Rae touched her fingers to the grainy plastic door. “For what it’s worth, I promise I will always assume the flu.”
Jonah came out of the nearest train carriage, startling Rae away from the door. His neck and cheeks were flushed, and he seemed disoriented. Rae waited for him to stop and talk to her, but he didn’t. He stormed into the next carriage over.
What the hell was that? she thought, staring after him.
Just then, the latch clicked on the bathroom door, which slid open. Rae turned and saw Clara sitting on the floor, her skin washed out from crying, the backs of her hands smeared with makeup.
“Jesus.” Rae squeezed inside, locking the door behind her. “Why are you crying?”
Clara rubbed her face into the collar of her shirt. “I k-keep trying to stop, but I can’t.”
Rae kneeled down across from her. There wasn’t much room, so her head was lodged directly beneath the sink. “Is this about the Harry Potter thing?”
Clara shook her head.
“Or about ruining the trip?” Rae asked. “Because, I swear, you didn’t. This isn’t even embarrassing! Junior year I made out with Alicia Green at that party before winter break. Now that was embarrassing.”
Clara’s face clouded over. “Why do you always have to remind me of how many girls you’ve hooked up with?”
Rae felt her mouth open in shock.
“Oh my God.” Clara’s gaze dropped down. “What’s wrong with me? I didn’t mean that. I’m saying stupid things, and I’m crying in a bathroom. And I haven’t even washed my face today!”
“It’s okay,” Rae said, but she was still confused. Since when did Clara get upset over who Rae had kissed?
“It’s not okay.” Clara sniffled. “I’m such a mess right now. I’m disgusting.”
“You’re still Clara,” Rae said. “You’re—the opposite of disgusting.”
Clara glanced up.
The train hitched, and Rae knocked her head on the bottom of the sink, her top teeth cutting into her lower lip.
“Rae!” Clara leaned forward. “Are you all right?”
“Totally fine.” Rae wiped her hand across her mouth to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. “Anyway, forget about me. What’s making you cry?”
“Well,” Clara said, “today. For starters.”
Rae looked around them. “I’ll admit sitting on a bathroom floor isn’t exactly a high point.”
The hint of a smile flashed across Clara’s face. “Everything is just going by so fast,” she said. “We’re already leaving Amsterdam, which means I’m one step closer to California. Which means I have to start school soon. I’ve wanted to design costumes since I was ten years old, but what if I can’t keep up with my classes? What if I’m not as good as I always hoped?”
“But you are. You don’t have to stress about that.”
Clara played with a sequin on her purple ballet flat. “It’s different for you. You’re so fearless.”
Rae looked up at the small window beside them—at a single, shifting rectangle of blue sky, at the tops of trees that were laid against it. “Clara,” she said. “I’m scared, too.”
“But you can’t wait to go to Australia. You looked at a map, and you found the farthest place you could possibly go, and now you’re going there. That’s so brave.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Rae said. “It was more like—I saw this version of myself who would go to Melbourne, and she was the version I wanted to be. She was confident and smart and she was—kind of like my mom, actually. You know, Lucy moved to the States when she was eighteen, even though her family didn’t want her to. I figured if I could convince myself to be like that, maybe leaving wouldn’t suck so much.”
Clara pushed her feet across the floor so the tips of her flats almost touched the tips of Rae’s flip-flops. It reminded Rae of last night—and it made her wonder if maybe Clara did remember what she’d said when they’d sat on that bunk together. And if she did remember, maybe she didn’t regret it. Rae slid her feet forward, too.
“It’s really weird that we’re sitting here, isn’t it?” Clara said.
“Yeah.” Rae laughed. “It really is.”
“I don’t want to go back yet, though.”
“Me neither.” Rae looked down at their legs, at the shadows of passing trees that rushed over them. It was hard to believe that outside, the world was moving as fast as it could. Because in here—for now, at least—they were holding still.
