I’ve landed on … a bit of a wild contingency plan. Instead of going home, I go back to California with Jamie for a bit, get to know her better, and pull myself together. She alluded to her plan including travel, so if that gets me out of New Jersey, great. If it doesn’t, I’ll convince her to take me home with her.

I shift my weight nervously from foot to foot as Jamie approaches the trails. She’s four minutes late.

Please have a good plan.

“Hey hey hey!” Jamie shouts when she’s within twenty feet.

Today she’s wearing turquoise overalls with a rainbow tie-dye cropped T-shirt underneath. She still has a giant bandage secured over her left eye. And she’s wearing a dumb floppy sun hat.

“Your hat is stupid,” I yell.

She shoots me a cheery thumbs-up. “It’s Terry’s!”

“It’s stupid. Why are you wearing it?” I shout.

She’s closing in on me now. “Gotta protect my stupid face from the stupid sun. Have you heard of it?” She points to the sky.

I squint as she comes to a stop in front of me. “You haven’t worn a hat this entire time, and today you’ve decided your face is too precious for the light?”

She grins harder. “Yep.”

I open my mouth and close it.

Jamie inclines her head expectantly. “Is there another insult in there you want to let out?”

“No,” I huff. Insulting her is exhausting. I switch gears. “Do you still have a sister-bonding plan that involves travel?”

Jamie steps past me toward the trails. “Indeed, grasshopper.”

I follow after her. “Okay, because I truly cannot fathom seeing Mom right now. I can’t get on a plane back to New Jersey. I can’t, Jamie! Donya and I have been discussing the prospect of working in other areas of the dance world, but I can’t imagine it. It hurts. It makes the gaping hole in my gut yawn open even wider than it already is. Donya tried to pitch me teaching ballet to little kids! First of all, I have no patience, and second of all, I can’t. Ballet and I just broke up, I can’t step back into her world. We also discussed costume design, and choreography—imagining holding those positions without actually being able to dance myself is mortifying. It’s a nightmare situation, it’s—”

Jamie spins around and I stop short six inches from her face. “This is the longest I’ve ever heard you speak without sighing, yelling, or rolling your eyes.”

I frown. “You’ve known me for six days.”

“And four years.”

“They don’t count,” I say, falling into step behind her as she starts up again.

“Disagree.”