I recognize the exact moment I turn invisible.

I recognize it, because the little girl, Qiqi, happens to be looking in my direction, and her eyes go rounder than her doll’s. She brings a small hand to her opened mouth, then frantically pats her mother’s shoulder.

“Mama! Mama!” she cries. “Nikan! Kuaikan ya!”

Look.

But of course, there’s nothing for her mother to see. I’ve stuffed the map deep into my pocket and leaped out of bed, erasing all evidence that I might still be in the compartment.

Qiqi’s mother makes a small noise of exasperation. “Look at what? I told you not to interrupt me when I’m having a conversation, Qiqi.”

“Ta—ta shizong le!” Qiqi insists, pointing at the spot I was in just now.

She disappeared.

“Yes, I know, the other girl left the room,” Qiqi’s mother says impatiently, then shoots Chanel an apologetic look. “Sorry, my daughter likes to talk a lot when she’s bored. Says all sorts of nonsense.”

Qiqi’s face scrunches up, her frustration rivaling her mother’s. “Mama, ta zhende... Qiqi meiyou hushuo...”

I can still hear her arguing with her mother as I creep out of the compartment, into the crowded corridor.

Passengers are pacing back and forth, grabbing packets of instant noodles and chocolate pie from the train vendors or filling up their water kettles. After a woman trips over my foot and nearly spills boiling water all over me, it becomes quite apparent that I can’t just hang around here until my invisibility turns off again.

Without consciously making a decision about where to go next, I end up outside Henry’s compartment.

To save the teachers time and energy, our train compartments and hotel roommates have been arranged based on our dorms, which means Henry is in there, alone.

The thought scares me a little.

But when another passenger barges right into me from behind, swearing and yanking at my hair with excruciating force as they try to regain their balance, my nerves quickly still. I slide the door wide open and step in.

I was wrong, in a way—Henry is the only Airington student here, but he isn’t alone alone. There are two businessmen snoring on the upper bunks, one using their suit as a blanket, the other half propped up against the wall, his head lolling back and forth every time the train jolts.

Beneath them, Henry is sitting upright, hands folded in his lap, gaze fixed on the opposite wall. It’s strange seeing him like this: out of his school uniform and in a plain white V-necked shirt instead, his dark hair falling over his brows in soft, unbrushed waves.

He looks really, infuriatingly good.

He also looks...tense.

As I draw closer, I notice the uneven rhythm in his breathing, the muscle straining in his arms, as if ready for combat or to jump out of the train at a moment’s notice.

Then he turns toward me, some emotion I can’t quite decipher flickering in his eyes. “Alice?”

He says my name like a question.