The week passed in a blur of packing, planning, and nervous anticipation.
Every night since I got the letter, I had fallen asleep staring at the it as if the silver crescent moon stamped on the envelope could somehow vanish if I didn't keep watch.
But it was still there, as real as the three bags now sitting by the front door.
"Do you really need all of this?" Liam's voice broke through my thoughts as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed like the self-appointed guardian of my sanity. His tousled dark hair stuck out at odd angles, and his faded hoodie had the sleeves shoved up to his elbows.
I zipped the last bag with a decisive tug and gave him a look. "Yes, Liam, I do. What if Moonveil doesn't have normal clothes? What if they all wear suits to breakfast or something?"
He snorted. "Haha. I am pretty sure even rich kids wear pajamas, Maeve. You're just panicking."
"Am not."
"Are too," he shot back with a smirk, leaning down to ruffle my hair like I was still five. I swatted at him, but he danced out of reach.
"Quit it!" I groaned, trying to fix my now-messy bun.
"What? I'm just saying, you'll be fine." His grin softened slightly. "You're smarter than all of them put together, anyway."
I paused mid-swat, blinking at him. "Wait… was that a compliment? From you? Without me choking you?"
He rolled his eyes, pretending to look anywhere but at me. "Don't get used to it. I've got a reputation to maintain."
"Wow," I teased, grinning. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
"Shut up." He gave me a playful shove, but I could see the faintest blush creeping up his neck.
For a second, the banter slipped away, and I realized how much it meant hearing him say that. "Thanks," I said softly.
"Yeah, yeah." He shrugged, like my gratitude made him itchy. "Just don't tell anyone I went all mushy, or I'll deny everything."
Before I could answer, a wail rose from the hallway.
"Maeve! Don't go!"
I turned just in time for Marcie to fling herself at me. Her cheeks were blotchy, her nose red, and her arms wrapped around my waist like she could glue me to the floor if she squeezed hard enough.
"Oh, Marcie," I sighed, crouching to hug her back. "I'm not leaving forever, you know. It's just school. I'll visit."
"But it's so far away!" she sniffled, pulling back enough to glare at my packed bags like they'd personally offended her. "What if you forget about us?"
"Forget about you?" I laughed through the sudden sting in my eyes. "Marcie, you're my baby sister. I could never forget about you."
"You'd better write me letters," she demanded, pointing a chubby finger at my chest. "Real ones, not texts."
"Deal," I said, sealing the promise with a pinky swear.
By the time we'd loaded my bags into Dad's rusty old sedan, the sky was a soft blue-gray, clouds drifting lazily like they knew I was too jittery to notice anything but my racing heart.
Ava approached the house, her steps brisk, her hair pulled back into two messy buns. She was wearing her favorite jean jacket with the peeling patches. The second she saw me, she ran over and nearly tackled me in a hug.
"You're really going," she said, her voice cracking as she squeezed me tighter. "Moonveil Academy, Maeve! You're going to be with the elite of the elite. You better not forget me when you're rich and famous."
I laughed, hugging her back with equal force. "Forget you? Not in a million years."
"Good," she sniffed, then pulled back to wipe her eyes dramatically. "I'm gonna miss you like crazy, though. No one else is gonna eat cafeteria fries with me and pretend they're not poison."
"I'll call you every week, okay?" I said, fighting the growing lump in my throat.
"Twice a week," she shot back. "Or I'll show up at Moonveil and embarrass you in front of all your rich classmates."
"Fair enough," I said, smiling through the ache in my chest.
Behind us, Liam cleared his throat. "Alright, ladies, don't start crying like you're in some sad movie. It's just school."
"Easy for you to say," Ava teased, "you're staying here."
He shrugged and I laughed. I stepped over and hugged him, surprising him into freezing for a second before his arms wrapped around me with a brotherly fierceness.
"Don't get yourself kicked out, Maeve," he muttered against my hair. "If anyone gives you trouble, just remember you're tougher than them."
My throat tightened. "I will. And I'll come back for holidays, I promise."
He let me go with a quick squeeze, pretending not to notice my shiny eyes.
"Alright, alright," Dad's voice boomed from the driver's seat. "If you keep hugging her, we'll be late. Release my daughter before I honk this horn!"
Ava rolled her eyes but gave me one last hug. "Call me as soon as you get there, okay?"
"Promise," I said.
Mom was already buckled into the passenger seat, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I climbed into the backseat, waving as Liam threw an arm around Marcie's shoulders to keep her from running after us.
"Love you guys!" I called out through the open window.
"Love you too!" Marcie sobbed, waving both arms. "Don't forget me!"
"I won't!"
As Dad pulled away from the curb, the house grew smaller and smaller in the side mirror, until it was just a smudge of chipped paint and warm memories. I pressed my forehead against the window, the cool glass grounding me as excitement and sadness tangled together in my chest.
"You ready, kiddo?" Dad asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. His voice was light, but I saw the pride shining in his eyes.
"Yeah," I said with a shaky breath. "I think so."
Mom turned in her seat to smile at me, her eyes still glassy. "You're going to do great, Maeve. We believe in you."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
The hum of the car and the steady rhythm of the road soon lulled me into silence. My bags sat beside me, neatly packed with everything I owned that felt worth taking, jeans with frayed hems, my worn notebook, and the tiny silver locket Mom had given me when I turned thirteen.
I held the locket between my fingers now, staring at the road signs whipping past, each one pulling me closer to a world I'd only dreamed of.
Somewhere along the highway, the nervous energy that had kept me buzzing all week started to fade. My eyelids grew heavy, and I fought to keep them open, not wanting to miss a single moment of the journey.
But the soft murmur of my parents' voices in the front seat and the rocking motion of the car were too much.
The last thing I saw before sleep claimed me was the distant silhouette of mountains, their peaks slicing into the sky like dark teeth.