• I'd never been to a train station before. Whenever I went to camp, it was always on a bus, with people crowding around and laughing and bags taking up leg room. I never liked being in crowds too much – not as bad as Mom, who always had to be touching me or Dad or else she'd start to panic – but I still got incredibly uncomfortable.

    I spotted Dad's lanky form waving at us from the gate, my backpack in his hands. Though both he and mom were pretty young for parents, Dad's hair was already bright silver with barely a peppering of black, so he stuck out a bit standing above the crowd. I could see the silver form of the train through the big windows behind him, the walkway between the gate and the train peppered with red and gold leaves blown there by the autumn winds.

    Mom fussed over me, patting my hair and my cheeks, straightening my sweater. I could tell she was trying really hard not to cry, her normally greyish blue eyes turning a dark indigo. I wish I had inherited the trait that let her eyes change color, it was so pretty. She chattered a little, saying she'd take care of Kir, that she'd send letters, that she put a card in my wallet already loaded with plenty of currency for supplies and snacks that could be bought at school. My scholarship would cover basic supplies and meal plans, but nothing more.

    Dad pulled me into a hug and smiled. He wasn't very good at showing his emotions, especially in public, but just having him hug me like that and the quick peck he gave me on my forehead told me how much he'd miss me more than anything he could manage to say.

    "Your luggage is already on the train. Your seat's in car seven," Dad said, pushing the ticket into my hand. I couldn't admit I was nervous as hell. They were already nervous enough for me, if I let it show that I was worried they probably wouldn't let me go. I tried to push down the feeling of wanting to vomit on the floor, slinging the backpack over my shoulder.

    My eyes roved over the crowd. Tons of people, all going in every direction. Kids with snacks, parents carrying ridiculous suitcases obviously not their own. Even a few people with pets in carriers, everyone making sure not to look one another in the eye, to keep to those they knew, even when ordering meals or asking directions.

    Together, my family and I found car seven of my train, and had one last group hug. After a final good-bye to my parents, I stepped onto a train for the first time. It was strangely exciting in an odd sort of way. The car had two floors, the bottom for those with money and the top for those without, judging by the big 'V.I.P.' spelled out in golden script across the door by the stairs.

    Surprisingly, the top floor was rather comfortable. The car was smaller than I thought it'd be, with only a few small compartments. Could I really call them compartments? They were like cubicles almost, with a blue curtain you could draw over the doorway that didn't quite reach the ground, allowing you to see the inhabitant's feet but not anything more. Each little compartment had six plush seats, two sets of three facing each other over a sizable table. Under each set of chairs was a storage area for personal bags. What really shocked me, though, was overhead.

    Instead of windows set into walls like I expected, halfway up the wall the metal siding turned to a big dome of glass. At the moment all I could see was the station roof, grey and dull and somehow covered in graffiti. How did that happen? Did someone actually stand on a train and paint the roof?

    I could see the outside, where people still milled about looking for where to go. I turned away from the masses and settled into one of the soft seats, setting my backpack on the table and drawing the curtain closed. I didn't want anyone to bother me, after all.

    For the first time, I bothered to look at the ticket. Apparently, the train had two stops – the station I was at, and the town the school was in, some place called Atlantea. I'd never heard of it, but apparently it was an overnight trip.

    Great. And here I was stuck in the car without beds.

    I started to close my eyes and relax, waiting for the car to fill up. How many people would be on the train? What sort of people? What kind of school was it? Boarding schools were uncommon in this country, and I knew next to nothing about them. Would I be allowed to go home for holidays? Or would my parents visit me? Would there be dorms in the school, or housing in the town?

    My head was spinning with questions. I'd never considered myself to be very curious, but I couldn't help wondering. Would I really be okay? I'd been trying not to think about actually leaving. Sure, I knew it was inevitable once I had agreed, but...

    I don't know. Maybe I'm just stupid. I put it out of my mind so I didn't really have to think about it. Even though I knew it was happening, it didn't feel real to me.

    My stomach growled hungrily. I'd already eaten lunch, but lately I'd been getting more and more hungry. No wonder I couldn't lose weight, if I was always eating.

    I unzipped the backpack, but before I could dig around for a snack, a very familiar furry white face poked out with a cracker held in its teeth. I stared for a few moments, incredulous, as that cracker vanished very quickly into a very greedy face.

    "Kir!" My voice came out in a weak hiss, as my beloved ferret crawled onto the table with more crackers in his paws. I peeked over the wall into the crowd of people, as though hoping desperately to see my parents still standing in the throng. No use, of course, they were long gone and more people were already clambering onto the train. "Stupid ferret, did you fall asleep in my backpack or something?!"

    I hadn't actually read the scholarly acceptance letter. It was left behind in my room, but I was pretty sure schools didn't allow pets, much less ferrets which were a bundle of trouble no matter where they were.

    I hadn't even got there yet and I was already in trouble.