"S... sorry", I finally sigh.

"What for? You have every right to cry, it's a rotten situation."

I wipe my face with my sleeve. "But you don't even have parents. I have them both and still complain."

Through my watery vision I can see he's smiling.

"If I still had my parents, I would probably have something about them to complain about. And if you didn't have any, you were still allowed to laugh. It is what it is."

I nod and focus on his chest until my sight is clearer, then I ask: "Why is there a gun on your shirt with 'I know'?"

He expression becomes curious, he looks down and then his eyes widen. "Han Solo? Star Wars?" The words are spoken as if I should know what they mean, but they're gibberish to me.

"Don't tell me you've never seen Star Wars?"

"Is that the series about those big spaceships?"

"Ehm... no, that is Star Trek. Right, next time you go to the library, pick up a Star Wars book."

Wouldn't it be nice to be able to just sit next to him and watch the film. I'm not a big fan of Science Fiction – although that book I read was pretty awesome – but with him I would watch anything. Something pops into my brain and I ask, taking a step back, because I'm still almost pressed against him: "Didn't you once say you've never read Sci-fi?"

The smile on his face gets replaced by a guilty expression. He too takes a step back and clasping his hands behind his back he clears his throat and says: "Yeah, I've been meaning to explain. Apologize, I mean. When I first met you, I thought it was easier to make you believe I was part of the book. I didn't expect you to come back, so I didn't see the harm in it. Sorry about that."

"Oh well", I wave his apology away. How many white lies have I told since I discovered I could walk in books?

That brings me to the next subject. There is a window in the wall of logs besides me and looking out, I say: "I'm thinking about telling my friend what I can do. Right now I have to keep coming up with excuses and she already thinks how we met is scarcely credible. I think I owe it to her to tell the truth."

"You told Isla about me?"

Shyly I look up at him, that careful smile is back. I like how he remembered Isla's name.

"Yeah, I ... I was so glad you e-mailed I showed it to her and that might not have been the best idea."

In the distance the sun begins to shine and a little while later the rain stops. The characters from the books might be frozen when we don't walk along, nature apparently keeps doing it's thing. Although I doubt it will become night if we just stay in this moment.

We're on a mountain, surrounded by more mountains.

"Wow, this is incredible", I whisper.

I feel more than I see how Sorley comes to stand next to me. Together we look out over the green meadow and the waving branches in the distance.

"Is this what it looks like where you live?" I ask, still speaking softly. Somehow the world around us compels me to be reverent.

In the same tone, he answers: "Different, less green. And I don't live this high up."

"Shall we go outside?" I take a step towards the door, but Sorley quickly grabs my wrist.

"I wouldn't if I were you."

My eyes widen. I didn't step into a horror story unaware, did I? "Why not?" I squeak.

Sorley lets me go and says, a little uneasy: "He's a hunter. I'm not sure how well your stomach can handle carcasses?"

Immediately I jump away from the door. "What? Why the heck did you pick a book like that?"

"Because of the quiet and the view. I can try to further the story? He's gonna load his stuff on a wagon and drive it to the market. Shall I come get you when he's gone?"

"Please", my head resembles one of those car puppets, that's how fast I nod.

While Sorley takes care the man with his meat, bones and who knows what other creepy things, goes away, I walk around in the log cabin. It really is a single man's housekeeping. Piled cans of beans and vegetables stand on shelves above a sink that's anything but clean. Animal skins that are nothing like the soft fake Ikea-furs, lie on what is probably meant to be the bed. I hope Sorley hurries, it's beginning to feel eerie in here.

Without my cellphone, watch or clock I have no idea how much time goes by. My scouting knowledge is so minimal I don't even know how to make a good knot. Let alone read time by the position of the sun. Oh, never mind, the sun is gone again. That dark cloud looks like – yes, see, it's already raining.

When the door suddenly swings open, it scares the heck out of me, but it's only Sorley. He is soaking wet and shakes his head like a dog so that water droplets fly around me. I can't protest, because my tongue dries up when I see how his shirt clings to his chest.

"I forgot about that", I hear him mumble. "Bad weather on the road. We can better pick a different book."

No, nope, not at all. This weather is fine. I think my mind is temporarily disabled.

His hands grab the edges of his shirt, but right before he can pull it all the way over his head, he catches my look. I'm not entirely sure, because there's so much blood rushing though my head my vision might be impaired, but I think his face get a bit more red.

