She’s in class now, or I’d say goodbye in person. Instead, I slide a note under the door to her room saying I’ll miss her and be back before she knows it. I hugged her goodbye at breakfast too, and she hugged me back tight around my middle and told me to have a marvelous time.

I hear Maxine before I find her, the swearing coming from behind the door to her room on the second floor.

I don’t bother knocking. The door is unlocked.

I should have known better than to let Maxine wait until the last minute to pack.

“Lena is going to kill you,” I say from the doorway.

Maxine glares up at me from the nest she’s made of discarded clothing on the floor. “She wouldn’t dare. She’ll be too happy to see me.”

I sink onto her bed, becoming one with the chaos, and throw a brimless hat at her, aiming for her head. She ducks at the last minute, and it lands in yet another pile of clothes next to her vanity. “She won’t see you at all if we miss the ship.”

“We’re not going to miss the ship. Stop being dramatic.”

Maxine tosses a tangle of stockings into her suitcase, all knotted together like some kind of sea creature.

I click my tongue at her. “We’re going to be late.”

Maxine throws me a murderous glance. “We’re not going to be late.”

The door swings open. Mabel leans up against the jamb, riding goggles up on her forehead, pushing back her curly hair.

“You’re going to be late,” she says, eyeing the mess.

“Jesus Christ, not you, too,” Maxine replies.

“Don’t act like my awareness of the concept of time is a personal affront, I beg you,” Mabel laughs.

My darling roommate has agreed to be our chauffeur to the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, where a very large ship is waiting to ferry us across a very large sea.

Maxine shoves the ball of fabric into a final waiting trunk and snaps the latch with a flourish. “There now, quiet, the both of you.”

Together, we drag her trunks and hatboxes down to the awaiting ambulance, where my singular case rests in the back, taken down hours ago, well before breakfast.

It’s so bright, I’m soon sweating under my cape. Though no longer technically a student, I couldn’t find it in myself to let go of Haxahaven black. I’ve thrown the cape on over a simple traveling dress. Maxine and I wear near-identical hats, with small brims and black ribbons trailing off the back.

It’s strange to be going anywhere that isn’t here. The most traveling I’ve done in months requires only walking from the courtyard garden to the kitchen. We’re growing carrots now. I’ve grown roots too, gotten good at staying put.