailpipe was barely connected, Rowan’s headphones dangling helplessly. How was this happening?
“10:21.” Ian’s hands fell to his sides, his voice shaky. The misery in his voice said it all. 10:21. There was no way we’d make it on time.
I’d missed my flight. I fell back onto my butt in the mud. A large, shuddery sob worked its way to my throat and stuck.
Ian crouched down next to me and rhythmically patted my back. “Addie, it’s okay. We’ll get you another flight. I’ll pay for it myself if I have to.”
“I feel so bad,” Rowan said, crouching down on my other side. “I should have accounted for tractors. I can help pay too.”
“I can’t believe this,” I said weakly, tears flooding me. A plane passed overhead, its engines a dull painful roar. Insult to injury. And I knew the real reason I was upset. All this time I’d been counting down to the exact moment that I could unburden myself by talking to Lina, and now that was delayed. My secret pressed hard on the walls of my chest, burning hot. I couldn’t wait one more second.
I jumped to my feet, leaving the guys behind as I fumbled for my phone. What was I going to say? Hi, Lina. Do you have a second? Because not only did I just miss my flight, but I have something important to tell you. Telling Lina about Cubby from the side of a freeway in Ireland was not what I’d had in mind, but it was going to have to do.
Where would I even start?
If I absolutely had to pinpoint the day things started with Cubby, I guess I’d start with the night he jumped into my car.
I was waiting for Ian after football practice, like I usually did. Rain spattered merrily onto the windshield, and I hugged my knees tightly up against the steering wheel. I refused to turn on the heat on principle alone. It was July. Why couldn’t Seattle act like it?
“Ian, come on,” I muttered, looking at the school doors. My friend and soccer teammate, Olive, had invited me to her house for one of her famous B-movie showings. She had a way of making the worst movies spectacularly entertaining, and Ian was absolutely going to make me late. Suddenly, a TIGERS sweatshirt appeared in the passenger window, and the door yanked open.
“Finally. What took you so long?” I complained, reaching for my seat belt as he slid into the front seat. “Next time I’m going to leave you.”
“You’d really leave me?” I startled at the voice. It was Cubby. Freshly showered, with rosy cheeks and droplets of water clinging to the ends of his hair. He smiled, his bright eyes meeting mine. “You’re staring at me like I’m a ghost. Why?”
“Because . . .” My words tried to catch up with my brain. Because I think about you all the time and now you’re in my car.
“Um, I guess practice is over?” I finally managed. Brilliant.
He grabbed the seat adjuster, reclining a few inches. “So glad it’s over. Practice was brutal.” His head dropped, and if I weren’t so shocked to have him in my car, I probably would have noticed how spent he looked. Ian had mentioned something about the football coach being exceptionally hard on Cubby this year. I guess it was getting to him. “And Ian might be a while. Coach cornered him for strategizing.” He paused, his gaze heavy and invigorating all at once. “Do you still want to hang out? We could go somewhere.”
A hot spiral formed in my stomach. Is this really happening? Do things you daydream about actually happen?
“Where?” I asked, careful to keep my voice even.
He looked out the passenger window and traced his finger over the fogging glass. “Anywhere.”
It took all my effort not to slam my foot on the accelerator. When it came to Cubby, that was my real problem. I never stopped to think, not even once.
“I missed my flight. My parents can’t know and Ian and I got in a fight and there were tractors and Ian’s going to a festival and Lina I missed my flight.” Instead of the calm explanation I’d planned on, everything came out in one big tumbling blob, my words piling on top of each other.
“Addie, slow down,” Lina said sternly. “I need you to slow down.”
“What’s going on?” It was Ren, Lina’s boyfriend, in the background. He was always in the background these days. Did they ever spend time apart? I wished it didn’t bug me so much.
“Just a minute.” She shushed him. “I’m trying to figure that out. Addie, what is going on with you?”
“I told you. I—I just missed my flight.” Tears poured from my closed eyelids, and my voice sounded as shaky as Rowan’s car.
