“I think…” I managed. “I think I just kissed Julian Young vicariously?”
Eamon laughed and touched the side of my face with hesitant fingers. “He’ll take it wrong, so don’t tell him, but your lips are far better.”
SET ’EM ALL UP, KNOCK ’EM ALL DOWN
Two hours after Eamon lit me up in a dim, cramped ferry cabin, I was being thrown about the craft services van. The seat belt did nothing to combat the whippy, windy roads, and Mr. Donato drove like a fiend. Beside me, Ryder tossed his weight into each turn with delight.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I muttered.
“Peppermints for Iris!” Mr. Donato called out. The person in the passenger seat, Susan, handed back a fistful of wrapped candies. I popped one in my mouth while Ryder beamed. I’d never seen him so proud of a set of people. There was Mr. Donato—a passable stand in for Stanley Tucci—Susan, his second-in-command and a stout, fierce blond. And then Bob and Dean in the back who were definitely smoking hash during the breaks. They were quirky and fun, a bonded subset of the crew family.
“Mr. Donato has five daughters, Iris. Five!” Ryder said.
“Alice, Hero, Deirdre, Ryan, and Sierra. The eldest is nineteen and the littlest is nine,” Mr. Donato said. “The hormones in my house could wipe out a village, so when Cate Collins said, ‘Come on to Ireland with me, Paul Donato,’ I said, ‘My bags are packed!’ Oh, but I miss them,” he added, and Susan awwwed. “My wife is going to shoot me when I get back.”
Ryder laughed hard. I gave him a peppermint, enjoying how entertained he was by this Mr. Donato. I parted his hair with my fingers, and he leaned into my hand like a puppy needing a scratch. We were back to normal with one another, but also…not. It would be hard to forget how we’d both gone for the jugular yesterday. Our dad snapped like that all time, but we’d never done it before. Speaking of my dad, I checked my email. He still hadn’t responded to my message about wanting to come home, and after everything, did I still want to?
No. I wanted to be real friends with Julian and Shoshanna. More than friends with Eamon. We’d all stepped off the ferry together, and it’d felt unbelievable—even if I was hiding behind a craft services crate. The three actors had posed for the press and answered questions, and Shoshanna had winked. Eamon glanced at me too, and I wanted him to blush so bad that I think he did.
The memory of his lips was bright, leaving me warm. Was that a real kiss? Something he wanted, or did the moment just…happen? More importantly, how could I make it happen again?
When my attention came back to the car, Ryder was giggling at Mr. Donato’s lively story about the time Sierra painted Alice’s toenails with jelly. “The moral of the story is that kids get wiser as you go. Sierra stole all her sisters’ secrets, so you don’t mess with Sierra. Ryder back there probably knows all of Iris’s biggest fears. Siblings are dangerous.”
Ryder was beaming. I couldn’t resist. “All right. What’s my biggest fear, Ry?”
He wiped stray, happy tears from his cheeks with the back of his arm. “You’re afraid of people hearing you play guitar. Oh, and that Dad’ll make you stay home for college and take care of me.”
I tried to laugh, but the humor lodged in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
An hour later, we arrived at Killykeen Forest Park in County Cavan. The trees painted the horizon in scallops of green, while a meandering lake wound around everything. Then, right in the middle, a crumbling, old tower sat on a spit of island. It was Elementia. I pictured the map—the one my in-flight boyfriend had tattooed on his chest—and I was surprised to know where this very real place belonged in that made-up landscape.
We climbed out of the van, and Mr. Donato loaded my arms with sacks of potatoes. I searched everywhere for Eamon’s car, but the red rust bucket was nowhere in sight. I helped the crew set up and watched as the trailers were placed in a circle, similar to their arrangement on Inishmore, which felt sort of like…home.
The evening sky was a warm stretch of pastels as I slumped on a picnic table and watched two people in a rowboat by the island tower. They were laughing so loud that disembodied shrieks shot across the water, messing up the ambiance.
Julian sat beside me. “Thanks for your help earlier. You’re a lifesaver. Get it? Boat. Water. Lifesaver?”
