Love & Luck(63)

I shuffled through my pocket, emerging with a handful of coins left over from paying for our spilled eggs at the coffee shop. I handed one to Ian. “We have to make wishes, and then place these on the stump as an offering.”

“Just like Jared did,” Rowan said triumphantly.

Ian’s eyes grew wide, and not because Rowan’s voice was over the fairy-approved decibels. “Jared came here?”

Rowan nodded, finally letting his smile break loose. “This morning I was reading more about Titletrack’s early days, and I came across this old interview where Jared told a story about stopping at a fairy ring near Cobh. He was actually on his way to Kinsale, which is farther south, but he happened to stop at Au Bohair for lunch, and he met Miriam.”

I bounced happily on my feet. “He stopped to make a wish, and the rest is history. You really think this is the fairy ring he stopped at?”

Rowan shrugged. “I can’t really know, but he said it was close to Cobh, and this is pretty much the only main road from Dublin. And here’s the part I really liked about the story. Instead of wishing to become a famous musician, he said he asked the fairies for ‘the next thing he needed.’ A few hours later he met Miriam, and then the rest was history.”

“Rowan, this is perfect!” Ian yelled, disregarding the fairies’ delicate ears. He pointed to the stump. “This is the real beginning of Titletrack. Right here.”

Rowan splayed his arms out proudly. “Didn’t I say I’d deliver?”

I squeezed his arm. “Nice work, Rowan.”

“All right, then, time for wishes,” Ian announced. “If it worked for Jared, it’ll work for us. Rowan, you found this place, so you go first.”

Rowan strode over to the stump and carefully placed his gum next to a bobby pin. As he set it down, something about his posture changed. Opened up. There was a long, quiet pause, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and clear. “I wish my mom and dad would let go of each other.”

I suddenly felt like a trespasser, stumbling upon a private moment. Ian and I exchanged a quick glance. Did Rowan need a moment alone? I began edging backward, but Rowan’s voice held me in place.

“My entire life they’ve always fought.” He turned back toward us, his face even. “Bad fights. Even in public. Once we were out to dinner and their fighting got so bad that someone called the guards.” He shuddered lightly. “I was so relieved on New Year’s when they told me they were getting a divorce, because I thought, Finally. It’s over.

“But it isn’t over. They don’t live in the same house anymore, but in some ways they’re just as connected to each other by anger as they were by marriage. And now I’m always in the middle—I can’t get away from it.” He gestured toward the car. “They want me to choose who to live with for the school year. That’s why all my stuff is packed into Clover. I still don’t know which one. Both places sound miserable.”

My heart thickened. “Rowan . . . ,” I started, but I didn’t know where to go from there. Sunlight spilled over him, highlighting all the layers of his sadness. I’d never thought of connection that way—that hatred could be just as binding as love. My chest ached for him.

“I’m so sorry,” Ian said. “I didn’t know you were going through all this. I would have tried to help.”

“You did help; you just didn’t know it.” Rowan dug the toe of his sneaker into the ground. “I needed someone who knew me outside of my family context. And I’m sorry I kept harping on you guys about your arguing—it just kept triggering me. I know your mom can be hard on you, but you look out for each other, and I can tell your family is the real deal.” He looked up, his eyes open and vulnerable. “I just wish I had what you have.”

My feet carried me to him, my arm slipping around his back. “Rowan, you do have us. We’re here with you, and we’ll be here as long as you need us.”

Ian flanked his other side, the three of us looking down at the stump. I carefully set a coin down. “My wish is for Rowan,” I said, measuring my words. “I wish that Rowan will be happy, and that he’ll know he’s not alone.”

“Me too,” Ian said, setting his coin next to mine. “My wish is for Rowan.”

Rowan didn’t thank us. He didn’t have to. Over the past three ridiculous days, Rowan had been carrying us, holding steady through our fights and bitter remarks. This was about thanking him.

Finally, Rowan broke the silence. “I think that helped. Anyone feel like going to Electric Picnic?”

“I guess,” I said nonchalantly, and Ian grinned. “I don’t really have any other plans.”

We were exiting the muddy bank when my phone chimed. Ian stiffened. “Oh, no. Did Walt spill?”

I lifted the screen to my face. It was Olive.

ADDIE, ARE YOU OK? NOW EVERYONE IS

TALKING ABOUT CUBBY AND A PHOTO OF YOU.

No. I froze, willing the letters to rearrange, willing the message to mean something other than what it meant. My breath turned shallow, my hands clammy.

Olive’s “everyone” was bigger than most people’s. She was one of those rare people who managed to fit in with every social group on the high school spectrum, as comfortable with the other soccer players as she was the debate team. If she said everyone, she meant everyone.