“She doesn’t?” There’s a heartbreaking note of hope in her voice. And I know that everything Sanjita said is true.

I smile gently. “Nope. It’s a secret. She doesn’t know.”

“It’s pretty,” Hattie finally says.

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it. Because it’s yours now.”

For the second time in a single minute, Hattie looks surprised. I hold out the key. She takes it slowly. “Don’t you want to give this to Kurt? Isn’t it his, too?”

“Kurt has new places to explore. And…he’s not you. He’s not my sister.”

She almost appears to be shaken. Almost.

“And, you know, you don’t have to keep any of this stuff, it’s just junk we’ve picked up over the years—”

“No! No, I like it.” She glances around, and her eyes catch on the mural, which I’ve been trying my best to ignore. “You brought Josh up here, too.”

I tuck my hands inside my coat pockets. “Yeah.”

“So was this some sort of gross sexual playground? Did you do it on top of this carousel horse-head?”

“Hattie!”

She laughs at my reddened cheeks, and after a moment, I can’t help but join in. “No,” I say. “But maybe you should wash the blanket in that trunk.”

My sister squeals with genuine horror, which only makes us both laugh harder. When we finally stop, she pulls her gaze away from mine again. She focuses on the river. “It’s cool of you to give this to me. So…thanks.”

“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath. “For being so awful to you this year. And for blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Hattie nods. She doesn’t take her eyes off the Seine. But I know we’re okay.

I take another deep breath, and…there it is. A new and distinct smell in the air. Hattie turns her head and smiles at me as the first snowflakes of the year swirl down upon Paris. The city is cold and hushed and beautiful.

“Will you miss this next year?” she asks, and when I look at her in surprise, she adds, “Maman told me they mailed the first cheque to Dartmouth.”

I hesitate, and then I tell her the truth. “I will miss Paris. And I’ll miss New York. I’m excited and scared, but…I think I’m more excited than scared. I think,” I say again.

“You think?”

“I think.” I slide down the wall until I’m sitting down. She sits beside me. We cross our arms, shivering. “When Josh and I were in Spain, we went to this park. This really, really beautiful park. And it started these ideas in my head about how maybe I wasn’t the person that I thought I was. Maybe I’m not a city girl. Maybe I was only thinking about Paris versus New York, because nothing else seemed real, somehow. Like, everywhere else just seemed like something—”

“You’d read about in a book.”

“Exactly. But being in this beautiful park with this beautiful boy talking about this alternate future in which I’m someone who learns how to camp and climb rocks and build fires and sleep below the stars…in that moment, it seemed possible.”

“So what? You’re gonna be a park ranger?”

I laugh. “I just want to try those things. They sound fun.”

“What about Josh?”

My eyes catch on his mural. On the brownstone with ivy window boxes and the American flag. “What about him?”

“He’s not a part of your plans any more?”

“Well…no. We broke up. And I don’t need him to do those things.”

“Yeah, duh,” Hattie says. “But that’s not what I meant. I meant don’t you still want to do those things with him?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “I still want to do everything with him.”

“Isla…why do you think that Josh didn’t love you?”

My voice grows even smaller. “Because I thought no one could love me.”

“And why did you think that?”

“Because I didn’t think I was worth loving.”

Hattie takes this in. And then she hits me in the stomach. I yowl in surprise, and she hits me again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Ow.”

“Everyone is worthy of love. Even a dumb sister like you.”

I snort. “Yeah, thanks. I got that. I’m okay now.”

“Are you? Because you don’t act like a person who is okay. You mope around school, and you hardly ever leave your room, and you always look unhappy.”

“Says the sister with the permanent scowl.”

“You need to talk to him.”

I sigh and stare at my lap. “I know.”

“So why haven’t you?”

“Because now I do believe that he loved me. And I’m afraid that after all this time, after everything I’ve put him through…he doesn’t any more.”

“Ugh. So take a risk and find out. The sooner you ask him, the sooner you can get on with your life. Either way,” she adds.

Thanks to Josh, I am taking risks. I’ve learned that if I never leave those areas of my life that feel comfortable, I’ll never have a chance at a greater happiness. Accepting Dartmouth was a risk. Asking my sister to hang out with me was a risk. But the biggest risk of all is still Josh himself. I don’t yet have the courage to give him the opportunity to say no. It’s impossible, the not-knowing, but it’s better than getting the wrong answer.

There’s a muffled ring from inside my coat pocket. I pull out my phone to silence it, and then it drops from my hands and bounces against the concrete.

Josh.

It’s his actual name. I haven’t seen it on the screen of my phone since before Barcelona. My heart wrenches. “Is that him? How can that be him?”

“Whoa. He heard us.”

I pick up my phone. “What do I do?”

“One more ring until voicemail.” Hattie peers over my shoulder. “Tick-tock.”

I scramble to answer. “He— Hello?”

There’s a strange hiccup of silence. And then he speaks, and his voice – It’s him, it’s him, it’s him – is awash with strangled relief. “I didn’t know if you’d answer.”

“You got your phone back.”

“Yeah. Last week.”

I feel a stab of sadness that he didn’t call me immediately. And then a second stab, this one of guilt. I broke up with him. Of course he shouldn’t call me.