I’d noticed Ruth’s bad days for a while, even for a short time before the move. I’d started trying to learn the signs. But that was the first day I saw the real battle with herself deep in her eyes, in her shoulders and hands. That was the first night I saw how desperately hard she was trying.

I can’t know what kind of effort it took, but as the movie started, Ruth nudged my side with her elbow. “Happy birthday, punk.”

The RV smells of oranges when I wake up, and I can feel the rumble of the road underneath me. Through shut eyelids I register the brightness and I can hear the murmur of Ellie and Eddie’s quiet conversation. There is a line of sweat along my sternum where I’ve clutched my stuffed killer whale all night.

A Journey song comes on the radio, so soft I can barely hear it, but I lie and listen and let myself keep my eyelids shut. I once heard a professional photographer on YouTube say that she spends some time every day with her eyes closed so she can keep her mental lens fresh. So I do that too.

And then I’m ready to find the perfect picture.

I roll away from the window and look out from my loft. Ruth is in her bed, with her iPod and a magazine.

We’re going to be getting to New Orleans later today.

Something New, here we come.

Last time, our Something New day was in Las Cruces, New Mexico. We found murals that had recently been put up at Lions Park, with a big banner across the top that said, NEW INSTALLATION SPONSORED BY LAS CRUCES PARKS AND RECREATION. I pointed to the sign and said, “New! That’s perfect!” Then I took pictures of Ruth jumping as high as she could right under the big green letters of NEW, her arms flung up high in the air. Throughout our day at the park, Ruth jotted down song ideas and built up a “Something New” playlist. That night we huddled on her motel room bed and listened to the songs—songs like “Brand New Key” and “New World Man”—and I showed her all my pictures, especially the jumping shots.

Later on, I printed out the best one. I wonder if she knows I still have it.

I don’t think it’s going to be hard at all to find cool new street art of some kind in New Orleans. Plus New is right in the city’s name, so it probably won’t even be hard to find somewhere for another jump shot of Ruth right under the word, just like before.

I roll onto my side and the loft creaks and Ellie looks up at me. “You awake, Olivia?” she says. She leans back and smiles. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great!”

“We got more oranges and yogurt,” she says.