She blew into the phone, sending hot static into my ear. “Yeah, I got that part. But I mean what is going on with you? You’ve been avoiding my calls for the past week and a half, and now you’re standing on the side of the road having a breakdown. This isn’t just about the flight. Or the wedding. Why have you been avoiding me?”
Cubby dropped down like a marionette, swinging in the space between us. Of course I hadn’t fooled Lina. She’d always had this sixth sense about when I needed her. Half the time I didn’t even need to call; she just showed up.
And evasion wasn’t going to work. Not when she’d cornered me like this. I took a deep breath. “Lina, there’s something I need to tell you. About this summer. I was going to tell you as soon as I got to Florence, but—”
“Is this about Cubby Jones?” she asked impatiently.
“I— What?” I cringed, my shoulders shooting up. Had word really spread to Italy? “Who told you?”
Now Lina’s voice was all business. “No one told me anything. You’ve been hiding something since July. Every time we talked, you were just barely holding back. And then you kept casually dropping his name, like, ‘Oh, remember when we were in pottery class and Cubby’s pot exploded in the kiln?’ Not that great of a story, Addie.”
My head fell into my hands. I’d never been very good at lying, doubly so when it was to someone I loved. Walter claimed I was the worst liar in the world. My dad claimed that was a compliment. “Yeah, I guess I was sort of trying to tell you. But not really.”
There was a long pause, and I pressed the phone closer to my ear, desperately trying to read her silence. Could silence sound judgmental? I turned to look at Ian. He and Rowan both slouched miserably against the car, Ian’s hands deep in his pockets.
“So which airport should I fly into? Shannon or Dublin?”
It took me a moment to realize what Lina was saying. “Wait. Did you just ask which airport you should fly into?”
“Yes.” She exhaled impatiently. “That makes the most sense, right? You just told me that you missed your flight and your parents can’t know, so obviously I’m coming to you.”
“You’d . . . fly here?” I’d clearly missed the jump somewhere. “But how would you . . . ?” I brushed away the fresh flood of tears staining my cheeks.
Lina made another impatient noise that was distinctly Italian-flavored. “Listen to me. I have tons of frequent flier miles, and Ren does too, and we’ve both been dying to visit Ireland. I’ll just tell Howard that you need me. You stick with Ian, and I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”
I shut my eyes, letting Lina’s plan unfurl. I stay with Ian. Lina comes to me. Maybe our parents don’t find out. Maybe I still play soccer. Maybe I figure out a way to make Ian stop looking at me like I’m a burr hitchhiking on his sock. It was the best possible plan for the scenario.
“Are you sure?” I managed. “Flying to Ireland is not a small deal.”
“Flying to Ireland is not a huge deal, not when friendship is involved. And, Addie, it’s going to be okay. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”
I wanted to tell her what this moment meant to me, but the words dammed up in my throat. She’d come through with a solution I hadn’t even considered. It made me feel bad about ever having doubted her.
“Thank you,” I finally managed between tears.
“You’re welcome. Sorry you don’t get to taste gelato, but at least we’ll be together. That’s the important part, right?”
“Right.” I opened my eyes to a brilliant swath of sunlight. A small pink bubble formed in my chest. Precarious, but hopeful all the same.
“No. Absolutely not.” That was all it took for Ian to snuff the spark in my chest. “This is my trip. Our trip. It’s once-in-a-lifetime. We’ve been planning this for months now.” Ian edged toward the car protectively. Rowan had managed to find a wire hanger in the trunk, and I’d used it to refasten the bumper.
“Which is why I’m in this position to begin with,” I snapped back. Every time a car went by, I felt like I was about to get sucked onto the road. “If you hadn’t messed with the original plan, then none of this would be happening.” My voice was high and whiny, but I didn’t care. His trip had cost me Italy. “Do you think I wanted to miss my flight?” Though the more I thought about Lina’s plan, the more it made sense. Our best chance of surviving this trip unscathed was to stick together.
“Ian, come on. . . . It does make a lot of sense. Don’t your chances of not getting caught go way down if you’re together?” Rowan asked, echoing my reasoning. I looked at him gratefully, but he was completely zoned in on my brother.
