“I went online. And met a guy. He said he was a freshman at NYU. He wanted to mentor me, and I believed him, which is weird because I don’t believe anyone. Maybe I wanted to believe him. I went to his place one night and didn’t tell anyone. He lived in a tiny apartment around Union Square. He showed me his art and poured red wine. Red wine, I thought, how adult. We sat down and looked at my portfolio and talked until the wine kicked in. Then we started kissing.”

She pauses, and I take her hand. I don’t know where this is going, but it doesn’t sound good. “I told him I was trans, and he kind of lost it. He was mad.” She squeezes my hand. “He didn’t hurt me, I got out fine. But it felt like I lost a part of myself in that apartment.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I kind of retreated more into my shell. My friends”—she pauses—“our friends are pretty caught up in their own stuff. They didn’t notice that I was a ghost of myself. Then you came to school, and you needed help. And I wanted to help you on your journey. You gave me a reason to be less invisible.”

“I did?” I ask.

“You helped me, and your aunt told me how you helped her come out to her sister. Your truth isn’t your parents, or onstage, or online. Your truth is in your heart. You’re a good guy, August. You care about people and dream big. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else for people to accept you.”

I put my head down, ashamed of all the roles I have been playing.

“August,” she says, her eyes finding mine. “You have been through a lot. You need to process those feelings. You need to work through your traumas, not just stuff them away and act like everything is great. I want you to heal. Will you think about getting help?”

The way Juliet looks at me, with big eyes, wanting me to be better. “I’ll think about it,” I say.

“And if you ever have those dark feelings, will you promise to call me?”

I nod. “I promise.”

Before Juliet leaves, I call Aunt Lil downstairs.

“What? I’m in my groove.”

“Aunt Lil, I’m going to ask you a question and you have to say yes.”

“I’m not doing that,” she jokes.

“Juliet is a talented artist who needs a mentor. Someone she can trust. Will you be her mentor?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I can mentor,” she stammers.

“Can you just say yes? For me?” I beg Aunt Lil. “Juliet saved my life.”

“Yes, of course. Juliet, come over next week for tea and snacks. Are you vegan?”

“Obviously,” Juliet says.

“There you go,” I say, smiling the biggest I have all night.