“We can hang later. If you want … and you can fill me in on all the ludicrous details of what just happened.”

I nod like an overeager intern. “Okay. Yes, I’d like that. Thanks, Dawn. You’re like … really cool.”

She nods once. “I know I am, thank you.”

I make my way up to Jamie’s room and carefully lie on her bed, feeling jittery and excited. Dawn wants to get to know me.

I jolt back upright. I never told Jamie about the Timothée Chalamet gig.

It’s tomorrow.

I draft out a text and hesitate with my finger over the send button.

Me: Bucket, huge news, call me ASAP.

What if Jamie asks me to switch back?

I’m not ready to go back yet, and based on my reflection right now, I’m pretty sure I still look like her to everyone other than Dawn.

A bell goes off in my brain: Tell just one, they’ll see the light.

That’s a line from the poem. That’s what happened! Which means we still have three more days with the glamour magic.

And Jamie can’t be Jamie tomorrow. So sending this text without a plan is going to cause unneeded Jamie panic.

I backspace the text and climb over to the computer where my email draft to Dad is still waiting to go out. I BCC Jamie and press send. At least I did that.

No one appears to be home downstairs so I head into the kitchen and take out a bunch of ingredients from a recipe I looked up last night on the computer.

As I’m sleuthing around thinking about Jamie, Timothée Chalamet, and Dawn, an idea strikes. I send Dawn a quick text.

Me: I’m so sorry! I know you said you needed space, I don’t mean to be a clingy annoying person, but I kind of have an SOS. Can you possibly come over for dinner tonight? No one’s here. I’m cooking!

She responds quickly.

Dawn: Can you cook it over here?

49. A Girl Is Questioning Everything

JAMIE

September 4, Friday Night

New Jersey

The train back to Jersey jangles wildly past another stop. Earlier I chucked Siri’s scary white shoes and bought myself some red boots with our mom’s credit card that Siri has permission to use for groceries and emergencies.

’Twas a vomit emergency.

Whilst shopping, I received three more compliments on my “gorgeous long hair.” It would appear that Zarar is the only one who can see through the damn mirage magic.

I grabbed sustenance and headed back to QCZ for the 7 p.m. show. It was fun, but I had trouble actually enjoying it knowing that Dawn was over in California wanting nothing to do with me.