Juliet gives me a hug. “See, August, you have a big heart—lead with that. No act needed.”

I nod. She’s right.

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Three

Sunday, October 27

11:50 A.M.

Knocking wakes me. Aunt Lil opens the door and smiles. “Hey, kiddo, just wanted to check up on you.”

“I don’t feel great,” I admit.

“I brought you a bran and quinoa muffin,” she says.

“That’s supposed to help?” I kid.

She sets the plate down beside me and sits down on the bed. “Want to talk?”

“I feel . . .” I pause. “I feel like I don’t have a family.”

“Well, now I feel like crap,” she says.

“I feel lost without my parents. Maybe I was only performing for them. Maybe I should quit acting.”

“Oh, August,” she says. “If I painted to make other people happy, I’d be doing watercolors of ponds and ducks. We create for ourselves.”

I shake my head. Rub my eyes. “I acted to not be myself.”

“Well, it’s time to flip the script.” Her eyes light up. “Look at that pun.”

“I don’t know who I am.”

“You’re August Freaking Greene.”

“And I don’t know who that is. Not really. I’ve played characters for my mom, for my friends, teachers, everyone.”

“Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Why don’t you journal about it? That’s what people suggest to me, and I never do it. But maybe you could try. Who is August?”

I nod. “Like a character study?”

“Sure, I don’t know, but sounds good.”

“I could try,” I say. I don’t have plans for today. Well, ignoring my tower of homework and running my monologue before tomorrow’s make-or-break rehearsal.

Aunt Lil stands up. “I’m headed to brunch with D. We’ll be back in a couple hours. Will you be all right?”

I poke at the muffin—it doesn’t look good. “I’ll probably starve, but I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me, or if you think about going to Pennsylvania.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s my job,” she says.

I grab my notebook from my desk—reachable from my bed, thanks to the close quarters of New York living—and open to a blank page. I’ve never done a character study.

I stare at the page until I hear the front door shut. The place is all mine now. I close my notebook and bring it downstairs. I can think better once I’ve eaten. While rummaging in the kitchen for anything edible, I open the cabinet over the refrigerator—the one with the medicine—in hopes of finding a stash of Halloween candy. But now it’s empty. All the medicine removed. I shut the door like I just got caught. Panic washes over me. Did Aunt Lil hide the pills because of me? Does she not trust me now?