The closer it gets to summer vacation, the busier I get with school and the less time I have to dive into a book. The weather is usually so nice we stay out late on the beach and when I get home, all I want to do is sleep.

When there are only two weeks to go and I check my inbox with my sleepy head, my eye catches an e-mail from a S.P. Connor. At once I'm wide awake.

Hij mailed back. Finally. I had almost given up hope. Even though I have to go the the bathroom pretty bad, I click on the mail and devour the words.

Hi Zara,

Sorry it took so long. You're right, I could have just given you my e-mail, but then I wouldn't have a letter with nice Dutch stamps on it.

I grin and read on.

I too began this e-mail again about a hundred times, especially because I wasn't sure if you wanted to get to know me after our goodbye. Do I have to apologize? If I did anything you didn't want, then sorry. Maybe you have a boyfriend and I seriously crossed a line.

Aw, that's so sweet. I bite my lip and smack myself.

If not, and you still want to know me, I meant it what I wrote in my short note. I am gonna miss you. I don't meet many beautiful girls and especially not in real life.

What I also want to tell you, should you decide you don't want anything to do with me any more, please don't feel guilty about me having to leave 'Brotherhood'. I tend to hide from reality. All you did was do me a favour.

So, mail me back, if you like.

Sincerely yours,

Sorley

I run for the loo and read the mail again in there. Then I slowly walk down the stairs, reading, and by the time I finish my bowl of muesli, I practically memorized the words.

Every time I read the words 'beautiful girls', I let out a deep sigh. It's a good thing my mum left early today.

---

Isla, he e-mailed me, I text before I ride to school.

At our usual spot I wait for her and not much later we are screaming and jumping around like idiots. Before I think about it, I let her read the lines.

"Hey? What does he mean by that last part?"

Oh shoot. "Eh... that was a game. He was kind of addicted to it and I caused it to ... crash, so he ... lost everything."

"But you didn't really meet him in real life, right?"

"No", I shake my head wildly, happy she accepts my explanation. "Online, it's all online." It doesn't feel right that I'm still lying to her. She's my best friend, isn't it about time I tell her the truth?

"And what did he do that he must be sorry about? Did you swap dirty pictures, or something?"

"Ew, no, Isla, what are you thinking? Don't be so ridicules." My face contorts and I yell again: "Ew."

Isla laughs at me. "Really, I was only joking, don't be such a baby. But, what was it?"

It was a mistake, letting her read the letter. How am I supposed to get out of this?

I get saved by the bell and I shout, before we each go our separate ways: "I'll tell you in our brake."

That gives me at least two hour to come up with something.

---

I get a lot more time than that, but not because she forgets. I'd have rather told her the truth a million times than end up in the situation I'm in now.

The second period today was PE and I'm not particularly clumsy, but today I was distracted. I usually enjoy jumping on the trampoline. I was one of those kids you could leave for hours of fun on a bouncing castle. But after the trampoline came a vault and that's where it went wrong. I tripped, my foot got stuck and instead of landing neatly on the mattress, I fell and now they think my leg is broken. I want to cry.

An ambulance picks me up from school. So embarrassing. And it hurts like hell. During the ride to the hospital I text Isla, who will inform the rest and tells me she'll drop off my stuff at my house. I am so glad I decided to put my phone in my PE bag. I only don't have my house keys. Why does this always has to happen in PE, when you walk around in a goofy outfit and everyone sees you in your shorts and T-shirt?

I have to wait to get an X-ray of my leg. I might as well call my mother, or else it'll freak her out. Or would school have already done that? She isn't usually so easy to reach. Would they call my father? They probably don't have is number. Knowing my mother, she never gave it to them.

I reach her voicemail and say: "Mum, it's me, don't freak out, but I'm in the hospital. I probably broke my leg. I'm waiting for an X-ray. They will bring me home, I think, don't know actually. Or else I'll get a taxi. Isla is bringing my stuff. You don't have to come. Bye."

I'm done just before the beep.

So there I am, all by myself, because I'm old enough and there wasn't a teacher available to come with me on such short notice. They didn't have to on my account. I twirl my phone, activate it again and open my mail-app. Sorley's e-mail is still open and I press reply.

Hey Sorley,

I had planned to return a very intellectual reply. One I thought about very carefully, so it would be perfect. But I just broke my leg and am now waiting in the hospital, so this is a weird e-mail, but I'm bored.

