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Arlo’s voice cracked as he stumbled up from the floor beside Nat. Bren followed Arlo’s lead and wrapped his arms around him. It wasn’t the sort of hug you’d give your mate, but given the fact that everyone went on with their conversations, it seemed no one cared.

“Hey, guys? Guys!” Arlo said, shaking the shoulder of a guy in a striped T-shirt between two girls. “This is Bren!”

“Wait, like, Ireland Bren?” asked the brunette on his left.

“Yup!” Arlo beamed, giving Bren’s hand a squeeze.

The surge that little squeeze sent through his body made the blood leave his brain enough that his words rushed out too close together.

“Any craic?”

“Uh, what’d he say?” the guy asked, like Bren couldn’t hear him.

“‘Any craic.’ It means, like, ‘What’s up?’”

“So not, like, the drug?”

A memory stirred at the back of Bren’s mind of Arlo asking this exact same thing on his first day. This was a lot less cute than that had been.

“No, it means fun,” Arlo said.

Bren tried to ignore the colour that was showing on his cheeks and shrugged.

“Maybe I actually wanted drugs this time.”

“Oh my gosh!” the girl on his right swooned. “I’m, like, obsessed with your accent.”

Bren ignored the part of him that was already tired of that and hitched a smile on his face.

“Cheers, but I think you might need your ears checked.”

It’d die down after a week or two. But if it didn’t, he might have to ask Arlo to teach him how to speak Canadian. It’d be a good excuse to get some time with those lips, at least.

5

“You’re takin’ the piss. No way that’s what they’re called.”

“I’m telling the truth, swear down,” A.J. said, locking eyes as he used the borrowed phrase.

“Bein’ cute isn’t gonna get you outta this.”

A.J. pulled the parking brake, then dug around the center console.

“See for yourself.”

A.J. set the coin in Bren’s outstretched hand and took a sip of his frappe—with chocolate instead of regular milk, a life changing tip Nat had handed him back in grade nine. Bren’s cup was already empty, which put the strange worry of whether or not he’d like Dutch Bakery out of his mind.

“OK. Coin’s got a duck and an ugly old bird. What’s your point?”

A.J. fumbled the catch when Bren tossed the coin back and had to go digging around between the seats to fish it out.

“It’s a loon,” he said as he pulled out the coin along with a couple of dusty fruit snacks. “Loon. Loonie. Two. Toonie. Get it?”

“This is why no one takes your country serious, like.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re the mad ones. You likin’ that yoke, though?” A.J. said with his best Glenbridge accent. “Ah, sure you know yourself.”

A.J. fled the car and up the path to the back door before Bren had a chance to strangle him. Mom’s garden flanked either side of the steps. There were a few flowers stubbornly hanging on, but they’d be dropping their petals soon enough.