Isha clasped Penelope’s hand with both of hers. “Ah, that Australian accent! It’s one of the things I loved most about Sydney when we studied there.” She paused, the dimple in her chin giving her a mischievous-yet-cherubic look that had gotten her out of many a scrape. “Well, that and the boys. Australian boys are so adorable.”

Jaya tossed her a meaningful glance, eyebrow raised. “Are you ready?”

“Where are you going?” Penelope asked.

“To grab an early dinner at A-caf-demy,” Isha explained, naming the café all St. Rosetta’s students frequented, according to the brochure (the punny name Jaya didn’t care for—it was rather puerile). Then, seeing the way Penelope’s face fell a little, Isha began, “Do you—”

“So we’ll be seeing you soon,” Jaya cut in, turning to Penelope. She didn’t want Isha inviting Penelope along. There were matters she needed to discuss with her in private.

Penelope paused, looking a little like a droopy bloodhound. “Right. Cheerio. I’ll just catch up with you later, then.”

“Wonderful.” Jaya smiled and waved. She’d apologize later.

A-caf-demy Bistro was nestled at the base of the rolling hill on which St. Rosetta’s main campus sprawled.

Jaya glanced at Isha, stifling a yawn and shivering lightly as they walked along the path in the fading light of dusk. It got cold quickly in the mountains when the sun went down, something she remembered from a visit to the Alps. Her travel-foggy brain had still neglected to remember to bring a sweater on the walk, and Isha didn’t have one either. Jaya wouldn’t have minded a nap to help with the jet lag, but she’d need to stay awake until later tonight if she wanted to adjust as soon as possible. She had to be as alert as she could be when she met Grey Emerson for the first time.

Isha was dressed in a T-shirt Jaya was very familiar with, one she’d promised Jaya she’d throw away. Jaya opened her mouth to say something, but then she realized Isha was playing rather morosely with the hem. She watched, worry clouding her brow.

It wasn’t a big sacrifice for Jaya to leave behind her friends in Mysuru—she didn’t have that many to begin with. But Isha, being Amma’s daughter, was the quintessential social butterfly. Everyone was heartbroken that she was leaving—the teachers, the custodians, the principal, and the students—though obviously they understood why.