You're probably asleep, so I'll talk to you later.

Zara.

My leg is killing me and when finally a volunteer pushes my wheelchair, where they put me in when I arrived, into the X-ray department, I long for a hammer to knock me out. Or for a sedative. Thankfully I get one of those and I can breath a little more relaxed. After the scan, the doctor tells me I have a conservative breach. Which is apparently good news. I don't need surgery and can even keep walking after I get a cast. The fracture is in the tibia ... I'll google that at home.

In First Aid I get an enormous lump of plaster around my leg, luckily not over my knee. I can even pick a colour. Purple it is.

And then I'm in my wheelchair, next to the exit, waiting for a taxi. I texted Isla I'll be right home and she got leave to bring my stuff over, or else I won't get in the house. The pain has receded a lot, but for the time being I'm going to need crutches to get to places. Would I be allowed to skip the last few weeks of school? Six weeks. That is how long I need to be in the cast. Maybe even eight weeks. And probably revalidation after that. There goes summer vacation.

The taxi driver helps me into the car and drops me off at the front door. There Isla is waiting with a very concerned look on her face. She opens the door for me and I lean on her when I wobble to the living room.

I get a little stool for my leg and a glass of water and all of a sudden there are tears in my eyes. I don't know why, must be the shock. Isla doesn't say a thing and lets me have at it. I'm glad I have her with me and not my mother. She would probably say not to whine. That I shouldn't have been so stupid and that she can't go to her seminar now, because there's no way I can stay home alone like this. The idea that I'll be cooped up with my dreary mother, only makes me cry even more.

"Shoot", I finally snivel. I toss in a few Japanese curses we learned a year ago just for the fun of it.

Beside me Isla chuckles. I'm grateful she doesn't sum up all the advantages, I'm not in the mood.

Together we find out how to get crutches and I call school, because my mum hasn't responded yet. I can't call myself in sick, so my mother has to take care of the bureaucratic stuff with the director tomorrow.

"That's the end of our outings", I sadly remark and Isla copies my expression.

"I can push you in a wheelchair, no problem. Or we'll just go sit on terraces, my dad will drive us when he's free."

Isla's dad is the best.

"Hey, maybe I can come and stay over at your place for a while. That way I don't have to look at my mother's depressing face all the time. She doesn't want to miss that seminar and according to her I probably can't stay home alone like this."

All of a sudden we're in high spirits. Especially when Isla suggests: "Or ... I come stay with you."

"Yeah", I shout. That brightens my day.

A sound from my phone tells me I have an e-mail. I pick it up, unlock it and smile even wider. Sorley.

It's one thirty PM over here, so five thirty in the morning over there. He's up early.

You broke your leg? That's shitty, how did you manage that?

Hey, do you have any English books at home? Let me know, I want to show you something.

YT, Sorly

I turn off my phone before Isla comes back with our lunch boxes and sits down next to me. Until I decide how to share my secret with her, I won't mention Sorley again.

While I'm chewing, I crack my head trying to decipher his question. English books, do we even own them? In an attempt to see what's in our modest book case, I almost strain my neck.

"What you're doing?" Isla asks.

"Can you see if my mum has any English books in there?"

"What do you need those for?" She gets up and follows the spines with her finger. "Jane Austen's Collection, that sounds English."

Jane Austen, that's really a girls thing, would Sorley have that? "Any more?" I ask just in case. Unfortunately, this is the only one. I can ask if she would go to the library for me, but that's a possibility for later. First, lets find out what Sorley's planning.

I make up a vague reason about needing the book for English class – she's a level up, so what does she know about what we do in class – and distract her with questions about what happened after I was brought to the hospital with flashing lights. We keep talking until my mother gets home and then she quickly says goodbye.

---

As expected, my mother breaks out in hives when she discovers me. I get buried under comments about the inconvenience and how dumb I was. She only stops when I ensure her she is still able to go to the seminar because Isla will come over and dad can take me back and forth. Then there's even a little room for some words of concern, however I think somehow my mum got rid of the whole caring parent routine after my dad left and her daughter's phobia wasn't curable.

Because walking up and down stairs is out of the question for the time being, I move into the guest room next to the kitchen. Our house is so accommodating. Grumbling, my mother brings down everything I need for the next few weeks and then she leaves me alone.

