Quiet, her voice muffled by the quilt, she replies, “She told me I was magic itself.”

Lena pokes her between the shoulder blades. “What was that?” she teases.

“I’m not saying it again!” Maxine protests.

“You really do like her,” I say.

Maxine smiles something private, just for her. “I do.”

I barely trust Anais, but if Maxine does, it has to be good enough for me, and I really am thrilled. Finally, an adventure when she’s been craving one so desperately.

I take her in my arms and squeeze. Lena joins us, and for a moment we just hold one another. This is a forever kind of love.

“I’ll miss you terribly.”

Maxine brushes an errant tear from my face. “I’ll be home in October. I’ll bring you the greatest souvenirs you’ve ever seen, and Frances, seems you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, despite the stunt you pulled today. What will you do with it?”

What will I do with it? When my brother died, I was worried I would never have a family again. How wrong I was.

Then I was worried I would spend my life living in fear. I don’t feel that way anymore either. Now I’m mostly just curious.

“I’m not sure,” I say. “I’ll keep teaching, I think.” I don’t know yet how to make the world a better place, but helping others figure out how to use what already exists within them feels like a good place to start. I don’t have to have the rest figured out yet, but I know who will be beside me as I do.

There is still so much I haven’t seen, so much I don’t know, so many people left to love. I clutch the thought to my chest, and let it warm me from the inside out.

Lena and I board the ship bound for New York four days later. We spend our last days in Paris eating croissants, sprawled out on jade-green lawns, the sun warming our faces.

At night I practice magic, having missed it for the months it abandoned me. I ripen and wither berries on top of a tart, I float a balloon across a courtyard and into Nina’s hands, I send a rosebush into a riot of blooms even though it’s too hot for the blossoms to survive the day. The next morning the sidewalk is littered with petals that get stuck to the soles of our shoes. Maxine and Lena treat me with kid gloves, making sure I eat and sleep, always asking me how I’m feeling.

I reply with a polite “Fine.” How do I admit I’m grieving the person I hate the most?

Sometimes at night I cry. Sometimes I don’t. My sleep is dreamless and dark. I crawl into bed with Maxine or Lena to stop it from feeling so lonely.