(It would turn brown again if she stayed here long enough, if she stayed dry. Eleanor had met other children who had traveled through Cora’s door, and she knew, although she would never tell Cora, that on the day when the green and blue began to fade—whether that happened tomorrow or in a year—that would be when the door would be locked forever, and Cora would be shipwrecked forever on this now-foreign shore.)

“Everyone’s been really nice,” she said. “Kade says he knows where my world falls on the compass, and he’s going to help me research other people who have gone there. Um, and Angela introduced me to all the other girls, and a few of them went to water worlds too, so we have lots to talk about.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Eleanor, and meant it. “If there’s anything you need, you’ll let me know, won’t you? I want all my students to be happy.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Cora, the brightness fading. She bit her lip as she tucked her phone into her pocket, and said, “I have to go. Um, Nadya and I are going to the pond.”

“Remind her to take a jacket, please. She gets cold easily.” Eleanor stepped to the side, letting Cora hurry away. She couldn’t keep up with the students anymore, and she supposed that was a good thing; the sooner she wore out, the sooner she could go home.

But oh, she was tired of getting old.

*   *   *

CORA HURRIED DOWN the stairs, shoulders hunched slightly inward, waiting for a sneer or insult that never came. In the six weeks since she had arrived at the school, no one had called her “fat” like it was another word for “monster,” not even once. Kade, who served as the unofficial tailor and had a selection of clothing left behind by departing students that stretched back decades, had looked her up and down and said a number that had made her want to die a little bit inside, until she’d realized there was no judgement in his tone: he just wanted her clothes to fit.

The other students teased and fought and called each other names, but those names were always about things they’d done or places they’d gone, not about who they were. Nadya was missing her right arm at the elbow, and no one called her “gimp” or “cripple” or any of the other things Cora knew she would have been called if she’d gone to Cora’s old school. It was like they had all learned to be a little kinder, or at least a little more careful about what they based their judgements on.