I nodded.
Julian cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have laughed at your guitar playing.”
“Of course you should have laughed. It was ridiculous,” I said. Admitting this aloud helped. “That video shouldn’t exist, but…not all my songs are that bad,” I dared.
“You’ve got talent, Iris. We can see that. You just haven’t found your feet yet.” He pulled out his phone and thumbed a quick YouTube search. He held out the screen. “Watch. Laugh.”
Over the course of the next thirty-two seconds, I watched the most ridiculous commercial I’ve ever seen. First a girl tried on different swimsuits only to realize she’d gotten her period with a terrible oh no face. The girl’s mom came to the rescue and handed her a box of tampons—and then cut to the girl on some California beach, smiling at a boy playing volleyball. And then for the final shot, they were waist-high in the surf, kissing.
“Is that…”
“Me,” Julian said. “Yes, my very first acting gig was Hunky Beach Guy in a tampon commercial. I’d be thrilled if you didn’t share this with other people, although some a-hole put it on my Wikipedia page.” He fixed the sides of his hair with careful fingers. “Well, I’m out of here tomorrow for the week. Any words of wisdom as I head home to face the girl who’s about to break my heart?”
“What?” I turned to him, almost shouting, “You can’t leave!”
“All my interiors are going to be shot on the soundstage in LA, but I’ll be back for the grand finale in Dingle.” He glanced over the water with me, sighing dramatically—Julianly. “Bonding exercises, ugh. They get extra points for the rowboat. I’m actually surprised Cate waited this long to get on their case, Eamon needing to act like he’s in love with her and all.”
“What?” I asked again like a sound clip.
He motioned to the people in the boat. “Eamon and Shoshanna. Shosh thinks she’s method. You might want to give our boy Eamon a heads up. She’s going after him.”
I squinted at the rowboat, now understanding the silhouette that was Shoshanna’s mighty hair and the lean mark of Eamon’s body, rowing. So Julian was leaving, and Eamon was now Shoshanna’s plaything. Great. My earlier hopes about making real friends and finding love sunk so hard I doubled over.
Julian was trying to read my expression. I suppose it wasn’t hard. “You like him? He’s a decent kisser, I can tell you that much.” We both sort of laughed, but it was painful on my end. “So is this a crush or true liking?”
“What’s the difference?”
“A crush is obligatory—new scene, new people, new crush. Elora says I always get a ‘work crush,’ which she teases me about nonstop.”
“Your fiancée teases you about having crushes on other people?”
“Hey, I’m in the business of kissing. It’s not love in the movies. It’s love and the movies. If the actors don’t love me, the audience doesn’t love me.” He smiled, and again, I had a flash of how different the real Julian was from the on-screen person I’d idolized.
“So a crush is a crush, but real liking is…what exactly?”
“Hard. Impossible. You’ve got to have serious courage to make it work.”
I hung my head. “Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about me then.”
Julian hooked his hands behind his head. “You know why I wanted to be Nolan, Iris? It’s not only that I’m good at romantic roles. Nolan is a great character. Your grandma must have had incredible love in her life to write a guy who gives up body and soul for his girl. If we pull this off, fans are going to fall for Eamon. They�
��re going to tattoo Nolan on their wrists.”
I honked—a sarcastic laugh turned pained goose.
Julian stared at the sky over the lake, looking for said waterfowl, no doubt. “I want to be that courageous with Elora,” he whispered. “I want to be her Nolan.”
I couldn’t help him there. Not even a little. And I had to work hard not to call Julian a Thornian. Maybe this was the fantasy conversion camp Cate threatened back on the first day.
I squinted at the rowboat. Shoshanna and Eamon stood together, making the boat tip, yelling and laughing. I stood up too, ready to give up, and Julian patted my shoulder. “Don’t look hopeless. Especially if you keep this up.” He gestured to my clothes.
“This is my messy look,” I said, surprised to have my second compliment on this outfit.
“Well, messy is a good look on you.” Julian grinned. “Badass Iris.”