Ian kicked at the ground angrily. “Fine. Fine. But listen to me. This is my trip. No fighting. No Addie drama. No stuff about Cubby. Got it?”
“I do not want to talk about Cubby!” I yelled. “You are the one who keeps bringing him up.” A large truck whooshed by and blew my hair around my face.
“Whoa.” Rowan stepped between us, palms up in stop signs. “We need to establish something right away. I’m completely for this new plan, but I’m not spending the next few days trapped in the middle of whatever’s going on between you. If we do this, there has to be a truce. No fighting.”
To my surprise, Ian calmed almost immediately, his mouth turned down apologetically. “You’re right. Addie, I won’t talk about Cubby if you won’t.”
Really? It was that easy? “Okay,” I said warily.
“Okay?” Rowan’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “So . . . everyone’s good?”
“Good” was a little generous, but I managed a nod and so did Ian. It may have been a forced truce, but it was a truce. It would have to be enough.
We were fifteen minutes into the new plan, the road spooled out in front of us, everyone still slightly shell-shocked, when one aspect of my life suddenly became startlingly clear: I needed a restroom. Immediately.
I elbowed my way into the front of the car. “Rowan, could you please stop next chance you get? I really need a bathroom.”
Ian whirled around, his face tense. “But our next stop isn’t until Dingle.”
“How far is that?” I asked, looking down at his map. Dingle was a finger-shaped peninsula that reached out into the Pacific Ocean, a good hundred miles away. Definitely beyond the capacity of my bladder.
“Are you joking?” I ventured.
He set his mouth firmly. He wasn’t joking. “We have this trip all mapped out. The tailpipe and tractors have already put us way behind.”
“Ian, that’s crazy. The last time I had access to a bathroom, I thought I was going to Italy. Either you let me have a bathroom break or I pee on the back seat.”
He threw a hand up dismissively. “Great. Pee back there. It will be like the coffee can incident on the way to Disneyland.”
“Ian!” I growled. The coffee can incident may be a part of Bennett road trip lore, but that didn’t mean I had any interest in hearing about it all the time. Why couldn’t my brothers ever let anything go?
“What’s the coffee can incident?” Rowan asked, his eyes hinting at a smile.
“What do you think?” I snapped.
“You get the basic elements, right?” Ian said. “Road trip. Coffee can. Girl who—”
“Ian!” I threw my arms around the seat to cover his mouth. “Tell Rowan that story and I swear that I will never speak to you again.”
Ian’s laugh rumbled through my hands, and he pulled them off, but the mood already felt softer. At least the coffee can story was good for something.
“I actually need to put a call in to my mom, so a stop would work great for me. How about we stop in Limerick?” Rowan pointed to a sign. LIMERICK: 20 KM.
“Perfect,” I said gratefully. I could handle twenty kilometers.
Turned out that twenty kilometers of grass-sprouting Irish road was very different from twenty kilometers of, say, any possible other road, and by the time Rowan pulled off the road into a gas station, I had to pee so badly, I was practically immobilized.
“Outoutoutout!” I yelled.
Ian turned, his hand on the headrest. “You have five minutes. And this is the absolute last stop before Dingle.”
“Just move!” I pleaded.
Ian jumped gracefully out of the car and beelined for the convenience store. I did my best to follow, but halfway out I lost one of my shoes, and when I tried to reach for it, I lost my balance and belly flopped onto the ground, which was not ideal for the bladder situation.
I rolled to my side. Rowan’s sweater was studded with gravel, and my elbow screamed in pain.
“Addie, are you okay?” Rowan sprinted around the car to help me up. “Where’s your shoe?”
“No time,” I managed. My bare foot throbbed as I sprinted for the store, but my bladder was now giving me the twenty-second countdown. This was no time for protective footwear.
Inside, I wasted a good five seconds stumbling through the aisles of unfamiliar junk food before realizing there was no restroom inside. Finally, I hurried up to the register. An older woman with braids wrapped around her head had her hip to the counter. “I told her, marry him or don’t. But don’t come crying to me—”
“Hi, love,” the clerk said, latching his gaze onto me eagerly. Save me, his eyes pleaded. “What can I do for you?”
