Dawn bursts into laughter. “I can’t wait till we get there, so I can stalk the shit out of you.”

I don’t know if it’s my crush talking, but I feel like I’m flirting with Dawn. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so happy and carefree and like … how do I describe today? I feel like sunlight is beaming through me and all my insides are bouncing around with unbridled energy. I want to hold on to it forever. Capture it in a bottle for the next time “happy” feels impossible, so I have it in case of emergency.

Dawn yanks her phone out of the cupholder. “Should we put on some tunes and jam?”

“I’d love to jam.”

“Pick your poison.” She holds her phone up so it unlocks and hands it to me.

I pull up one of my favorites on her Spotify—“Bad Guy”—and click play. The beat immediately starts pumping through Dawn’s speakers.

“Yes!” She cranks it up, head banging to the beat. When Billie starts to sing, Dawn screams the lyrics with her.

A grin the size of a life-ending meteor smashes onto my face. It only takes me a second to join in, screaming along with her.

We hit a red light at DUH. The beat drops and we’re shouting and flailing and catching each other’s eye. The light turns green, and we jet off, laughing.

The song slows and gets sexy. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm move through me. I tap my thighs lightly. Left then right then left then right (another thing Donya was having me do every day at Rediscover last week to try to hold on to good moments, tap them in).

When the song ends, Dawn turns down the stereo. “Amazing album.”

I stare at her for a moment and nod. “The best.”

“Siri,” Dawn starts, her tone more grounded now. “Why did you agree to do this switch? Like I get it—she’s really convincing and you can get swept up in a Jamie adventure, and you’re mad at your mom, but there must have been something you wanted out of it too. What’s your big incentive here? Is there something other than getting to know Grier?”

“I … need to figure out where I go next. My future felt … feels like an empty soul-sucking abyss without ballet. I didn’t want to go back home without a new direction.”

“So you’re in the market for a new dream job?”

I shrug. “I guess. It sounds fun when you put it that way.”

“I can help with that. I’m great at pitching ideas. When I think of a career path, do you want me to throw it at you?” Kindness and humor twirl through her words. We slow to a stop at another red light.