“Hey, August, congrats on the Conversion thing. I read the articles you posted. So incredible. You’re famous!”

“You found me online?” I ask.

He shrugs, proud of himself. “It wasn’t that tough. You liked one of my photos a while back and I did some digging.”

“I did?” I don’t remember that. Maybe I wanted him to find me. “But why didn’t you reach out?”

He shrugs. “You looked so happy. New fancy school. All those New York parties. I figured you didn’t need West Grove, and you didn’t need me.”

I think of my posts. So bright and cheery. Not really the most accurate representation of my life. Especially between my parents and Conversion. “I have been putting on acts for everyone,” I admit. “It’s not real.”

“It isn’t?” he asks, like it never occurred to him. “Well, your friends all look cool. Like, really cool.”

I think about my friends. And Maggie. I never showed them my true self, always acting. They showed me their real selves, even when they were messy, and I loved them more. “I’ve made some good friends, but none as good as you.”

“We go way back. I knew you before you were famous,” he says proudly. “Tell me about some of your fancy New York friends.”

“Well, my friend Meena—she reminds me of you—likes weird stuff without apology. And there’s Anna—she’s always got the gossip, and the biggest heart. Elijah, he’s the nicest guy who was in a commercial for Gushers.”

“Wait, you mean Gushers guy?”

“Yes, he’s so cool,” I say, feeling the darkness lifting. “And Juliet, who called you—she’s my fairy trans-sister.”

“That’s what I love about you, August,” he says. “You’re so good at loving people, finding interesting things about them, and accepting them for who they are. My parents are always trying to change me. And my girlfriend, too. But you never did that. You just accepted me for me, always.”

“Opposite of my parents, too,” I joke. Then I think of Aunt Lil and her pineapples. Always welcoming, even when her family wouldn’t welcome her truth. Sometimes the best things about us come from our broken places.

“Wait, girlfriend?” I ask.

He blushes. “Peggy Mitchell?”

“You did it! You got a girlfriend! I’m happy for you, Hugo. And I miss you.”

“You too, man,” he says. “Need a ride to the bus station?”

11:58 P.M.

After a long bus ride and a Lyft, I walk through my aunt’s front door, exhausted and relieved to be back.

“Welcome home,” Aunt Lil yells from the kitchen. “You have a guest.”

Juliet and Aunt Lil are sitting at the kitchen table with empty teacups.

“Hi,” I say, stunned.

“August,” Juliet says. “You didn’t tell me your aunt was Lillian Brooks.”

“You know my aunt?”

“Of course. She’s kind of famous.”