“Wheresthebathroom?” I didn’t have time to space out the words; the situation was too desperate.
He understood the urgency, barking out directions in admirable alacrity. “Toilet’s outside, around back. Just that way.”
I sprinted past Ian filling up a basket with neon-colored caffeine bombs. My stomach was literally sloshing. Finally, I made it to the back, but when I yanked on the handle of the women’s restroom, it didn’t budge. “Hello?” I called, banging my fists on the door.
“Occupied,” replied a cheery Irish voice.
“Could you hurry up, please?” I jiggled the knob desperately. I was going to pee my pants. I was absolutely going to pee my pants.
Suddenly, the men’s room door shifted, and I hurled myself at it just as a bearded man stepped out. “Oh. Men’s room, love,” he said nervously.
“I’m American,” I said, like that explained things. I’m American, so I don’t have to follow gender conventions. He seemed to accept it as a valid explanation—either that or he thought I was crazy—and he darted out of my way. I quickly locked the door and turned around. Even in the awful lighting, the floor was disgusting. Damp and covered in wet toilet paper slime. I instinctively clamped my hand over my nose and mouth.
“Addie, you can do this,” I instructed myself motivationally.
I had to. My only other option was to wait it out in the back of a clown car until Dingle.
By the time I’d hopped my way through the bathroom and then back out again, Rowan was at the car, his phone pressed to his ear. I quickly darted back into the store and picked up the largest box of Sugar Puffs I could find and carried it to the counter. The clerk’s situation hadn’t changed much.
“—so I told her, if she wants to live in a trash heap, that’s fine. She just can’t expect us to—”
“Can I point you to the milk?” The clerk lunged to take my cereal, almost losing his Santa Claus–looking spectacles in the process. How long had he been trapped there?
I shook my head. “Thanks, but I’m on a road trip. We wouldn’t have anyplace to store it.”
Interest sparked in his eyes. “I took a road trip or two myself back when I was your age. Where are you headed?” The braided-haired woman made a little huffing noise, shifting her bags from one hand to the other so I’d be sure to know what an inconvenience I was being.
“Right now we’re going to Dingle, but after that we’re going to a music festival.”
“Electric Picnic?” he asked.
“You’ve heard of it?” Rowan and Ian had said Electric Picnic was a big deal, but I had no way of knowing if they meant big deal in their alternative music world or big deal in the real world. Real world it was.
“Absolutely. I’ll pray for your parents.” He winked. “I’ve never been myself, but my daughter went last year. I get the feeling I heard only a very censored version of what she did there. But, of course, you know the stories.”
His eyes crinkled at the edges. “People getting married in unicorn costumes, outdoor hot tubs made from old claw-foot bathtubs, rave parties in the forest, a sunken double-decker bus . . . petting zoos made entirely of three-legged animals. That sort of thing. Everyone’s in costume and acting badly.”
Was he joking? He didn’t look like he was joking. Plus, who could come up with a list like that on the spot? I stared at him in horror.
“You hadn’t heard the stories,” he said, his eyes crinkling even more.
This brought the need for secrecy to a whole new level of desperation. My parents would flip. It was one thing to sneak off to see a bunch of no-name sites in Ireland, but it was quite another to sneak away to a wild party. Getting caught would probably require them to come up with an entirely new category of punishments.
“Well, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughed at my expression. “Keep your head and you’ll be fine. Is there a particular music act you’re going to see?”
I nodded, regaining my footing. Keep your head. So long as Cubby Jones wasn’t involved, I could handle that. “My brother’s going to see his favorite band. They’re called Titletrack.”
“Titletrack! Their final show,” the woman interjected, clutching her hand to her chest. “You lucky, lucky girl, you!”
I turned to her, aghast. She was a fan? “I love that first song of theirs—Aaron, what’s it called, the one with the music video in the Burren?”
“ ‘Classic,’ ” the clerk said. “We’re definitely fans around here.”
“We’re actually on a Titletrack road trip. I just left the Burren.”
“A Titletrack road trip!” She looked like she was about to faint. She yanked on one braid. “What a wonderful idea. Aaron! Isn’t that a wonderful idea?”