There's a lump in my throat. Luckily I only have to swallow some ten times before it's gone. About the same time the piece of skin disappears that was visible, now that he lowers his shirt again. Would those muscles be real, or does the book do that? He has a six-pack. I've been kissed by a boy with a real six-pack. Now my head is on fire as well.

Sorley folds his hands behind his head and mutters: "Good thing you can't catch a cold in here."

The rain showers in the mountains are short but heavy and when a ray of sunshine pierces the window, he points his thumb backwards. I nod, still not quite able to form a coherent sentence. I'm falling in love with him. And that is so inconvenient. Because he lives in America and I don't.

It takes some time before we return to our comfortable selves and are able to resume out conversation. Sorley is the first one to say something. "So, you're going to tell Isla?"

Oh yeah, that was the topic.

"I think so. I don't want to have to lie to her all the time. Even though she won't believe me."

"She's your best friend, isn't she?"

I nod.

"Then she'll believe you."

He's probably right. Isla is crazy enough.

"Tell me about your friends. Or classmates, what ever you like."

Releasing the tension, now that we've returned to familiar territory, I tell him about the boys and girls in my class.

"I met Isla in the first class, seventh grade you call it, I believe. During one of those getting to know-things in the city. Our bags were next to each other and she accidentally put her phone in mine. We agreed to meet in the park to give it back and we've been friends ever since. She's in vwo and I'm in havo. Vwo is a level up", I add as explanation.

"I usually hang with her group of friends, although I don't like all of them." I sum up the names of a few others I consider friends and then ask: "What about you?"

His answer is a bit too airy when he answers: "No school, no class, so no group of friends. My cousins drop by every now and then. They live in Boulder as well."

"Don't you have any friends at all?" I ask disbelieving. I think about what he said about Michael, about him being his best friend. Does he have a fear of commitment?

Sorley merely shrugs.

"Well", I swallow and try to keep the trembling out of my voice. "Now you have one."

I keep my eyes firmly focused on the trees ahead, because I don't dare to look at him. I feel his fingers slide over my hand where they lean on the grass and I shiver.

"I'm glad", he whispers near my ear, before pressing a small kiss against my cheek.

"Shall I come over?" I then blurt out. "To see you, I mean."

I wait for him to burst out laughing or make a joke, but there's only silence. When I look around I see something in his face I'd rather not have seen. Doesn't he want me there? Doubts begin to puncture my happy bubble from all sides.

Because I don't want to hear his answer, I quickly cover up my remark by saying: "I wish we lived closer by. And this isn't helping either." I point at my leg.

A glance his way shows him relaxing again, now that I apparently let go of my crazy idea.

"Isla and me had planned to go travelling this summer. Not too far away, just take the train to Switzerland, France, Germany. Now we have to make do with terraces in Holland. It'll be fun, but I'd rather go a little further away."

While I babble away to make the tension dissipate, I make plans to find out what I need to go to America, as soon as I get home. Whether he wants me to or not, I'm going to Boulder. He can send me back all he likes, but at least I will have seen him in real life. I'll know this isn't a dream. Because I need to know. Before my heart fall any deeper.

---

I don't bring the subject about a visit up again and between the showers, we investigate the mountain's wildlife. We easily chat about school subjects, like differences in classes and teachers. We avoid the subject of friends as well and a little more than usual we fall silent. He isn't completely himself yet, as if he fears a new topic for which he has to hide something. Because I recognized that expression. it's the same one I have on my face when I'm with my mother and Isla lately. However I hadn't expected it on Sorley. What does he have to hide? What is he afraid off?

I'm also sorry he doesn't touch me any more. As easy as he pressed a kiss on my cheek earlier, so uncomfortable he now keeps his hands on his back when we say goodbye.

I give a cheerful smile, because I don't want him to think I've had enough of it. On the contrary.

We sit down on the chairs in the cabin, before we get out of the book. Sorley says it's better for my leg. He's so sweet.

Back home I pull my laptop on my lap right away. Do I need a passport? How about a visa? And am I allowed to fly on my own at sixteen?

Little under an hour later, I have all my answers and true to my headlong self, I make an appointment at City Hall and request an ESTA. Luckily my age isn't a problem, although I might have to forge a note from my mother.

I have weeks to go until the seminary. Weeks of time to plan everything to perfection. And I'm going to tell Isla. I have to. It's long overdue for me to stop lying to my best friend.

---

Sorley texts the next day that he has to go with his grandma, visiting relatives for a few days, so he can't read for now. Three times I start typing a reply, only to delete the whole thing and begin again. Maybe he's staring at his screen right now, wondering why he sees me typing without getting anything. Finally I text: Have fun! I'll be here, eagerly awaiting your return.