15
Aubrey
Tuesday, July 5
AMSTERDAM to PRAGUE via BERLIN
No one had come back to their compartment yet.
It was just Aubrey.
Aubrey and the numb, gaping hole in the center of her chest.
Aubrey stuck on a train, speeding toward a place she didn’t know. She’d always wanted to go to Prague—in seventh grade, she’d even written a paper on it, complete with a poster board covered in pictures she’d found online. She could list every landmark she wanted to visit. She could close her eyes and see the way they all connected, everything neatly arranged the way it would be on a map.
But that wasn’t the same thing as knowing it.
She put in her earbuds and lay down across the empty seats, watching power lines twist and loop above her, like figure-skater tracks drawn in ice. She listened to a girl with a sweet, high voice sing about saying good-bye to someone she loved. And she thought about what would happen if Jonah came back to talk to her—if he sat down and told her he was sorry. If he told her that everything would be okay.
The door to the compartment opened, and she turned her music down. But it wasn’t Jonah who walked in. Aubrey could hear Rae and Clara talking to each other, and, a few minutes after that, Gabe’s low voice joining in. Aubrey squeezed her eyes shut and thumbed the volume back up until her friends were drowned out completely. She pretended to be asleep.
An hour later, the train began to slow into the Berlin station. As it ground to a stop, Aubrey sat up and pulled out her earbuds.
“Jonah isn’t here,” Clara said instantly.
“We’ve been trying to call him,” Gabe explained, “and I walked around a couple of times, but I couldn’t find him.”
“He’s not hurt,” Rae said. “There would have been an announcement if someone was hurt, right?”
“Exactly!” Clara said. “They would have asked if there was a doctor on board.”
“I thought that only happened on planes?” Rae said.
“Bryce?” Gabe said. “Did he tell you where he went?”
They were all staring at Aubrey, waiting for her to say what had happened. Maybe waiting for her to panic. But she couldn’t do either of those things. She knew he was avoiding her, and she wondered how long he could keep that up. Maybe until they went home. Or maybe he was staying away now so she would have to tell their friends that they’d broken up. Get it over with for him.
“Let’s take his bag,” she said. “I bet he went ahead to the next train.”
They walked to another level of the station, Aubrey’s gaze roaming the walls of glass panels, listening to the German voices around her.
Gabe and Rae found their platform and their seats, and they all piled their stuff onto a luggage rack. The rest of the carriage was still empty.
“Maybe we should look around,” Gabe said. “Jonah could be sitting somewhere else, I guess.”
“Great idea.” Clara smiled encouragingly at Aubrey. “He’s probably trying to find us right now.”
“Okay,” Aubrey said, but her voice sounded flat.
Rae’s forehead scrunched up. She probably wanted to ask Aubrey what was really going on, but Aubrey hoped she didn’t. She couldn’t lie to Rae, but she also couldn’t stand the idea of saying any of this out loud.
“We can go in opposite directions,” Gabe said. “Cover the whole train.”
“I’ll go with you.” Aubrey turned from Rae, following him into the next carriage and touching the top of every seat
they passed. The deserted train made her think of these photographs Rae had shown her once of abandoned amusement parks. Wooden roller coasters with grass growing over them. Swan boats stuck in murky water. Places that should have been full of life left still and silent instead.
“It’s like Snowpiercer,” Gabe said.
“What?” Aubrey asked.
Gabe glanced over his shoulder. “This French comic my dad gave me when I was in middle school. It’s about a train that keeps circling the earth after it’s all frozen over. I think they made it into a movie.”
Aubrey touched another seat. “How is this anything like that?”
“I don’t know. I guess because the characters can’t ever leave the train. That’s almost what this feels like, isn’t it? Like we’re just going from train to train. Like we live here now.”
“Maybe.” Aubrey looked toward the window.
“Bryce.” Gabe stopped walking. “What’s going on? Do you know why Jonah disappeared?”