Henrik walked over like he was on a rather serious mission. “Cate wants to see you.” Julian stood up, but Henrik shook his head. “Not you. You.” He pointed to me.
• • •
Cate called, “Come in, Iris!”
Her trailer was identical to the others, except that it was overflowing with office equipment. She sat at the tiny table, reviewing a script on her computer, and pointed for me to sit on the chair across from her. First I had to move a stack of different editions of the Elementia series, which was a little like cradling my trust fund.
She glanced up, all steely eyed—a bird-boned, Irish Vito Corleone. “I have two reasons to thank you. First, Julian’s delivery yesterday was finally in character. He said you gave him new perspective. Secondly, the music for the teaser trailer smashed expectations with the focus group. You have a gift, Iris.”
I shrugged one shoulder, trying not to remember the spectacular gift of Ryder’s iPad flying through the air, my wretched singing coming to an abrupt crack.
“Have you ever thought about becoming a music supervisor?” she asked.
“A what?”
“Someone who selects music for films, TV, et cetera. A soundtrack artist.”
“My dad would freak if I tried to work in Hollywood,” I said. “He’s not a big fan of…you guys.”
“I did notice, but I asked you, not him.” Cate shut her laptop. “Speaking of, I’ve had an email from your father.”
“What? When?”
“About an hour ago.”
I whipped out my phone, fully aware that she was giving me one of those your generation doesn’t know about social courtesy looks. I checked my email but there was nothing from my dad. “He messaged you but he didn’t even bother to reply to me?”
Cate frowned. “Do you want to know what he said?”
I shoved my phone in my back pocket. “When’s he going to be here?”
“He changed his mind. He’s not coming.”
“Of course,” I muttered. “Why would he keep his word?”
“He’s having trouble wrapping up the book he’s writing.” She said this like writing was an exotic, fragile, sacred business. It wasn’t—not for my dad. He was an industrial word factory, all pounding keys and fuming snorts. “I know you’re anxious to leave, but this might be a blessing in disguise.” She said disguise like the most Irish person on the planet. Which made me think of Eamon. Which made me want to get the heck out of Ireland before my crush turned into the scary kind of liking that Julian talked about.
Cate didn’t say anything, but I could feel her eyes. “Are we so bad, Iris Thorne?”
“You’re actually growing on me,” I mumbled.
“And you’ve been growing on us. Eamon and I have come up with a plan for you.”
I ignored her name-drop of the boy I was trying to pretend didn’t exist. “Another job?”
“You know that scene in The Return of the King when Pippin sings to Denethor—it’s one of J. R. R. Tolkien’s poems. Billy Boyd, the actor, wrote the melody, and I think we can all agree it made for one of the most powerful moments in that final movie.” She paused. “Don’t tell Henrik I said that. He’d like it too much.”
“I haven’t seen those movies.” Lie. “I’m not into elves.” More lies. “Wait. You’re not going to ask me to write a song for one of my grandmother’s poems, are you?”
Cate raised her nose in the air. “I might be.”
“Well, ask Julian, Shoshanna, or even Roxanne—I can’t sing or play guitar. They heard me. They laughed.” My voice scratched.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve heard you play and sing, and I know you are good.” Cate proffered Eamon’s handheld video camera. She opened the view screen and hit play. Eamon ran the gravel beach, talking to the camera, giving facts about Inishmore. Then he stopped. He zoomed in on the cliff above. Or, more specifically, my foot dangling over the edge. I was playing my song—the pretty, moving, fingerpicking melody that had stumbled out of me when I felt like no one in the world was listening. I took the camera, turning my ear toward the tiny speaker to hear the song over the shush of the waves. “What a girl,” Eamon half whispered, and my heartbeat banged in a rush.
Cate was eyeing me, and I shut the view screen, forcing nonchalance.
“Eamon only gave this to me after I assured him I would not let you destroy him for taping your foot and song. I don’t know what you said to that boy, but he lives in fear of your wrath.” She said that with the fierce, just be a courageous woman attitude I remembered from our run yesterday. Was that only yesterday? Every day here felt like a lifetime. “I’m glad to see you’ve got the reins in that relationship,” she added.
