ISLA
AND THE
H A P P I LY E V E R A F T E R
Emily’s friend. Josh gives Sanjita her own page. He dresses her in a suit of armor without gloves. The suit is as polished as her exposed fingernails, but she’s looking down and away, as if she’s afraid that we can see through the steel to what’s really underneath. It gives me the chills. He tilts it in my direction for approval. “Wow,” I whisper. “Yes.” Professeur Hansen doesn’t hear it, but Sanjita turns around in her seat to glare at me. Her mouth forms a perfect circle of surprise. Few people know about my crush, but she’s one of them. In the corner of my eye, Josh discreetly turns the page. I hold Sanjita’s gaze. She recedes, battle lost. I clutch my necklace for comfort. A moment later, Josh extends a slender arm across the aisle. He crooks a finger. I hold out the compass on its long, antique chain, and as he leans forward to take it, his hand carelessly brushes against mine. Or . . . not carelessly? He cradles the compass in his palm, studying it, head mere inches from my own and . . . citrus. His shampoo. Oranges, maybe tangerines. “Ahem.” We startle, and Josh drops the necklace. It swings back against my chest and lands with an audible thump. Professeur Hansen has surprised us from behind. The other students laugh, having seen the setup. It’s always amusing when he catches someone not paying attention. Except when that someone is you. He comically raps the back of Josh’s chair. “As fascinating as Mademoiselle Martin’s necklace is, I assure you that the 41