Aubrey gripped a seat. The lights above them were off, making everything look too dark. Too dark for the middle of the day. Too dark for the middle of a bustling station. “You want to know what the worst part is?” she asked.
He cocked his head. “About Jonah leaving?”
“The worst part,” Aubrey said, ignoring his question, “is that all morning, I was so worried we wouldn’t make this train. But look at us. Look how early we are. I waste so much energy panicking about things that don’t actually happen. And the things that do happen never even occur to me.”
“Sorry,” Gabe said, “explain that again?”
Aubrey blinked down at the scuffed carpet. “JonahandIbrokeup,” she said, like it was all one word. Like she was trying to get it out as quickly as possible.
“Christ.” Gabe pushed his hair away from his forehead. “Are you sure?”
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “I was there, Gabe.”
“But how? When did this even happen?”
“A few hours ago.” Aubrey sat down in the closest seat.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Gabe sat across the aisle from her. “You mean when I left to get a soda? You just—broke up?”
Aubrey nodded. “We had this big dumb fight about Leah.”
“Why? What happened with Leah?”
“Nothing.” Aubrey turned, her knees jutting into the aisle. “That’s the whole point. I spent an entire day with Jonah and Leah, but they barely even noticed I was there. And when I brought it up with Jonah today, he made it pretty clear that’s who he wants to be now. The person he is when he’s with Leah.”
Gabe played with the armrest, pushing it up and then back down. “That just sounds like a fight. Jonah doesn’t really want to break up with you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aubrey said, “because I want to break up with him.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. She didn’t want to be with Jonah anymore. She knew—she’d known for a while now—that something wasn’t right. That all her daydreams about what next year would be like could never be real. That things could never have gone the way she’d always planned.
Gabe’s knees faced hers now. “You seem eerily calm about all this. The last time I broke up with someone, Jonah took me out and we drank five pints of Guinness each. And, Bryce, I do not recommend that at all. But are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“I’m sure,” Aubrey said. And then she burst into tears. She doubled over, catching her face with both hands.
Gabe jumped out of his seat. “Damn. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You didn’t,” Aubrey said through her fingers. “This isn’t because of you.”
And it wasn’t. It was because it felt real now. She and Jonah were done. She was moving to New York all by herself. And she didn’t want that—she’d never wanted that. She’d never wanted her future to feel this blank. She’d never wanted to face it alone.
Gabe knelt in the aisle beside her. “Text him,” he said. “Text him and tell him this whole thing was a big fuckup. Tell him he was dumb about Leah and hungover as hell. Just talk to him.”
“I did.” Aubrey wiped her eyes with her arm. “I—I asked him if he wanted to be part of my life next year. But, Gabe—he didn’t. He couldn’t even pretend.”
Gabe touched her elbow, and just like that, her mind went quiet. And in that quiet, a memory rushed in.
Just over three weeks ago—on a Friday in June, on a night when everything was different—she’d been standing backstage after the closing show of the musical. She’d been crying then, too, holding a bouquet of orange flowers a few underclassmen had given her. She kept trying to brush off the heavy sadness she felt, but she couldn’t. She could only think about how this was the last time she would ever turn off the stage lights, or check to make sure all the props were put away, or even stand backstage. Theater wasn’t her life’s passion or anything, but this was a place where she’d felt like she belonged. And now it was gone for good.
When Gabe had walked past her, he’d rolled his eyes and gone in to hug her. Instead, they’d kissed, Aubrey’s flowers pressed between them. Everything dim as they held themselves together, kissing like it was the only kiss either of them would ever have. Eventually, they broke apart, breathless and confused.
“Aubrey?” Gabe said now, drawing Aubrey out of her memory. He looked at where his fingers still rested on her elbow. “Should we try calling Jo—”
She kissed him. She kissed him, and immediately he kissed her back. Her worries about Jonah sank away. She felt Gabe’s hands move to her sides, and her arms wrap around his neck, tugging his lips closer to hers. And for those few seconds, these were the only things that mattered: his mouth, his skin, his warmth. She disappeared inside of them; she let them swallow her whole.