Ha!
“So yes, Iris. I am asking you to write a song for one of your grandmother’s poems. It’ll be for the most important scene in the movie—when Sevyn meets Nolan.” She handed me a piece of paper. “I’d like you to record the song you were playing on the cliff. That was perfect. Match the lyrics to it however you see fit.”
“Record? Record where?”
“In a studio in Dublin. Tomorrow. Julian needs a ride to the airport, and I’ve already made an appointment for you.” I opened my mouth and a croaky protest came out instead of words. “Eamon says you want to have a songwriting career. This would be a serious step toward that goal. And you will be paid. I don’t believe artists should volunteer their skills.”
Record a song? For the movie? Tomorrow?
“But my dad will be so—”
“Your dad is not here, and that was his choice. You’re, what, seventeen, Iris? Your time in his shadow is coming to an abrupt end. It’s time for you to make your own choices, and I know how tough that can be. I had to wrestle my future out of the grips of my controlling, small-minded grandmother who thought going to film school was the equivalent of setting myself on fire.” She paused, and her whole face smoothed, relaxed. “Iris, I see you trying to be more. I know that fight. I want to help.”
My negative thoughts crept up and up and out. “You’re only offering this because I’m M. E. Thorne’s granddaughter.”
“True,” Cate said. “But I’m only here because I’m one of the Coppola cousins.”
“You are?”
“No!” She leaned forward, aflame. “But if I were, you better believe I’d be calling them right now and asking for a little support. Don’t turn your nose up at friends, Iris Thorne. You helped my production, and now I’m helping you. This is what women should do for one another. We are a continent. We stick together. We all rise up, or we all go down. Now go practice.”
Two days ago this speech might have made my eyes roll. Today all I could think about was standing on that cliff’s edge, feeling connected to Grandma Mae. To knowing the grief and love that made her write—and somehow set her free.
PHILIP PULLMAN WILL BREAK YOUR HEART
Back at my trailer, I got Ryder into bed, assuring him that, “Yes, I like Mr. Do
nato,” and “Yes, he’s very funny.”
“I bet he’s the best dad,” Ryder said through a yawn. “I wish we had a dad like that.”
I bristled all over. “Dad is all right. Mom too.”
“He said he was coming.” Ryder turned away, face to the wall. “I bet he doesn’t show.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was right. “I’m here,” I said. “Although apparently I’m going to Dublin tomorrow to record a song for the soundtrack. I’m supposed to use one of Grandma Mae’s poems for the lyrics.”
Ryder shot up and fastened his arms around my neck. “That’s amazing!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m glad you think so. I feel super weird about it.”
He grabbed his worn copy of the Elementia trilogy and rifled through the pages. “Is it for Queen Seeria’s Prophecy? I bet it is. That’s Sevyn and Evyn’s grandmother. She can control water, sort of. She sees the future through it.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s the poem. The song is for the scene where Nolan and Sevyn meet.”
My brother dog-eared a page and handed it to me. “Take this. It’s the best scene.”
I took the book and watched him crawl under the covers. He still felt like my puppy, but he was getting bigger, and I was getting older. And he’d been wrong in the van today. I wasn’t afraid of Dad making me stay home for college. I was scared I would make that choice. That I would stay because of Ryder and then resent him for it.
“Ry, do you…” I paused; it was hard to go back to last night, to the harsh truths we’d exchanged. “Do you honestly feel like Dad and I have a club you’re not part of?”
Ryder was quiet for a few breaths. “You guys never invite me to those concerts or the theater. You leave me with Mom, and she says we’re going to hang out, but as soon as you guys leave, she goes to her room.”
“Dad and I see historical war dramas together, Ryder. It’s not fun. I would skip, but it makes him happy to lecture me on the inaccuracies afterward.” My brother stared like an owl; I’d never considered he might be jealous of an activity I loathed. “It’s not fun or easy to be in Dad’s good graces. At least he doesn’t call you Jaded Ryder.”
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