As we take off, the girl whips her hand behind us and, unable to help myself, my gaze follows its trajectory. It’s an odd kind of wave she’s offering him—hand clenched and one lone finger proudly pointing at the Merit prince. I like the rebellious look of it and pitch my own version in his direction. She laughs. “Do you have any idea what that gesture means?” “Goodbye, you hateful prick?” “That’s a very good guess.”
