Batty had packed some books and downloaded some music to her phone for the train ride from New York to Boston. But she didn't read, nor did she listen.

She just stared out the window and thought for the whole four hours.

Wesley was determined. He wasn't just talking about leaving or thinking about leaving. He was going to do it. He had even suggested she go with him.

"I can't!" Batty cried.

"Of course," Wesley said. "Of course, of course, I would never pressure you. I'll just miss you, is all."

Batty had said she would miss him as well. She said she wouldn't be able to bear long distance, especially if he was on the road a lot. Wesley said he would never expect her to do long distance.

Batty had stupidly thought that maybe then he would reconsider. He had not. He was as determined as ever to go, even if he was a bit sad at the idea of saying goodbye.

So Batty had said they might as well break up now and spare themselves a long drawn-out painful process.

"If that's what you want," Wesley had said.

It wasn't what Batty wanted. It was not at all what she wanted. But she had already said it, and deep down, she knew this was the practical choice. Protect her heart. Don't waste her time.

Jane would have good counsel. Jane was an expert at affairs of the heart. Rosalind would help comfort her as well.

Only until she got to Jane, Batty was alone with her thoughts.

Batty knew it was pathetic to spend an entire train ride pining after a boy. So Batty tried to think of her classes. That was boring. She tried to think of Lydia. She imagined Lydia had grown nearly two inches since she had last seen her. She tried to think of her friends.

That was a bit depressing. Batty didn't have that many friends. She had a roommate, who had definitely not appreciated whenever Wesley visited the room late at night. So Batty had spent more than half her time at Wesley's apartment, thus hindering any bonding with her roommate. She was on good terms with the other singers in the department. And she had even been invited to a few parties by the girl who played Ado Annie in Oklahoma. She had only gone to one though. She was too busy hanging out with Wesley to socialize more. Spending a quiet evening curled up reading while Wesley sketched her had been so much more enjoyable than a party.

But now she was back to Wesley. And Wesley was soon to be gone. And Batty had wasted her freshman year of college with a boyfriend instead of forging true friendships.

Friendship was important. Batty knew this. She never would have survived high school without Lena. She would have eaten alone almost every day, and she wouldn't have had the courage to try out for any of the musicals. Lena had been her biggest fan and confidant.

At NYU, friendships could make the difference in her career. Jeffrey had told Batty when she got in that networking was just as important for musicians as talent and hardwork. All those other performers and artistic creators would someday be sources for information and auditions. Jeffrey had gone to Juilliard, and he said he wouldn't have half so many piano gigs without the help of friends from school. That was showbiz.

So not only had Batty missed out on socialization and platonic emotional support because of Wesley, she had also crippled her career before it even got off the ground.

Batty was mad now. She was past sadness, and she had moved on to anger. Why hadn't anyone told her to stop being so silly? Her sisters had all met Wesley over Christmas break, and they had done nothing but gush over how artistic he was, and how kind, and how much the dogs liked him. And how perfect he was for Batty.

Of course he was perfect for Batty. Of course he was a good person. Batty would never deny that. It was his very goodness that made the situation so painful.

Jeffrey, at least, should have warned her. Jeffrey had spent New Year's at the Penderwicks. Instead of drinking wine late into the night with Jane and Skye, he should have pulled Batty aside and told her that she had to think of her singing first and foremost. Music was her life. Jeffrey knew that. He was supposed to be her mentor, after all.

Jeffrey used to relish being her mentor. He would go out of his way to give Batty new music to try, and he would call and ask her how lessons were going. Recently, the calls had stopped. Jeffrey was busy with his own career, of course, but Batty still wondered why she didn't hear from him as much.

And then she was back to being sad about a boy all over again.