I look around with a sigh. This room is boring, with a floral motive on the walls and a painting of some chicken above the bed. Who ever put that there? Arduously I get up and pull the hideous thing from the wall. The canvas tares where it hits the nail, so I pray it wasn't worth much. I drop it on the floor and kick it under the bed with my good foot. Begone with it. After that I grab my phone and mail Sorley I only have Jane Austen.

Texting is faster. Would he want to text me? I send an other e-mail with my phone number and yea, not long after he texts: Wasn't sure you wanted to give it, thanks. Jane Austen is fine, doesn't really matter which one. Do you have it there with you?

No, how stupid. Oh well, the doctor told me I had to keep using my leg anyway. Moderately, of course, but I don't have to remain still completely. So I carefully stand up again and take a step. And another. Then I grab the door frame and pull myself out of the room. Step by step, not entirely painless, I walk to the living room.

When my mother sees me, she asks: "Are you allowed to walk? What is it? You can just call me, you know."

I shrug and answer: "The doctor says it's okay. You'll get crutches tomorrow, right? That'll make it easier. I just needed a book. For school", I hurriedly add. Her eyebrows are already rising. Will she ever get used to the fact that I love books from now on?

With the thick volume secure under my arm, I shuffle back to my new shack. I can't lock this door, that's too bad. I run the risk of getting tossed out of the book. At least, I take it Sorley plans to tell me something about paper walking, for which I need the book.

I make myself comfortable on the bed, with my pillow behind my back and then I text: I got it, now what?

He responds immediately. Start to read in precisely 3 minutes in P&P. See if it works.

My cellphone says it's exactly seven o'clock in three minutes. I locate 'Pride and Prejudice' - I think that's what he means – count the seconds and when 19:00 appears, I glance at the first words.

I've seen the film and the mini-series, so I kind of know what to expect. I enter in the middle of the conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and chuckle about her florid enthusiasm. It's not until I look around that my mouth falls open wide.

There, as if he was always there, in a chair next to Mr. Bennet, is Sorley. He has a huge grin on his face and raises his hand.

There's no sound coming from my throat and my mouth is still open. Mr. Bennet leaves the room and his wife follows, leaving us behind and only then I can convince my jaws that my mouth has to close.

"W... what are you doing here? How is this possible?"

He gets up and crosses the distance between us with his hands behind his back. He smiles and says: "I wasn't sure if it would work, but after we met I began to wonder if it would be possible. It had to be the same book of course, in the same language. Maybe even the same edition, in that case we're just lucky. Move your legs."

He taps my knee and I'm about to tell him that's difficult with a broken leg, when my eye catches his hand. Or rather, the black-and-blue mark beneath his finger. Right above the cast you can see a bruise, that is, you could see.

The bruise, it's gone.

My legs are on the sofa, one wearing a sock and one in plaster. Oh shoot, am I still wearing my stupid gym-outfit? I shut my eyes in shame, I must look ridiculous.

However the missing bruise quickly grabs my attention back and biting my lip, I try to move my leg. It works, without pain. My jaw drops to the floor again.

"How ... how?"

"I found out, a few years ago. Look at your hand, I could have told you sooner, but it didn't come up."

I do what he says, still overwhelmed.

"Other hand, silly."

He moves my legs aside and sits next to me. The cast is still heavy and falls to the ground with a boink, but there is absolutely no pain.

With confusion I look at him and raise my other hand. The one with the scar. That isn't there any more.

"Wow."

He takes my hand in his and rubs over the now undamaged palm. It gives me goosebumps.

"It confused me you could get hurt, but that was because of the knife. However when you got out of the book and came back in it, the injury wasn't of the book any more and vanished. Apparently that's part of the magic of paper walking."

It's hard to focus on his words, when he's holding my hand like that.

"You wore bandages and that goes with you in the book, just like your cast and clothing." He eyes me and one corner of his mouth pulls up.

My face catches fire.

I want to ask him how he discovered this, but my mouth is so dry I can't make a sound. He must have guessed my thoughts, because he explains: I hurt my back, in the accident with my parents, but inside a book I could – nothing hurt."

The altered tone in his voice brings me to my senses and slowly I digest the consequences of this newly discovered freedom. Not only can I see Sorley whenever he and I want, but I can also walk around, without pain and trouble. Tears appear in my eyes and I quickly retrieve my hand to wipe them dry.

This is going to be the best summer ever.