So really, my secret plan isn’t my secret plan at all. It’s Ruth’s. But the idea of doing the same Treasure Hunt again as we go back across the country came into my mind like a gift. Because even though there were hard things about moving, we had each other. She’s the one who sat by me every night while we moved away from everything familiar and played me music while we looked at my pictures. And Ruth doesn’t even have to know I’m doing the Treasure Hunt, not at first, because I’ve got my camera. I can subtly take photos of Ruth at every stop, finding ways to replicate as perfectly as possible the images from the first time around. Look at the pictures I took of you, I’ll tell her at the end. I’ll surprise her with the pictures, and when she sees them, she’ll know. And for the last and final picture—our Something Gold—we can have Ellie or Eddie take a picture of us holding not moving boxes, but our Treasure Box.

We had each other then, and I want her to know that we still do.

Look at all the magic and gold treasures we’ve found, I’ll say.

Olivia’s Treasure Hunt Surprise. That thought makes me chuckle to myself.

Ruth planned the previous Treasure Hunt based on the major cities we were going to be passing through, dividing the clues among them. I’ve done the same, and was pretty excited when I realized that Something New would coincide with our first major stop: New Orleans. And now we’re on our way.

I lean farther out from my loft, trying to get Ruth’s attention. I try to think of something to say to her, a question to ask, just as an excuse to check in. Checking in is the only thing I can think to do to help. The only thing I’ve ever known to do. To make sure she’s not getting sucked into her own little earbud world too badly.

I run my camera strap through my fingers and wonder what image could capture the time before it felt like our treasure was floating farther and farther away.

“Ruth,” I say.

She pulls a knee up to her chest and ignores me, but I know she can hear me.

“Ruth,” I say louder.

She yanks an earbud out of her ear. “Stop, Olivia. Yes, I’m fine. No, I don’t care how many new followers you have on Instagram. Or whatever else it is you’re going to ask me. Just leave me alone for two seconds.” She puts the earbud back in and slides deeper into her bed.