With a screech of metal on metal, the train rumbles into motion. Clouds of steam roll past, and Freddie snaps the window closed before returning to sit with his book on his lap.
The movement of the train dislodges Gonzalez's lacrosse stick, and Gonzalez leaps up with an exclamation to shove it onto the shelf above you. "Awful thing," she says cheerfully.
"I'm new, too," Freddie volunteers. "Final year. It's so strange to be going away from home!"
Gonzalez waves an airy hand. "Oh, well, I was at Jeanneret International before I turned eighteen," she says, naming a staggeringly expensive boarding school on the southern edge of Westerlin. "So I'm used to being away from my parents. But it'll be nice to see some snow at Gallatin. Where were you?"
Freddie hesitates, leaving you to speak.