Amelia,

When I overheard the great N. E. Endsley being soothed by a girl in sparkling tights at CCBF, I caught her as she was leaving and offered to send her a signed copy of an Orman book. I figured I owed her for not taking advantage of Nolan in such a vulnerable state. She asked if I could send it to her best friend instead, the one who introduced her to the books. She gave me the address of the local bookstore (she wasn’t keen on handing out a home address to a complete stranger) and said she’d make sure her friend received it.

I should have told you I was the one who sent the book when you called the store or when you left to go back to Dallas. I didn’t tell you because I felt guilty for bringing you—unintentionally, but still responsible—to Lochbrook, like I had accidentally summoned a fangirl demon to haunt my friend.

He had been even less himself since the festival (I think he felt defeated) but sometimes I would catch him staring out the window and I knew his mind was somewhere else and I couldn’t go there to fetch him back.

But you could, Amelia. You gathered up your army of kindness and empathy and marched through his darkness to bring back my friend when I could not.

Jenna would be proud of you. So very proud. I know, because I am so proud of Nolan, even if he sometimes acts like an idiot.

I thought you should have these—your photographs are just like you: They capture something only you know how to retrieve.

Whatever you decide, should you wish it, there will always be a job and—my mother said to mention—a bedroom with its very own sink waiting for you in Lochbrook. I have taken the liberty of enclosing a few photography programs in the area.

Forgive me for not telling you the whole truth, Amelia.

Forgive him for not writing to tell you he misses you himself.

Astra inclinant, sed non obligant,

Alex

P. S. Please read the packing paper. But don’t ever, ever tell him I took them from his secret room, or he’ll ban me from using the WiFi. Or stab me with a ridiculous bejeweled sword.

I smooth out a piece of crumpled paper I assumed was only there to protect the box’s contents. I don’t expect to see line after line of Nolan’s messy, frustrated scrawl.

Amelia, I miss

Dearest Amelia

My dear Amelia

Amelia

This wasn’t in our sketchbook

Dear Amelia,

Wally misses you.

I can’t see the whales when you’re not here