Finn made a gurgling noise from his throat that didn’t sound exactly like choking, but then again, I’d never seen anyone being poisoned before. I was standing over him, ready to do CPR, when I noticed that he wasn’t choking; he was laughing.

Oui—I mean sí—I mean yes. I’m Meghan.” I was suddenly aware that I was still in the clothes I’d worn on the plane. I was tired, had frizzy bedhead, and my breath smelled like—what would be a good word for it? I know—YUCK!

If you imagine a castle as bright and sparkly with glass slippers, singing mice, and servants with white gloves, this was the opposite.

It was the woman I’d been certain had been planning to bake me in her oven but instead, had rescued us with a tractor.

We sat at a mahogany table that had enough nicks and dents to be an English muffin. I wondered for a sec if the Irish called them English muffins or something else.

Finn said to Shannon, “It’s our hearse. They’re planning to take you in our hearse.”“What’s a hearse?” Piper asked.

I looked at the soda bread and the cottage. It all felt very grandmotherly, once you got past the “Hansel and Gretel” thing.

Is everyone okay?” Mr. Leary asked. Everyone nodded, except Gene, who wept.“Are you hurt?” Mr. Leary asked him.“No,” he cried. “I’m still hungry.