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Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was lying through their teeth. A.J. Walker didn’t blame whoever was responsible for the expression, though. The alternative was to sit with the reality of what absence actually did, which turned a normal person into a weeping, heart-sick mess.

He’d been keeping up a low-grade whimper ever since he’d stepped onto the plane back in July, but nearly crying because he’d spotted a ladybug was a new low.

Bóín Dé, God’s little cow.

Brendan “Bren” O’Shea had taught him the Irish name for the little beetles one day when they’d been on a walk. It didn’t help that the black dots on the red background reminded him of Bren. How many other bugs had freckles?

He didn’t have the heart to flick God’s favourite cow off his desk, so he tried to focus his attention on the front of the class where Mrs. Tremblay was rattling off this semester’s syllabus. It was ironic that one of his favourite teachers taught his least favourite subject. Why did math have to be compulsory?

“So, I don’t want anyone coming to me a week before finals asking if there’s any extra credit. If you try your best over the semester, you should do just fine.”

Yeah, right.

There were any number of things A.J. thought he was likely to be throughout the course of the year, but just fine wasn’t anywhere on the list.

He’d never been one of those people who lived for the idea of senior year, but despite his best efforts, there were a few things he’d been looking forward to since mid-way through grade ten. Senior skip day, senior shirts, class rings; the closer he got to grade twelve, the cooler they all seemed to get. Then there was the fact that he and Nat were all but guaranteed good roles in the musical as long as Mrs. Lovell didn’t pick something like Gypsy again.

Did he still want that, though?

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but the place inside him where music came from had become indistinguishable from the spot where Bren’s crooked smile lived. How was he supposed to make music when he could barely manage a smile of his own these days.

A.J. forced his attention back to Mrs. Tremblay. If he couldn’t turn his thoughts off, he may as well focus them on math. Maybe he’d crack down and ace the stupid subject this year.

That’d distract him from Bren . . . and wouldn’t Bren be surprised if he told him he’d gotten a 90 at the end of the semester?

You need help, dude.

Just as A.J. managed to force his mind back to the front of the class, Mrs. Tremblay was cut off mid-sentence by a resonant knock on the door. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had been zoning out, because more than a couple of people jumped at the sound.

“Come in,” Mrs. Tremblay called.

The door slid open and the principal’s head popped in from the hallway.

“Sorry to interrupt, Valerie. We ran a little late.”

The principal, Mrs. MacDonald, pulled her head back from the doorway and said something A.J. didn’t catch. He was about to go back to staring at his six-legged frenemy when a boy with red hair and enough freckles to put a swarm of ladybugs to shame entered the room.

“Well, since you’re already up here, would you like to introduce yourself to the class, or should I?” Mrs. Tremblay asked, like A.J.’s heart hadn’t just punched a hole through his chest.

A chuckle that A.J. had only heard in his dreams since leaving Ireland coated the classroom in warmth.

“Ah, sure. Me, I guess.” He squared his shoulders, looking adorable but very bizarre in a Valcom T-shirt and jeans with a rip in the right knee. “My name’s Bren and I guess you can probably tell I’m here on exchange.”

Most people’s eyes were locked on Bren, but a handful of his classmates turned their heads towards A.J. Nat was among the latter, grinning like she was off on her way to confuse someone named Alice.

A.J.’s palms were sweating so badly he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked down and saw rivers running along them. Someone else said something, but his brain couldn’t make sense of it.

“A.J.”

“What?”

Mrs. Tremblay’s voice broke through the static and he turned to find her staring at him like she was about to ask if he needed to go lie down.

“Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah.” A.J. was dimly aware that his voice was coming out an octave higher than usual, but wasn’t sure what to do with that knowledge just now. Mrs. Tremblay tilted her head like she was expecting him to say something else. When all he did was stare back at her, she cleared her throat.