18
No one attacked us on our way to Battery Park. I held my breath as I passed over my black emergency credit card to pay for our tickets. I had destroyed part of my school (again) and run away from home. There was a very large possibility my dad had finally decided to cut me off and the card was now nothing more than a magnetized bookmark. But the card went through, and the lady handed us our tickets without even looking up from her computer. I magicked away the dirt and rubble from our clothes so the security guard didn’t even give us a second glance as we climbed aboard the ferry.
The wind on the water was even more biting than it had been on land. Like it was determined to freeze off layers of our skin and rip them away forever. Part of me wanted it to.
“We should sit inside.” Eliza
