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“Aw, fuck, I miss my Robolad.”

A.J.’s back tensed when shuffling paper gave way to another envelope being torn open. Even if he did get in, it didn’t really matter unless Bren got into the same city too, right?

He took a breath and tried to see the truth past the worry. Even if they got into colleges in different counties, they’d still be able to see each other on the weekends, which was way more than they were able to do now.

It was hard to worry about the future when there were about a thousand different variations of it all simmering together like the world’s most unappetizing soup.

“Okay, so how do you want me to do this?” Nat asked.

A.J.’s spiral screeched to a halt as her voice dragged him back to reality. “What?”

“I mean, do I do the whole ‘opposite of what you really got’ fake out, or do you want me to just tell you the truth? Oh! I could do it like a dramatic reading.”

She turned her face and waved her hands like she was rearranging her features, and when she spoke again, her voice was caught somewhere between Blanche DeBois and Truvy Jones.

“I’ll never forget that fateful spring day when I found out ol’ A.J. was goin’ to leave our sleepy little town for that good for nothin’ Irish beau of his. Oh, my heart!”

She clapped the back of her hand to her forehead and fell against the bed in an exaggerated swooning fit as A.J.’s spine stiffened.

“W-what?”

“You got in, dude,” Nat said, in a remarkable recovery from both her unfortunate accent and fit of the vapers.

“Really?”

“Yeah, to both of them. So you might want to start obsessing over which one you wanna pick now if you wanna be normal by August.”

The world came into that bright hyper-focus that always made him feel like he was about to pass out—like he was suddenly inhaling pure oxygen—but he brought his whole being back to normal just in time.

His numb legs carried him to Nat where he ripped the papers out of her grasp.

“Alright, I’m gonna leave you two alone for a bit,” she said.

It took him longer than it should have to realize she’d left, and even longer for his brain to catch up to the cheering voice on speakerphone.

“Well, alright, Arlo!”

“Bren! I got in!”

“Yeah, I was there, lad.”

The sheets of paper shook in his hands as he double-checked their contents again in case both he and Nat had misunderstood their meaning. University College Cork and—his heart did a backflip that gave him a need to sit down—the Royal Irish Academy of Music both wanted him.

“Hey, Arlo? Promise you won’t be pissed, but I got a couple letters back last week. From Ireland, I mean.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re talkin’ to a future Business Studies major at Dublin City. As long as he doesn’t feck up his Certs.”

“What?!” He dove onto the bed and pressed the receiver to his ear before he’d even shut the speakerphone off.

“Well, that or Kemmy Business School over in Limerick. But who the fuck wants to live in Limerick if you’re not there?”

The surreal surge of clarity pressed down on him again. He bunched up a wad of skin on his forearm and twisted, and the shock of pain confirmed he wasn’t dreaming.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The silence that followed suggested Bren was choosing his words carefully. “You were already kinda spinnin’ out, lad. I didn’t want to go and get you thinkin’.” His voice changed in the way that A.J. was sure Bren thought sounded Canadian. “‘Oh, no, what if I don’t get in anywhere in Ireland and I have to tell my super handsome and charming boyfriend that he has to give up his dream of living in Limerick for me?’”