School becomes more bearable because now there is Clara. Clara moved her from the countryside a few weeks ago, after her father got a flashy new job in a flashy skyscraper. She’s a grade below Talia and overwhelmed by the size of her new school, making her shy. She usually speaks just above a whisper, sometimes tripping over her words, and she fidgets often, tearing up napkins during lunch with timorous, bony fingers.

But she likes books, and she always has amazing stories to tell from them about princesses and dragons and space and new, strange planets. She makes sympathetic noises whenever Talia grumbles about Foster Mother Nine, murmuring that her own mother likes her quiet too—is always complaining about how loud the city is. And most importantly, her eyes get all bright every time Talia chooses to sit next to her.

Talia thinks that, maybe, she’s actually made a friend.

***

The days continue to get warmer, and the rest of the school year can be measured in weeks.

“Have you ever been outside the city?” Polo asks one Saturday morning, when it’s hot enough to open the windows in the apartment and let the breeze drift through the rooms, playing with the curtains.

“No.” Sometimes Talia thinks that the city must go on forever. She cannot fathom a world outside of it, beyond the sprawling jumble of buildings she’s known in the twelve years of her life.

“Have you finished all of your homework?” Polo asks next, glancing at Talia from her spot near the window, watering her array of plants.

“Yes,” Talia says, and it’s only a small lie. She has most of it done, but her English teacher wants them to write an essay about family and every time she tries to figure out what she wants to say, the words scuttle away from her. She’s tired of staring at a blank notebook page.

Polo arches a knowing eyebrow at her, but doesn’t press. “How would you like to take a trip, then?”

“A trip?”

Polo hums. “It’ll still be a little cold, but I thought we could go to the ocean.”

Talia blinks. “You can reach the ocean from here?”

She’s read about the ocean, of course, and seen it in photographs and films, but it’s always felt like a far-off place, not something she could ever reach.

Polo laughs. “Well, we have to take a train for an hour or two but yes, we can reach it from here.”

Talia fights the urge to bolt upright from the force of her excitement. “Let’s go to the ocean!”

Polo laughs again, shaking her head. “Alright, I’ll make us lunch. Make sure you have your coat and hat, it’ll be colder out there.”

Talia salutes, just for the amused look Polo gives her, and watches, vibrating with excitement, as Polo packs them warm soup, then retrieves her own coat and boots from the cupboard near her front door.

“Let’s go,” she says, shouldering the bag with their food.

Talia jams her hat onto her head and follows Polo out into the city, which is bustling as everyone pours outside to soak up the sun. Polo takes them on an unfamiliar path to a new bus stop.

They squeeze on board when it arrives, sandwiched between chattering students excited for the weekend, couples going on dates to the parks downtown, and parents trying to wrangle hyper children.

When they get off several stops later, Talia gapes up at the massive train station that feels like a blend of old and modern—ornate statues and stone paired with sleek glass and metal arches. Usually, Talia just takes the subway or the bus to get around the city, though her life is mostly contained in the route between home and school.

This feels like stepping into another world. The floors are so shiny she can see herself and Polo reflected in them and everywhere she looks she sees bright screens and people rushing like ants. Polo wades through the chaos with her usual steadiness, holding tightly to Talia’s hand as she navigates along a winding path to the ticket booths.

A few taps to the screen and they have tickets to the ocean. Polo hands Talia hers with instructions not to lose it.

“Our train leaves in fifteen minutes,” she says, leading the way to platform seven.

The train is so different from the subway: bigger and louder as it rumbles up to the platform, like an old beast. Polo finds them a seat near the window and Talia gets to watch as they reach the boundary of the city and the buildings give way to open land—forests and rolling hills and golden fields whipping past in colorful blurs.

Just like Polo said, the air is much colder when they step off the train—wind from the ocean carrying a bite strong enough to cut through Talia’s coat and sting her face. But the ocean. Oh the ocean. She can see the glimmer of it peeking above the dunes as they approach, and it’s so vast. It goes on and on and on, until it’s swallowed by the sky, and Talia has never felt so small in her life.

She gasps when they actually reach the beach, amazed by the crash of the waves and the way the water rushes for the shore then retreats in an endless pattern.

“Let’s have lunch first,” Polo declares. “Then, we can go closer to the water.”

She spreads out a blanket on the sand and Talia is grateful for the soup to combat some of the chill.

“I’ve always loved the ocean,” Polo says with her gaze on the water. “Ever since I was young.”

“I want to see a whale someday,” Talia declares. “And a giant squid. Like the one in that book.”

Polo huffs a laugh. “The ocean is full of strange creatures so maybe you will, one day.”

Once lunch is finished, Polo shoos Talia towards the shoreline while she packs up their supplies. “Just don’t go in the water,” she warns. “It’ll be freezing.”

Talia eagerly approaches the boundary where the sea stops its attempt to conquer the land and retreats. But as she reaches it, something strange happens. Her vision flickers—a flash of white—and suddenly the once-gray ocean is a deep, crystalline purple and a towering wall of water stretches what looks like miles and miles above her head, as tall as any skyscraper. She stares up at it in terror, rooted to the earth and unable to move.

The water consumes the ships racing across the purple waves, the tower roaring its way to the land, to her, and she’s supposed to do something, to stop this but she can’t move, she can’t—

“Talia!”

Talia gasps as Polo shakes her. Another flash of white and the beach is back to normal. No purple water, no wave coming to destroy her, but she’s up to her knees in the frigid ocean and Polo is gripping her shoulder, alarm on her face.

“Sorry,” Talia says, letting Polo pull her back to try land. Her legs feel numb, even through her jeans.

“What happened?” Polo asks, brow pinched.

“I s-saw something,” Talia stammers. “The water turned all purple and there was this giant wave coming right at me.” She looks at Polo, who’s gone pale and tense. “What was that? Do you know?”

“I’m sure it was nothing,” Polo says, and Talia gets the sense it’s the first time she’s ever lied to her. “But we should head home.”

“Already?” They’ve barely been here more than an hour.

“Yes,” Polo says, already heading back to their bags.

The ride home is tense. Polo keeps her gaze on the world outside, and Talia swallows down all the questions bubbling on her tongue, knowing she won’t get answers to them.

“I’m sorry for cutting the trip short,” Polo says outside of Talia’s house. “I’m just feeling tired. We’ll go back some other time, in the summer. For now, let’s just put this behind us.”

Talia nods.

It feels like another lie.