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“They’re the best.” She grins, then shoves a couple more into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she goes on. “Everyone agrees we make the best fries. You can look it up online.”
“If it’s online, it must be true.” I parrot one of my dad’s favorite sayings.
She giggles and points her fork at me. “This time, it is. Ask anyone.” She swings around and accosts a young man sitting on the steps of the building we’re passing. “Verzeihung. Welches Land macht die leckersten Pommes Frites?”
The guy jerks in surprise, frowning at Lina. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, English.” She repeats the question in that language.
“Fries? Do you mean chips?” The guy’s British accent is to die for. “Belgium. Definitely the best.”
Lina bumps her shoulder against mine. “See?” She saunters on without another word to the British guy. He stares after her, bemused.
“I guess I’ll have to take a trip to Belgium.”
“Yes!” She shoves her fork into the cone and grabs my arm with her free hand. “What do you call it? A road trip? When do you go back to the US? You can stay a few extra days. Maybe change your ticket and fly out of Amsterdam. There are lots of US flights from Schiphol.”
“I don’t—why do you even know that?” I take the opportunity to snag a few more fries.
She shrugs and whips around to start walking again. “I know lots of things. Who knows where I hear them. We’ll take the train up when school gets out. You can stay with me and my mother. I’ll take you to Bruxelles. It’s only an hour from my home. And Bruges. Much farther, but worth the trip. It’s so pretty—lots of amazing pictures for Instagram. If you stay longer, we can go to Paris!”
I laugh. “Hang on, I don’t even know if I can change my flight.” Lina has got to be the friendliest girl I’ve ever met. And the most impulsive. We barely know each other, and she’s already planning a week-long visit. “It would be fun, though.”
“Yes. Let’s do it!” She drops the empty paper cone into a trashcan. “If you come back in the summer, we can go to Spain, Italy, Greece. Ooh, how about Morocco?”
“Let’s see how the first week goes, okay? We might hate each other after sharing a bathroom for a few days.”
She pouts. “No! You and I will be the best of friends. I am convinced. Where shall we go now?”
I stifle a yawn—it’s the middle of the night back home, and my body needs a few days to catch up. “I dunno. Lunch?”
She laughs. “We just ate all those fries! You just want to sit down. That’s not gonna happen. You need to keep moving. Let’s rent bikes.” Grabbing my arm, she drags me across the campus.
Chapter Eight
TEO
My phone bleeps with a message from Hans.
I think Svetlana ghosted me. Come have a beer and put me out of my misery.
Who’s Svetlana?
Girl from the dorm.
Her name was Oksana.
How u know?
We talked to her, remember? After you unpacked.
Too jet-lagged. Don’t remember.
You’re a donkey butt, Hans.
Who Hans? Dis Steve.
I send back an eye-roll emoji and tell him to send me a pin so I can find him. I shoot a text to my sister Andela, the party queen of our family. She’s undoubtedly out somewhere tonight, so I can drag Hans to whatever pub she deems “cool” enough. Then I change into a clean shirt and grab a pair of shoes.
