We’re all holding our breath. Well, I am, at least. But I can feel the anticipation of my classmates in the air.

“A thousand euros.”

“A thousand euros is a lot of money,” Chaewon says by our lockers at the end of the school day. “Like … can you imagine winning that? You could do a lot with a thousand euros.”

“I could buy all of the video games I want,” Jess says in a half whisper, like an endless supply of video games is her idea of heaven.

“I think I’d put my money in a bank account and use it for when I really needed it, you know,” says Chaewon.

Jess and I sigh simultaneously.

“You have to be a little more creative than that. You have to treat yourself,” I say.

“Yeah, you’re not allowed to be such an adult yet. All this talk of banks and saving,” Jess adds.

“You sound like you’re forty.”

“Maybe even fifty.”

“Saving up is important,” Chaewon mumbles.

“Okay, but these are our fantasies, Chaewon. And fantasies can be anything you want them to be.”

“I guess, if I was being wild,” Chaewon begins thoughtfully.

“Really wild.” I nod encouragingly.

“Like, really, really wild,” Jess adds.

“… I would go on a holiday, maybe,” Chaewon says. “I mean, I’d want to go back to Korea. To visit, you know. But with a thousand euros … I’m not sure if that would be possible.”

“You could go on a holiday to somewhere in Europe,” Jess chirps happily, somehow unaware that a trip to Korea would be far more than a holiday. Even though Chaewon and Jess are best friends who keep no secrets from each other, Chaewon catches my eye this time. Like this is a secret we’re sharing that Jess has no inkling of. It’s only a moment.

Then Chaewon chuckles and says, “Yes, and I could bring the both of you, obviously.”

“That would be the best holiday,” Jess agrees

I’m thinking about how one grand would barely be enough for a trip to Bangladesh, too.

Priti has after-school study, which Ammu and Abbu cajoled her into doing, even though she doesn’t really need it. She studies enough at home.

But it means I get to wait at the bus stop all by myself The bright orange letters of the real-time screen announce ten minutes, eleven, then back to ten again in the space of just a few seconds. Dublin bus is as unreliable as ever.

“Where’s your sister?”

Flávia’s voice has the usual effect on me—it sends my heart into a rhythm that shouldn’t be humanly possible. What is she doing here?

If she’s at the bus stop, she’s probably also waiting for a bus home.

She slides onto the bench next to me, a question pasted onto her expression.

Right.

She asked me a question.