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Chapter Eight

Classmates gather in front of the list, and Laurel comes to a stop behind them. She rises to her tiptoes to see over their heads. Sophie-Anne copies her.

I inch forward but freeze as Sophie-Anne squeals a second time in the span of a minute. “Madison was right!”

“But why didn’t they put all four of us together?” Laurel asks as she twists her necklace. “It’s me, Sophie-Anne, and Madison, with Cody Mack.”

Sophie-Anne makes a face, and I shove my hands deep in my pockets.

“That makes no sense.” Madison looks between Laurel and me. “Why would they separate roommates? They didn’t split up Emmaline and Clara or Sully and Tess.”

I’ve been wondering this for hours.

Laurel frowns. “I’m so sorry, Elle.”

“All right, everyone,” Señor L calls from the dining room. “Come on in and eat up. We have an exciting day ahead of us.”

We enter with the others, then grab our plates and line up for the buffet table. Every second of silence makes my shoulders tense harder.

I look around the dining room as I fill my plate. Andy sits next to Noah-James at one table, just like yesterday, while Abba’s farther up, across from Mrs. West and Mrs. Delfina. Isa is at the head of the other table, sitting alone. I hesitate, looking from Isa to the boys, then to Abba.

Laurel nudges me. “Sit with us.”

Shoulders relaxing, I follow her to the spot where we sat last night. The seats across from us are empty today. No Meritxell and Xavi.

“Buenos días,” Señor L says as soon as we take our seats. “Or bon dia, as many of the locals say. I hope you’re all excited about your new teams.”

Laurel squeezes my hand under the table. I squeeze back.

“If you didn’t end up with the people you were hoping for, consider it a chance to get to know some of your classmates better.”

I glance toward the other table. Andy seems to be listening to Señor L, but Noah-James’s eyes are on his phone.

“There’ll also be plenty of opportunities to spend time with your friends at the afternoon lectures and field trips, plus during the siestas and dinners right after them,” Señor L continues.

Across the room, Noah-James sets his phone down and digs into his food. Mouth full, he says something to Andy. Andy turns, and we’re suddenly looking right at each other. My gaze skitters away, toward Abba and the other adult chaperones.

“I still don’t get it,” Madison says as Señor L goes over the ground rules he mentioned when we ran into each other earlier. He also lets us know the chaperones have subway passes for everyone and can buy us things like admission tickets. Our parents paid in advance for things like this as part of our trip tuition.

He tells us to come get an info packet and assemble into our teams once we’ve finished eating. Madison keeps talking without missing a beat. “If they were going to make us do small groups, at least let us choose who we want to work with.”

“Right?” Sophie-Anne sighs. “This feels like school, just in a different location.”

I’m about to tell her this trip technically is school when Abba catches my eye.

Opportunities. Small groups.

Suddenly, the words rearrange themselves into a complete sentence. They’re no longer in a Southern accent but one that’s airy Israeli.

My body goes hot. As Abba turns back to the moms, I remember our talk at the airport.

He said there’d be opportunities to be more on my own. Times when my classmates and I might be in small groups.

I stare at my plate.

What if Abba knew I was supposed to be on Laurel’s team but then he asked Señor L to switch me after I said I didn’t need space?

My fault.

I force myself to eat something, taking small bites. Kids chatter around me. Noise builds like a crescendo in one of Mom’s songs.

This is all my fault.

I try to think of something else, like Dr. Talia’s tips to combat overwhelm. But my breath catches. My chest feels tight.

“Ellen? Hi.” I look up. Isa stands across the table from me. I stare at purple hair, then a silver stud in the cartilage of one ear.

I swallow hard. “Hey…”

“You know who our other teammates are, right?”

“Laurel, let’s move down a bit,” Sophie-Anne calls.

I blink fast, trying to untangle the two sentences.

Laurel waves at me, then scoots toward her team as Cody Mack drops into a seat across from them. He runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair while I repeat Isa’s question to myself. Once each word connects to the next and the sentence finally makes sense, I nod.

“Cool. You want to go meet up with them?”

“No.” I don’t even care if being honest makes me sound rude right now.

To my surprise, Isa laughs. “Me neither, if they’re the two I think they are. But we should probably go anyway.”

Isa’s right. Unfortunately.

Slowly, I grab my backpack, throwing one last glance at Laurel. She and Sophie-Anne sit shoulder to shoulder, eyes on the packet Señor L just handed out.

I lead Isa to Andy and Noah-James at the other table. A few seats away, Emmaline waves her hands as she talks to her teammates, just like Mom does when she’s excited. Light glints off a silver ring on her pinkie finger. My eyes follow the dancing sparkle.

“Nu, metukah.” Abba appears. “Ready to get started?”

Eyes still on Emmaline’s ring, I don’t respond.