“Wonderful,” he replied dutifully.
“Yes, my brother is a huge fan. He’s right . . .” I turned to point at Ian, but the store was empty. “Uh-oh, I’d better go. Thanks so much for the advice.”
“Stay hydrated,” the man called after me as I rushed through the door.
“Take hand sanitizer!” the woman yelled. “And be careful out on the peninsula. Big storm coming today. One of the worst of the summer.”
“Thanks,” I called over my shoulder.
The second I stepped outside, Rowan’s voice punched me in the ears. “Mum, I told you, I’m not ready to talk about this. You said I had until the end of the summer, and that means two more weeks. And if you want to talk about Dad, call him. . . . Mum, stop.” He hung up, then whirled around, his expression leaping with dismay.
My first instinct was to bolt, but instead I stood there stupidly, clutching my cereal box, resting my bare foot on my shoed one. I probably looked like I’d been eavesdropping. I mean, I had been eavesdropping. It just hadn’t been on purpose. And now I was curious. What was Rowan not ready to talk about?
“Hey, Addie,” Rowan said weakly. “Been there long?”
Please say no was written in a thought bubble over his head. I shook my head as I handed him the cereal. “Not long.”
His face drooped sadly. Fix this, my inner voice demanded. My inner voice had a lot to say about other people’s feelings. I looked around, trying to think of a way to lighten the mood. “So . . . remember when I belly flopped out of your car?”
His face instantly brightened. “On average, how many times a day would you say you dive into parking lots?”
I looked up at the gray sky, pretending to think. “Three. Today’s a slow day.”
His smile increased, then he looked down, kicking a rock toward me. “You know, Addie, you aren’t at all what I expected.”
“Hmmm,” I said, folding my arms. He had a slight smile, so I was pretty sure he’d meant it kindly, but I wasn’t positive.
“ ‘Hmmm,’ what?” he asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “That was one of those compliments that could easily be an insult. Like ‘Did you do something different with your hair? It looks so nice.’ Meaning it looked like crap before.” Rowan’s mouth twitched into a smile. I was talking too much. I steered us back on course. “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you expect?”
His dimple deepened. “Someone more average. I can see why Ian talks about you so much.”
Surprise flooded me. “He told you about me? But I thought you guys didn’t talk about a lot of personal stuff.”
“Just the important things,” Rowan said. “He told me you two are very close. Which is why I’m a little confused that you guys are, uh . . .” He flourished his hand.
“Fighting all the time?” I filled in.
“It was a little surprising,” he admitted. He folded his arms, dropping his gaze down again. “Anyway, I’m glad you came out here, because I have something to show you.” He reached through the window into the back seat and pulled out the guidebook. “While you were in there, I checked the sites against Ian’s map, and a lot of them are pretty close to each other. A few of them even double up with Titletrack sites. And guess what? One of them is on the Dingle Peninsula, which is where we’re headed next!”
He handed me the guidebook, flipping open to an entry marked DINGLE PENINSULA. I clutched the pages tightly.
“What about Ian?” I said, glancing back toward the store. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but every time my love life comes up, someone starts yelling.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” He grinned a cute, lopsided smile that transplanted onto my face. “I’ll handle Ian. Look, I technically could do the guidebook on my own. It’s just that it feels a little . . .” He twisted his mouth. “Pathetic. But if we do it together . . . Maybe it’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb,” I said quickly. My flower ceremony at the Burren hadn’t exactly been the life-changing experience I’d hoped for, but I did like the thought of having some dedicated time to cope with Cubby. Plus, Rowan was really putting himself out there—there was no way I was going to leave him hanging.
I pitched my tone to sound more enthusiastic. “I mean, why not? Worst case, we see some interesting places. Best case, I leave Ireland with an unbroken heart.” Yeah, right. I didn’t believe it for a second.
His face split into a huge smile. “Thanks, Addie. You work on finding your shoe. I’ll work on finding Ian. I’m sure I can talk him into this.”
He took off across the parking lot at a happy sprint, and I turned to watch him. Was it possible that I’d managed to find the only person in the world who was more heartbroken than I was?