“Well, yeah. That’s obvious from your social media,” Clara says. “Which is basically the only reason I know anything happening in your life, by the way.”

“Sorry.” We haven’t talked much since she started medical school and I dropped out of it, which, like everything else, is my fault. It isn’t that we don’t get along. It’s just hard to talk to her sometimes. She’s more like our parents than I am. She’s driven and focused. She knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Whereas I’m usually not sure where I’m going to be from week to week.

Long story short: I may be traveling, but Clara is the one going places.

“Butwhereare you exactly? That doesn’t look like a hostel.”

“This is my new place,” I say, and flip the camera around so she can see the bookcases, the large windows, the gallery wall.

“Your new place?” Clara looks as if she’s waiting for the punchline to a joke.

“I’m taking a break from traveling for a bit,” I say, and flip the camera back around to my face.

Clara is silent. And when there’s silence, I can’t help but fill it. Blame the faulty frontal lobe.

“I’m in a town called Cobh,” I say. “It was the last port of call for theTitanicbefore it sank,” I add, which is still the only fact I know about this place.

Clara frowns. “Why do you have a place in Cobh?”

“I got a job at a pub.”

Clara munches another carrot, waiting until she’s chewed and swallowed before continuing, because, unlike me, my sister has manners. “I thought music was your job,” she says.

“The pub job is temporary. Where areyou?” I ask, though I know she’s sitting on one of the benches outside Harvard Medical School because I used to eat my lunch there too.

Clara doesn’t take the bait to change the subject. “Why are you taking a break in Cobh? Come home. Then you wouldn’t be wasting money on rent, and besides, you didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Year’s.” She ticks off each holiday on her fingers. One, two, three strikes for Raine.

“I’m not wasting money on rent. Free lodging. Comes with the job.”

“Free lodging comes with a bartending job?”

“I’m not bartending. I’m an entertainment coordinator. Just for twelve weeks. Then I’ll be back on the road. Why take a break in Boston when I can take a break inIreland.”

Clara looks as if she’s about to say something, but she shoves a carrot into her mouth instead.

“Want to meet my roommate?” I point the camera at Sebastian, who dozes on the cat perch, before Clara can answer.

“Cute,” she says, though I really don’t think she cares as much as she should. This cat is adorable.

“His name is Sebastian but—”

“Are you ever going to come home?” Clara interrupts.

“Home is where the Wi-Fi automatically connects,” I say. “Sohomeis a lot of places.”

“Including Boston.”

“Actually, I don’t think my phone automatically connects to the Wi-Fi anywhere in the US now. I got a new one after I dropped my phone off Tower Bridge and it disappeared into the Thames. RIP.”

Clara rolls her eyes but doesn’t respond. I flip the camera to selfie mode again. “You could come visitme, you know. Now is the perfect time, since I’m staying put for a bit and have a nice place for once. You could probably use a vacation anyway. I should still be here during your spring recess. End of March, right?”

“Right.”

I take a closer look at Clara and discover that she isn’t as put together as she usually is. There are dark circles under her eyes. Wisps of frizzy hair stick out from her usually neat bun. There’s a mysterious stain on her coat, normal for someone like me, but Clara once asked for a tiny iron and ironing board for Christmas so she could bring it with her to college and was genuinely excited to get Tide to Go pens in her stocking. “You look like shit.”

Clara rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Lorraine.”

“I mean you look like youfeellike shit.”