Before they’d gone to the windows to look, then gone upstairs for a better view, Presley had been trying to set up her area. She’d dragged two chairs to either end of her sleeping area, and strung one line of twine between the backrests of the chairs. The twine was threaded through the sleeves of two dresses she never wore, and the dresses hung down to provide a limited curtain. She started adjusting the length of the twine, winding it around the metal bit of the chair that held the cheap plastic cushion up.

“Why are you doing that?” Caden asked.

“Privacy.”

“Does it really matter?” he asked. “Your chairs are taking up space. Just saying.”

She picked up her backpack, which was stuffed to bursting, and plunked it down on the seat. She scooted it closer to her, so the chair stood over where her feet would go, and put one foot beneath the chair, before giving Caden a pointed look.

“You’re going to hate that you did that when you kick your legs while sleeping.”

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep a wink tonight. I don’t think anyone is.”

“Then why do you have a bed?” he asked.

“Because if I didn’t I’d have no place to sit and have a moment of peace,” she told him, stressing the last part.

She stood up on her knees and unzipped her bag. Mostly it was essentials like toiletries and a spare change of clothes, and an extra layer, but there was other stuff she just wanted to keep with her, like her old phone, which she planned to charge up when she charged her current phone, so she could game if she needed distractions.

Then there was the stuff she’d pulled off her wall, slotted into the front flap. She winced as she saw how it had been bent into a curve by the bulge from the main compartment of the bag. She smoothed out the photograph she’d had printed.

Victoria, Swansong, and Capricorn on the train. Swansong and Capricorn were doing the selfless shot thing, teasing the camera with hints about their identities. She’d seen their faces though.

Seeing the photo and remembering the sun shining through the little windows in the train car was reassuring, as much as seeing Swansong was sad. By looking at the picture, she could imagine being there, back then, when things had been okay and cool, even promising. Compared to then, the only light that came from outside was ominous, alien, and she had no idea what it meant.

She studied the picture, immersing herself in it. The quirk of an eyebrow on Swansong’s part, the way her shoulder hunched forward, a little defensive. Capricorn was pretty, as boys went.