I wander among the tables, but nothing really jumps out at me. Vegan society—sorry, can’t give up ice cream, I grew up on the beach, but like rock on with your plant-based selves. Quidditch Club gives me visions of being winded by some overenthusiastic boy who can’t control his broomstick. Trampolining and running are obviously out. I haven’t forgotten the last time I tried to run. Cardiac health is overrated. And is origami really a group activity?

My phone buzzes and I pull it out and shuffle into a clear space to stay out of anyone’s way.

OLIVER QUINN: UNTAMABLE BEAST OF DESIRE

I know we shouldn’t really be hanging out on account of your lesser intellectual status but do you want to get a drink this evening after your visit?

SAOIRSE

Everyone knows Trinity students are pretentious knob ends. What’s it like being returned to the mother ship?

SAOIRSE

Also yes to a drink. I’ll see if Hannah wants to join us after work?

OLIVER QUINN: UNTAMABLE BEAST OF DESIRE

Sure. Can she bring her friend too? The cute one. Whatshername

SAOIRSE

Like you don’t remember her name. Were you too busy making googly eyes at her to catch it?

OLIVER QUINN: UNTAMABLE BEAST OF DESIRE

Whatever. Just make it happen, Clarke.

I gravitate to a colorful table decorated with black and red bunting, thinking how weird it is that I’m hanging out with Hannah and it’s not weird. OK, I mean, it’s a little weird, but it’s getting to a not-weird place and I kind of like it. We’ve even talked about going to visit Izzy in Cork some weekend. I put my hand in a bowl of lollipops, wondering if maybe you have to sign up to get free sweets, and my hand grabs another hand.

“Oh God, sorry,” I say.

“It’s OK.” A girl in a white T-shirt with full red-lipsticked lips and dark hair smiles back at me.

“Roller Derby?” a voice barks, and we both jump. Indeed, the sign behind the voice (which belongs to a girl dressed in shorts, ripped tights, and a tank top) says “Roller Derby: No Balls Required.”

“Er . . .” I look around me as if a portal will suddenly open up and I can escape through it. Roller Derby Girl has an intensely aggressive stare and I don’t think she’ll take Thanks but no thanks as an answer. “To be honest I don’t even know what it is.”

“Yeah, me either,” the girl in the red lipstick says, and I realize she has a Northern accent. Belfast, maybe?

Roller Derby Girl’s eyes light up in a way that makes me think of a witch realizing that some small children are eating her gingerbread house. I regret the lollipop.