Girls Who Travel by Nicole Trilivas

babies.”
    I spat out my cappuccino, and Mina and I keeled over laughing. Gwen looked very pleased with herself for making us both laugh.
    â€œWhere’d you learn that?” I asked incredulously.
    â€œFrom Mina.” She pointed her finger at her sister.
    Mina retorted just as quickly. “Hey! Don’t blame me, you little crack baby.”
    â€œAnd TV,” Gwen added. “From
Law and Order: SUV
. Dad watches it.”
    I didn’t bother correcting her.
    I pictured Mr. Darling. I had only seen him for approximately eight minutes total since I arrived. “You all right, Kika?” he had asked me, or rather demanded of me.
    I just nodded and stared at his tremendously bald head, listening to him smack his nicotine gum in his mouth. That was the extent of our interactions, which was fine with me, becauseI was secretly kind of scared of him, even though he had always been generous with me.
    Once, he asked me what I wanted to do with my life, but when I told him about Gypsies & Boxcars, he asked me all sorts of intimidating questions about returns on investments and import taxes. I rambled on until he stopped listening, and he just mumbled, “How amusing . . .”
    â€œKika, what’s a crack baby?” Gwendy asked me, breaking my thoughts.
    â€œIt’s something little hobgoblins like you should not be calling the other kids. And I think if you stop calling people names, you’ll make some friends,” I added.
    Gwen considered it for a moment. “But they all think I talk funny. And they laugh at me when I say the wrong words.”
    â€œIs that why you won’t talk to them?” I asked, pulling the crêpe away before she drizzled Nutella all over her math homework. (There would be no criminal waste of Nutella on my watch.)
    I scooped Gwen onto my lap. “We can learn all the new British words together so you’ll know what they’re talking about, okay?”
    Gwen nodded bravely.
    I tried again: “You see, it’s like a secret code,” I cooed in a hushed voice with a mysterious glint in my eye.
    This got her excited; Gwen loved mystery. “A secret code?” she repeated, enthralled.
    â€œYup. And we need to crack it. The question is”—I eyed the people around us and flipped up the collar of my shirt in mock suspicion—“will you help?”
    Gwen nodded vigorously. “Does a bear shit in the woods?!”
    I looked at Mina. “We are going to have to watch our mouths around this one.”
    â€œWord,” said Mina.
    â€œWord,” I said back.
    â€œWord,” mimicked Gwen, soberly nodding her head in the same stern way Mina nodded hers.
    As the girls packed away their schoolwork into their backpacks, I stole another look at Mina’s phone to confirm that she definitely wasn’t texting anyone. But why would she lie about something like that?

17
    A DARK , THROATY voice tumbled over the line: “Hiya, gorgeous.”
    It was Lochlon. (Of course it was Lochlon; who else called me “gorgeous” besides Italian maître d’s?)
    Lochlon had flown into Belfast a few nights ago, and here we were, already chatting on the phone at a decent hour for the both of us. Life was so much easier now that we were in the same time zone.
    â€œI can’t believe you have a cell phone,” I gushed.
    â€œAnd why not? This is modern Ireland now. We even have color telly,” he told me with cheerful sarcasm.
    â€œIt’s not that; it’s just the fact that I can reach you whenever I want that gets me excited.”
    His voice went raspy. “Do you want to know what it is that excites me?”
    I was sitting outside on the stoop in front of the Darlings’house, and I looked around. “Oh, I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I spied movement from the house next door. The red door opened, and the nasty neighbor, Aston Hyde