Oh, Aus! she thought. I can call you about this, and you’ll be polite, and you’ll say the right things, but when I call you, I want it to be about us. Not this.

When I call. Was she that sure? Would she really call him?

She thought about bravery. The toughest audience on earth on the toughest subject on earth. And twelve minutes and forty seconds had just become available.

Macey could take on that audience. She could say: We can do better than stir ashes. Our true colors don’t have to be not-thinking colors. Silent colors. We do not have to stand on the side of the road in the dark, like our parents and grandparents. If we don’t drive down the road to help the guy who lost his house, he can’t go on. And if we don’t go back to Venita’s world and make sure the crayons are whole, and the sidewalks are safe, none of those little kids can go on, either.

But Macey Clare didn’t have the guts to sell grapefruit for the band. She was going to get up in front of that crowd? Oh, please. The Lisas of the world would avoid her, and every Max and Jennifer, every kid she knew, even Lindsay and Grace, would find other friends.

She mocked herself with newspaper headlines: White Girl Tries to Save World.

What would Venita do if she were here? Giggle?

Or say, What took you so long?

Or say, Girl, you think you can accomplish anything?

She thought of the power of photographs, of slides. Isaiah would take slides for her. Here’s their bathroom. Here’s our bathroom. Here’s their backyard. Here’s ours. Here’s their media center. Here’s ours. Would that be the way to handle it? With pictures? Pictures of a burning barn had certainly spoken to Austin and Macey.

Oh, Aus! she thought. How could you make me do this alone? How could you have left me here by myself?

“Mace?” said Lindsay anxiously. “Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

Lindsay was kneeling beside her. Grace was handing over a tissue. Macey had not known she was crying.

I’m not giving any speeches, thought Macey. I can’t believe I thought of it for a second. It would be insane. As long as you shut up, you get to stay friends with everybody and laugh at the in-jokes. Ashes don’t burn, friends don’t get on planes. You keep your secrets, the years pass, secrets get smaller, and you don’t care anymore. It didn’t matter anyway, you say to yourself.

“End-of-the-year syndrome,” said Lindsay sympathetically. “Have a shopping spree, I say. That solves anything.”

If only Macey had some idea how to solve anything at all.

So you be true, and you run for Venita. Use that life you have.