Chapter Twenty-Eight

Day 12

I stare into the darkness, toward Laurel’s empty bed. The ache in my chest gets worse by the minute.

Laurel sat between Sophie-Anne and Madison at dinner last night, same as always. But all three kept their backs to me, while Meritxell and Xavi sat in their usual seats.

At my table, it was just me, Isa, and Gibs. No Andy. My teammates kept their eyes on their plates. No talking or texting.

Then Laurel packed her clothes, throwing all her belongings in her suitcase as I looked on. She left for Sophie-Anne and Madison’s room without a word.

I roll on my side, wishing I could go back in time. I’d return to the moment before our team meeting when things started falling apart.

Or earlier. If I’d just talked to Abba last week, I wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

I take a breath and let it out slowly. Over and over for what feels like hours. My mattress squeaks as I shift again. My phone screen lights up with my movement.

3:56 a.m.

What if…

I grab my backpack, then make my way downstairs to the garden, mentally preparing my apology. I sit on my usual bench, then pull out my diary. The last entry is from Monday night, after Laurel and I finished watching Spanish YouTube videos. While Laurel brushed her teeth and showered, I wrote about how happy we were to finally spend time together—or so I thought.

My heart twinges with every passing minute.

I’ve been so distracted worrying about Laurel’s team’s progress. Now I’m not sure how my own team is going to finish—all because I told Laurel a secret that wasn’t mine to tell.

My fault. I did this.

I close my diary, unable to read through the blur of fresh tears.

A postcard slips out from between the pages.

Tomorrow we will do beautiful things, it says.

Today is technically an early tomorrow. As the minutes tick by and no one appears, I can’t see how anything will be beautiful. I’d rather look at the postcard of my owl, but it’s up in my room, still pinned between my bed frame and the wall.

I stare at the hotel. Three floors up, Sophie-Anne and Madison’s window is dark. I don’t know what side of the building Andy and Gibs are on, but Isa’s room faces the street, with all its people and pigeons and cars.

Along with the real version of my owl.

I sit up, then head for the door like someone else is in charge of my movements. I pad across the hallway, past Meritxell’s room, stopping at the stairs.

My owl, my owl.

Upstairs, the postcard waits. I can look at it as much as I want.

Except, the real one is just steps away.

I move toward the front door, then stop. It’s against the rules to be outside the hotel without an adult. I know this. I also know I’ll feel so much better once I see my owl looking down at me.

Dr. Talia once explained that the purpose of rules is more important than what they literally say. I’m pretty sure the purpose of this one is to make sure kids don’t go off on their own and get lost in Barcelona.

My owl is right on top of the hotel. There’s no way I’ll get lost. I actually might not even need to leave the building to see it.

I pull the front door open and lean outside. But all I can see is the hotel’s stone architecture, no matter how much I crane my neck.

A couple strolls hand in hand past me. My eyes track them as they cross the street, heading right for the spot where I took a pic of my owl on my first full day here.

I can’t get lost, so the rule isn’t saying I can’t see my owl. I make my way across the street.

The owl looks down at me, its eyes a comforting yellow glow. Chin tilted up, I stare at it until my neck aches.

In just a few days, this trip will be over, I tell myself. I’ll fly home and talk it all out with Dr. Talia. Every one of my decisions analyzed, dissected, so I can do better next time.

Except there won’t be a next time if I’ve ruined all of my friendships.

I thrum my fingers against my leg, but there are no sounds to focus on to find my calm. I could rock, but I don’t think it’d be enough to make this hollow feeling go away.

I try anyway.

Back and forth. Heels to toes. Arms wrapped around myself.

Eyes never leaving my owl.

It’s not enough. I imagine Dr. Talia erasing the checkmark beside Ellen’s progress—Positive attitude. I can’t do anything right.

I don’t immediately get jokes and puns.

Need everything organized into categories and lists.

Sometimes ask rude questions.

My owl blurs out of focus as my eyelids get heavy. I stop rocking. Coming out here hasn’t solved anything.

I head back to the hotel.

A couple hours of sleep. Then I’ll figure out what to do in the morning, like Abba with his drawings. He leaves his office, cleans the house, naps. Then he comes back and tackles what he got stuck on with a clear head. Maybe that would also work for friendships.

Already imagining curling up under my bedsheets, I pull on the door.

It doesn’t budge.

Realization comes slowly as I stare at my hand, then the door handle. My room key can’t help me down here, and Laurel has the one I need now.

I’m locked out.