She stares at him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he says, allowing himself a small smile. “I emailed someone on the university council to see if it’s possible to defer the scholarship. I want to be sure before I get my hopes too high.”
“Your hopes are already high,” she says, looking at him fondly. “Have you told your family yet?”
“Just Alfie. George will hate it. And my parents will think that I can’t manage on my own or that I’ll just be skiving off. But this wouldn’t be a lark. I’d obviously love to see some of the world. But it’s so much more than that.”
Mae rests her chin on his chest, listening.
“I want more time,” he says, and there’s a catch in his voice. “It’s always been easier for the others somehow. To be themselves and part of the group. But being here this week—it’s made me realize that I need space to sort that out for myself.” He reaches over and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I know you’re not a detour person—”
Her forehead crinkles. “What do you mean?”
“Only that you know exactly what you want,” he says. “Which is a good thing. But I think maybe this can be too.” He traces a finger over the back of her hand, deep in thought. “Did I ever tell you my mum used to call me Paddington? Getting lost was my specialty.”
She smiles at him. “Maybe it still is.”
“I’ve spent my whole life trailing after them, and this is the first chance I’ve had to be on my own, and I suppose I’m just not ready for it to end yet.” He laughs. “Does this make any sense, or do I sound like someone having a midlife crisis?”
“It makes total sense.”
He nods. “I just hope the university lets me. Alfie thinks they might only be interested in a complete set.”
“A complete set of what?”
“Sextuplets,” he says, his voice flat. “That’s how it always works. For interviews and photos and ads; for anything, really. People always want the whole six-pack.”
Mae rolls her eyes. “You’re people, not cans of beer. Besides, it’s only a year, right? They’ll still get all six of you eventually.”
“I don’t know if they’ll see it that way. It would be one thing if I had a good reason….”
“You do.”
“That I want to skive off for a year and travel the world?”
“It’s not skiving,” she says. “You just said so yourself. And even if it was, who cares? It’s your dream.”
“As of five minutes ago.”
“No,” she says, looking at him seriously. “You’ve known for a long time that you want something different. It just took you a while to figure out what it was.”
“I can’t decide if you’re the cleverest girl I’ve ever met or you’re just as mad as I am.”
Mae’s eyes are shiny with laughter. “Why can’t it be both?” she says brightly.
Below, there’s a chorus of bings from her mobile as they return to an area with reception. “We should get up,” she says. “Breakfast probably ends soon.”
“Wait, what time is it?” he asks as Mae leans over him to open the curtain, and the light comes streaming in to reveal a flat, dusty landscape. “Did we miss our stop?”
“No, they would’ve woken us. We were stuck for a while last night. You were half-asleep.” She’s already wriggling away from him, unhooking the safety net so she can swing her legs free and step next to the lower bunk. When she hits the floor, it’s with a loud thud. “There’s just no graceful way to do that, huh? Come on. I want pancakes. And bacon.”
Hugo closes his eyes for a second, thinking again of the text from his dad with a pang of guilt. When he opens them, Mae is unplugging her mobile from the charger. As she starts to scroll through a long series of texts, her face goes pale, and she grips the edge of his bunk to steady herself.
“What?” Hugo asks, his stomach knotted. Mae is always so unshakable; it’s alarming to see her like this.
She looks up as if she’s forgotten he’s there. “We lost service again.”
“We’ll get it back in Denver. Is everything—”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. She looks like she might cry. “My nana had a stroke.”
Hugo’s heart judders at the bluntness of the word. “I’m so sorry,” he says, though it sounds woefully insufficient. “Will she be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Mae says numbly. “I think so. My dads are on their way to the hospital now. The doctor told them it was a small one, so hopefully she’ll be fine, but…”
“But it’s still really frightening,” Hugo says, and she nods without looking at him, her head bowed over the screen. He feels frozen with uncertainty, not sure if he should leap down and hug her or stay where he is. This is big, what’s just happened, and in the grand scheme of things, they hardly know each other. It’s been less than a week. But it doesn’t feel that way.
It doesn’t feel that way at all.
The train is slowing down now, and an announcement comes over the speaker. “Fort Morgan, Colorado,” says the crackling voice. “This is Fort Morgan. We’ve got fifteen minutes here, which is enough time for a cigarette or some air, but not enough time to leave the platform. So feel free to step off, but keep your ears open for that whistle.”
Mae grabs her hoodie from the hook near the door. “I’m just gonna…,” she says, but she doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she slides on her flip-flops, unchains the lock, and heads around the corner.
For a few seconds, Hugo stays where he is, feeling like a balloon with a pinhole, the air seeping out of him so slowly that it’s hard to tell if it’s even happening.
By the time he scrambles off the bed and tugs on a shirt and a pair of trousers, the train has stopped. He takes a gulp of cool air as he steps down onto the platform. There’s nothing much here, just a small depot and a gravel parking lot. A few other people from their car have gotten off, too, some of them smoking, others squinting at the sky in hopes that the sun might come out, though a line of clouds is gathering in the distance.
He spots Mae all the way up front near the engine, looking very small and very much alone. As he walks toward her, she lowers her mobile, which was pressed to her ear, and stares at it for a second, as if considering whether to launch it onto the tracks. Then she bends down and puts her hands on her knees instead, trying to collect herself.
“I’m okay,” she says as he approaches, her head still lowered.
“You don’t have to be.”
“Yeah, but I am.” She sucks in a breath, then stands up. He can see that her eyes are rimmed with red. “It’s just this stupid—where the hell are we, anyway?”
He glances back at the sign on the platform. “Fort Morgan, Colorado.”
“I know, I just mean…how are there so many places in this country without phone service?” she says, waving her mobile around. “It’s nuts.”
“Nuts,” he agrees, and her face softens.
“I need to call my dads.”
He takes a step closer. “Of course.”
“You don’t have to—look, it’s going to be fine. She went through chemo this spring, and I think this can just happen sometimes. But she’s survived a lot worse. She’ll pull through. She always does. It’ll be fine.”
Hugo puts a hand on either of her arms, and she goes very still. “You’re allowed to be worried.”
“I know that,” she snaps, wrenching away, but he doesn’t move. He bends so their faces are level and sees that her eyes are filled with tears.
“It’s okay to be upset,” he says quietly.
She shakes her head, but her lip is quivering. “I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that. It’s just me. You can talk to me.”
“I hardly even know you,” she says, looking up at him through blazing eyes, and Hugo steps back, stung. He tries to compose his face in a way that doesn’t show this, but he can tell that he’s failed. Her shoulders sag.