I receive a grinning emoji and a kissing one, so I spend the next five minutes gazing at the screen with a goofy smile.

Because I suddenly have far too much time on my hands, and I don't feel like walking in books on my own any more, I call Isla. "Is there anything fun to do out there?"

After school, they pick me up in her boyfriends car. I get shotgun, because that's the only place with room enough for my leg and the crutches. We drive over to Egmond and have to circle the parking lots three times before someone drives off and makes room for us. The beach is out of the question for me, so we dive onto a terrace on the boulevard.

"It feels like summer", Isla shouts, arms open wide.

"It is summer, dork", I grin, while Bram, Isla's boyfriend, gets the drinks. As soon as he is out of hearing range, I bend over to Isla and say: "Can you come over tonight? I have something to tell you, but nobody else can know."

At once Isla's expression changes into that of an overenthusiastic master spy. "Ooh, is it about Sóórléé?"

She pronounces his name extremely gushy, so I whack her on her arm. "It's just Sorley and among other things, yes."

"It's really too bad you couldn't have chosen someone a little closer by. Than we could go out together. Now I'm stuck with Britt for double dates, because Emiel is Bram's best friend."

I feel for her.

We enjoy the sun and the bustle around us and before dinner Bram delivers us at my place.

"I'll borrow your bike when I go home. You won't need it for the time being", Isla answers when I ask her how she'll get home. Yeah, that's for sure. I don't see myself riding a bike with this lump of plaster.

My mother isn't home yet and together we get busy making dinner. Lasagne from a box this time. No fuss. When the dish is in the oven and we await the beep from the living room, Isla eagerly asks: "Well, what is it you want to tell me? You haven't done it yet, because that's impossible with an ocean in between. Or did he fly over real quick?"

I stick out my tongue. "Your mind is really twisted. No", I take a deep breath and continue: "I have to tell you something and you won't believe me, but you have to trust I would never lie to you, alright? Okay, not about something this important. I did lie a little bit the past weeks, but you'll understand in a moment and then you'll forgive me right away."

Isla purses her lips. "You don't have a boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, I never said that."

"But you do like him. Do you actually have a picture of him?"

While I pull out my phone, I ask: "Are you going to continue interrupting me? Cause than it'll take a long time for me to finish."

She grins guiltily and grabs my phone out of my hands when I turn the screen that has Sorley's photo to her.

"Ooh, he's hot. How old is he?"

"Nineteen. And he has a six-pack." The words leave my mouth before I realise it and for a moment we're in a fit of giggles.

Then Isla asks: "Hey, how do you know that? Did you play strip-poker in a Skype session or something?"

Half laughing, I shake my head, now it gets complicated.

"Isla ... you know I never read books before, right? Until recently, that is. That was because I eh... I disappear, in the book, when I read. Not when there's anybody nearby, so I can't show you and that's too bad, because then you would believe me right away. But I can go into a book. Just like Alice in Wonderland and I experience the story for real. It's called paper walking. Remember the little booklet I found in the library? It's all in there, You can read it if you like."

I hold my breath and force my lips together, because Isla looks as if her face is about to rupture.

"Eh, Isla ... say something." I poke in her cheek when she seems frozen for a minute.

"You mean, something other than ha ha?"

I release my breath with a loud pfff. "You don't believe me. He said you would, cause you're my best friend."

"Who, Sorley?"

"Yeah, he can do it too. That's how I met him."

"He's in a book?"

"No, not any more. It's complicated, I don't understand everything myself. He is real!" I quickly add, when I see her sceptic face. "You saw the photo. You can't take a picture of something inside a book, then you'll just get white pages with letters, see." I press the photo of the attic room against her nose.

She eyes it two seconds and then pushes the phone aside.

"Please, Isla, you have to believe me, because I don't want to keep having to make up excuses."

Her face thaws a little, but she still sounds a bit stiff when she says: "I want to believe you, but, come on Zara, you have to admit it sounds as if you've gone mad. Especially when you start comparing yourself to Alice in Wonderland."

"Okay, that might have been a wrong example."

We remain silent for a while. I decide not to say any more until Isla does.

"How long do you know- how long have you been doing, what did you call it?"

"Paper walking. When I knew how to read. The first time was in a book I got for my sixth birthday. Then I lost my stuffed animal. Because you can't take people or living animals with you, but you can take things. Oh, that's what we can do. I can prove to you I can do it, because I can take something from a book."