Tuesday, July 5

AMSTERDAM to PRAGUE via BERLIN

Rae sat across from the bathroom door, waiting for Clara. She’d knocked a few times, but Clara kept insisting she was fine. Even though she clearly wasn’t.

Rae folded her legs on the gray-striped carpet and leaned back against the wall, the train grumbling in her ears. In the almost silence, the only thing she could think about was last night—about sitting in the hostel room with Clara, about the cool sheets beneath them, and Clara shifting toward her. But this time Aubrey didn’t walk in on them. This time Clara’s knee brushed Rae’s thigh; her breath was warm on Rae’s mouth.

A guy knocked on the bathroom door, snapping Rae out of it. “Hey,” she snarled. “Can’t you see it’s occupied?”

He frowned at her before walking away. And as he did, Rae told herself a different story: Last night Clara had been drunk. The truth was, she might not even remember what had happened.

Rae scratched at the shaved patch in the back of her hair. She tried to focus on Australia—on limestone cliffs and blue stretches of ocean and Melbourne alleyways brimming with thrift stores. Come on, Rae, she thought. Focus on the future.

“Rae,” Clara’s voice whispered from the other side of the door.

“Yeah?” Rae moved forward.

“Is Aubrey there with you?”

Clara’s voice was almost too quiet for Rae to hear. “No,” she said. “It’s just me.”

“Is she not there because she’s mad at me?”

“Why would Aubrey be mad at you?”

“Because I’m hungover,” Clara said. “Because I’m totally ruining her perfect trip.”

“It’s not her trip. And you’re not ruining anything. Jonah’s hungover, too.”

“But you’re not,” Clara said miserably. “You never are.”

“Dude, I definitely am,” Rae said. “And remember Aubrey’s eighteenth birthday? When that gallery owner gave my mom those free bottles of wine and we snuck some into my room?”

“Oh yeah,” Clara said.

“And remember the next day? When Aubrey’s parents took us on the Harry Potter studio tour, and they thought I had the flu. They even tried to call a doctor.”

Clara giggled a little. “I can’t believe they didn’t figure it out.”

“They rarely do.” Rae picked at a thread in the carpet. “Having Aubrey for a daughter makes them think all teenagers are responsible.”

Clara didn’t respond for a moment, and Rae worried she’d said the wrong thing.

“No one thinks that about me,” Clara said eventually. “Everyone knows I’m the dumb, ditzy party girl with a super-weird wardrobe.”

“Clara,” Rae said. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it is. If I were sick on a Harry Potter tour, no one would assume I had the flu.”

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.