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her. She said he’s some kind of Protestant and he’s interested in Orthod oxy.”
    Andreas frowned. “Okay, hold on. Write, What does he think about ic ons? ”
    “ Huh?”
    “Yeah, do it,” said Steve. “I-c-o- n-s.”
    So I did.
    “Write, Will he fast with you? ” said K osta.
    I’d already dug myself deep. I went ahead and texted that, too.
    Irina’s text came back half a second later. Who are you? Where’s Gabe?
    Steve laughed. “That’s good, man. Now leave it. Make her curi ous.”
    I smiled and put my phone back in my pocket. “Tha nks.”
    “Stefanos Val las!”
    We all whipped around. A big lady was marching toward us. She had a flowered head scarf and thick glasses. “Break up the party! We need the prosph ora!”
    “Mama, calm down, I’m coming.” Steve quickly started toward her.
    “Konstantinos, you, too!”
    “Sorry, Mrs. Vallas. I’ll be right there.” Kosta dug in his pocket and handed me a business card. “Come see us at Helios sometime. We do after-hours, too.”
    I smiled and stuck the card in my back pocket. “Cool, man. Maybe I will.” Then I headed for the parking lot. Mrs. Vallas was carrying a purse, and I was a fast lea rner.

    Irina sounded really suspicious. “Okay, I just want to know one thing. Is the only reason you went to church because you’re worried about Mi cah?”
    I sighed and tipped my head against the wall. The answer was yes . But suddenly the line Steve gave me earlier— Because I love you —popped into my head. “No,” I said. “Not the only reason. I already told you why over t ext.”
    There was a silence. “Well, what did you th ink?”
    “I liked it. It was relax ing.”
    “Relax ing?”
    I knew she wanted more—I could feel it. But this was serious, not something to gloss. I mean, I’d been in the place for twenty minutes. Not long enough to get much of an impression. And her question had another question inside it, an unspoken one: Are you open to my religion? I didn’t know what I thought about that yet. “It was pretty. I liked the singing.” That was true.
    “That’s cool.” Irina’s voice was softer. “So who texted that stuff about icons and fast ing?”
    I laughed. “Oh, these Greek guys. I told them about Micah and they knew he was hitting on you.”
    “Will you stop saying t hat?”
    “Just promise you’ll kick him in the nuts if he tries anyth ing.”
    Irina cracked up on the other end.
    I decided it was time for a romantic move. “I already have enough tips to buy you a ticket. I’ve been looking on Orbitz, and I think I found some good o nes.”
    “Alre ady?”
    “Yeah. I was thinking the first weekend after New Year’s. Is that too s oon?”
    Irina made a little Russian sound, an approving sound. “Definitely not. Like Friday night to Sunday ni ght?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Can I pull the trig ger?”
    “Yes,” she said. I could hear the excitement in her voice. We were both quiet for a minute. I couldn’t stop smiling. Then she asked, “So, did you check out the website I sent you?”
    The happy feeling melted away. “Irina, come on, I told you it’s not dysle xia.”
    “Well, did you?”
    “No,” I admitted. She’d sent me a link to the American Dyslexia Association. I didn’t even click on it. It spooked me to think I could get a label like that.
    “Why are you being so weird about this? There’s a quiz on the homepage that tells if you’re dyslexic. Just ten yes or no questions. It would take you, like, five minu tes.”
    “Why?” I said. “What difference would it make?” I knew she was disappointed that I’d dropped out of school. And this labeling thing was part of a master plan to get me back in t here.
    “It would explain a lot!”
    “Like why I’m stu pid?”
    Irina almost never raised her voice, but she did now. “No! Leonardo da Vinci had dyslexia! So did Thomas Edison! And Einstein !So it doesn’t mean you’re stupid! But you’re so stubborn, I’m starting to think you