I did not return to the Westfield that evening. I could not walk the winding road that had stolen everyone I loved from me. I could not pace down the cobblestoned village and face Hubertine and everyone else asking where my constant companion was. The teacher had not told me this, but I was smart enough to know that Athena's time in the Academy would last until her death, and that she would likely never return to Westfield. I had never heard of the Art Academy, but I'd heard of other ones similar to it. They were communities of women that lived and worked exclusively within itself. Its members would travel around the country, never staying in one place for more than a year, and sleeping wherever they could find a bed. I couldn't imagine my best friend living in this nomadic style, but then again it was her only way to create art. Athena had a gift, that I couldn't deny. Somewhere inside of me, although I knew that it was wrong, I wished she never had that talent. Then she would still be by my side.

The last time I had ever been without Athena was when I was five years old. I had been living at Westfield since I was born— put into this small percentile that was sent here from the jail cells at the border. As far as I was aware, I was the only child that whole year sent to Westfield right away. In fact, the teachers claimed they didn't have space for me. They didn't have the programs in place to support newborns. I was still so young though that I couldn't be sent somewhere else, so they would have to make it work. I lived in a house in the village with two women whom I can't remember for the life of me. I always felt that if I saw them again, I would know instantly that they were the ones who raised me until my third birthday, but I've never had such luck. I feel as though we lived in the flat above the bakery, but Miss Hubertine denied it. She said the two women who raised me moved out long ago. She would not tell me their names, or to where they had run off. I wondered if they remembered me, or if they missed me now. Did they think about who I grew up to become? Did little Lanie in little old Westfield ever cross their minds?

After three years, I was old enough to live in Westfield Youth Hall. I was the youngest person there, so I was in a dormitory with the four year olds. A teacher lived in our room as well. I do not know for sure, but I believe it may have been the same teacher who informed me of Athena's departure. During that year, Simona and Virginia arrived. They were two other little girls my age, and the three of us were practically inseparable for the next two years. That was the year a bus brought our other halves: Elizabeth Cady, Susan, and my Athena. We were five by then, and there were enough of us to have a dormitory all to ourselves; we were big girls now.

"My name's Athena," she had said to me that first day.

"I've never heard that name before," I said back. I believe I was judgemental back then, and intimidated. Athena was three syllables, and Lane was only one. Her name had only three more letters than mine, but I thought that made all the difference in the world.

"I heard it's a good name," Athena frowned, "And it's pretty and sounds like a type of flower."

"I've never heard of an Athena flower," I said, as though correcting her was the only way to justify my existence.

"Well, what's your name?" she asked.

"Lane," I muttered quietly, "Lane's not a flower either."

"That's alright. It's just a name," she shrugged. "I think it sounds like a bird."

"A bird?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I had never associated my name with an animal. My name was a synonym for a street. I remember looking at Athena and thinking she seemed perfect. She was a whole head taller than me, and had thick blonde hair tied in two pigtails, and her eyes were the color of an ocean. I had never seen an ocean, but I thought that if I ever did see one, I would not be able to tell it apart from the colors in Athena's face.

I liked Athena from the beginning. She didn't laugh at me because I was so little, and she made me feel like I was someone important. People had never been mean to before then, but it wasn't until I met Athena that I truly felt valued. I guess you do not know what you've been missing until it jumps right out in front of you.

Elizabeth Cady was scary from the moment she entered. She was full of energy, and the from the way she looked at me when she entered the room, I knew that she was a force to be reckoned with. She looked at me, and then she looked at Simona, then back at me, and back at Simona, and just like that she'd made her pick.

"We'll be the best of friends," she'd said right away. Simona just smiled happily. She was a sweet girl always, and for someone to be so excited about her was rare. The three of us— Simona, Virginia and I— were only ever known as the little girls. Sometimes the townspeople would make more of a fuss over me because I'd been there longer, but for the most part, we were looked at as a trio and nothing else. When these other three arrived, we were singled out for the very first time in our lives.

So Cady took Simona by the hand, and Athena made me feel special. I was a little bit sad that Simona was untouchable now. She used to be my friend, but now she was only Cady's friend. Virginia and Susan became very close as well, but I believe that was just because Virgina wasn't me or Simona, and Susan wasn't Athena or Cady. I was still friends with Virginia and Susan, but all six of us knew who our person was.

Sitting all alone in the forest near Eden's border, I had to let out a laugh. We all had chosen our person so tightly, and look where it got us: only Virginia and Susan had remained together, and they were the two who were only friends by default. Simona had gone off to a city that wasn't quite Maverick, but it was no Westfield either. Cady was off in Maverick with Virginia and Susan, the two girls whom she had deemed unworthy of her affection from the very beginning. And now Athena? Well, she was anywhere, everywhere, and nowhere all at once.

I believe I fell asleep in that dirty little clearing away from town. When I awoke, the sun had risen to be about perhaps a 45 degree angle on the protractor called Earth. It was time I head back home.