“Señor L gave us our info packets.” A rapid flutter of paper draws my attention toward my new team. Noah-James waves the stapled sheets so fast it creates a breeze.

“And a school tablet.” Andy holds it up. “Want to go to the community room? It’s probably quieter.”

“I’m down,” Isa says.

Without a word, I follow Isa and the boys out of the dining room, Abba trailing behind us.

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The boys claim the community room couch. Isa and I sit down in a pair of armchairs across from them, separated by a coffee table. I hug my backpack to my chest like a shield.

Only Abba stays standing. “I’ll be in my room: 3B. Once you’ve decided on your first destination, come get me.”

The door clicks closed.

“So…” Andy places the school tablet and info packets on the coffee table. “We should probably introduce ourselves.”

Noah-James slouches into the couch cushion. His messy brown hair falls over one eye, but he doesn’t lift a hand to brush it away. “Dude, we already know each other.”

“Not all of us do.” Andy glances at Isa.

I remember when Laurel and I first met, in Lynnwood’s front office. Her hair was longer then, woven into two perfect French braids. She seemed to know everyone as she guided me to my first class, introducing me to each kid we passed in the hallway. Soon, I knew everyone, too, all thanks to Laurel.

It’s only been a few minutes, but I miss her already.

“I’ll go first,” Andy says. “I’m Andy Zhang. I’m thirteen, and, uh…” He presses his lips together for a moment. “I have a little sister and play basketball. I guess that’s about it.”

“What are your pronouns?” Isa asks.

“Sorry, what?”

“You know, like he and she,” Isa says. “What words do you use?”

Oh.” Andy’s brows rise. “He, I guess.”

“Cool.” Isa crosses one leg over the other. “I’m Isa Martinez. I’m thirteen, and my family just moved from the Bronx in New York. I have two younger sisters and a baby brother, so I can recite basically every Disney movie by heart. I’m also really good at fixing the things they break.”

So that explains the Emperor’s New Groove reference.

“My pronouns are they, them, and their,” Isa continues.

They is for a group of people,” Noah-James cuts in, “not just one.”

“Nope, not always,” Isa shoots back.

I flinch, then look down fast, hoping no one will notice. Maybe it’s because we’re sitting close to each other, but Isa’s voice rings in my ears. Too sharp. Too loud.

“People use it all the time when they don’t know the gender of the person they’re talking about,” Isa explains. “That’s how I use it, too.”

There’s a category for pronouns in my dot diary, a page I created when I started taking Spanish. It’s got entries for English and Spanish, plus Hebrew. But each entry only has two sets of words: one for boys, the other for girls.

They, them, and their don’t fit on my lists. Not in any language.

“Because you’re not a boy or a girl?” Andy asks. “That’s what you said at the airport, right?”

“Yeah.”

I squeeze my backpack tighter.

Noah-James drops his legs onto the coffee table, narrowly missing the tablet. “So why are you staying on the girls’ floor then?”

“Because people don’t know what to do with someone different from what they’re used to.” Isa shrugs. “They figure it out eventually, or they don’t. Not my problem.”

Still too loud. I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

“All right, well…” It’s a relief when Noah-James clears his throat. “Anyhow. I’m Noah-James Gibson III, but my teammates call me Gibs. Y’all can, too. I’m thirteen, same as everyone, and number twenty-one on the court. Last season wasn’t the greatest. I had a hard time concentrating, but then I found out I have ADHD so that probably explains it.” He looks over at Andy. “But we’re gonna kill it this year, right?”

I wonder if he has an individualized education plan set up to help him at school like I do, but the question sticks in my throat.

“Totally,” Andy says.

“Pronouns?” Isa asks.

For a moment, I think Noah-James—Gibs—might refuse, but he just rolls his eyes. “I’m a guy. Obviously.”

“So he, him, his. Good to know.” Isa turns to me. “What about you?”

“Ellen,” I say. “Ellen Katz. I’m thirteen, and…” Suddenly, I can’t remember what the others shared. I grip my backpack tighter. If Laurel were here, she could step in.

“My best friend, Laurel, and I have sleepovers on Saturday nights,” I say in a rush to fill the growing silence. Then I remember that Isa’s new and doesn’t know everyone yet. “She’s the girl I was sitting next to at breakfast, plus dinner last night.”

“The one she’s attached to like white on—” Gibs goes quiet when Andy elbows him.

Isa acts like nothing happened, doesn’t even look at them. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“No. But I watch Disney movies with my dad. He’s an artist.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Andy nod. “And I use she, her, and hers for pronouns—but I also like yours.”

Isa grins. “No reason you can’t use both.”

Before I can ask Isa how that’d work, Andy leans forward and reaches for the info packets.

“We should probably get started. Everyone ready?”

I place my backpack on the floor as Andy hands out the packets. My mouth feels dry. My dot diary can’t help me anymore now that this new version of our trip has officially started.