Until she opened her eyes.
Until she saw Jonah standing in the door of the train, gripping his bag with both hands.
“Jonah,” she said, and her mouth went cold. The rest of her body followed, all of her skin turning to ice.
Jonah shook his head. “I’m going,” he said. “I have to go back.”
“No.” Gabe stepped forward. “Fuck. Please just—wait a second.”
But when Jonah’s eyes met Aubrey’s, she knew it was too late. She watched him jump back onto the platform. She watched him fade into the crowd as the train began to fill with people. They hadn’t left yet, but it didn’t matter. Jonah was already gone—he was a thousand miles away.
16
Rae
Tuesday, July 5
PRAGUE
At the beginning of June, on the night that Aubrey kissed Gabe, Rae could tell something was wrong.
She hadn’t known what exactly—Aubrey hadn’t told her yet—but she could still tell. She was practically psychic when it came to Aubrey.
They’d gone to a cast party at a pub, and after that, Aubrey and Clara had come over to stay at Rae’s house. Clara fell asleep on the couch, watching Lucy’s DVDs of Twin Peaks, but Aubrey and Rae were wide-awake. What’s wrong? Rae mouthed. Aubrey scratched Iorek behind the ears and nodded toward the back door.
It was raining, so they put on coats and Wellies before heading across the lawn toward the tiny guesthouse, where Rae’s mom had her art studio. Rae turned on the Edison bulbs that hung from the ceiling and the lamp on her mom’s drafting table. Aubrey just stood there, water from her coat and boots dripping onto the floor. After the room had been lit up, section by section, Aubrey said, “I kissed Gabe.”
“What?” Rae nearly fell over. “Wait, dude, what? Are you being serious?”
“When am I ever not serious?”
“Okay, okay. I officially need more information. You have to tell me everything.”
Aubrey sat on the ground. “It was right after the play. He kissed me—or maybe I kissed him. I think we both went for it at the same time.”
“Holy fuck!”
“Exactly.” Aubrey looked so depressed. Outside, rain drummed against the windows. The
room was filled with art books and pots of brushes and sketches tacked to the walls. Some of them were of Aubrey and Rae when they were kids, sharing ice-cream bars and sleeping on the couch with Iorek. Rae’s favorite was of the two of them dressed as Sherlock and Watson on Halloween five years ago.
“I have to tell Jonah,” Aubrey said.
“Aubrey,” Rae said, “not to be dramatic or anything, but why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I have to. I cheated on him. I cheated on my boyfriend—I can’t lie about that.”
“It’s only lying if you say good news, Jonah, I never kissed Gabe. What I’m suggesting is you avoid the topic altogether.”
Aubrey pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and crossed her arms. It was officially summer break, and the days were starting to get warm, but the rain had cooled down the air again. “I can’t believe I’m such a skank,” she said.
“Don’t say that,” Rae said. “I hate that word.”
“What else do you call someone who cheats on their boyfriend?”
“I call them a person. A person who got carried away, because graduation is coming up and Gabe is one of your best friends and the two of you have this whole weird history together.”
Aubrey’s eyes filled with alarm. “But I shouldn’t have weird history with my boyfriend’s best friend.”
“Of course you should! Women can have weird history with whoever they want.”
Aubrey shrank further into her coat. “You’re only being nice about this because you care about me. And because you’ve kissed so many people.”
Rae scoffed. “Guys can kiss as many people as they want. Why can’t we? Anyway, kissing is just—faces smashing against each other. It’s the same thing you do with an ice-cream cone. One kiss means nothing, Aubs. Unless… I mean, unless you want it to mean something?”
“No.” Aubrey frowned at the carpeted floor, at the dark spots of water that kept falling from her clothes. “I really don’t.”
Rae didn’t say anything else, although she wanted to; she could tell that Aubrey needed a while to think.
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