Claire didn’t mind being behind the scenes. In fact, she preferred it. The only time she had stood alone on a stage was last year, when her fifth-grade teacher had asked her to read out loud the opening remarks at the elementary school graduation ceremony. All week long, Claire had been plagued with nightmares: What if she tripped? What if she messed up? What if everyone laughed at her? The seventh time Claire asked the same question, Sophie had let out an exasperated sigh and said to just imagine everyone in their pajamas.

“How’s that supposed to help?” Claire had asked.

Sophie had shrugged lazily from where she’d been lounging across the old floral armchair. “No idea. I don’t get stage fright! It’s just what I’ve heard you’re supposed to tell people.”

And when the moment finally arrived and Claire had to walk to the podium, she’d looked out into the auditorium and seen … nothing. The lights had been too bright. So instead of picturing the crowd in their pj’s, she just imagined she was talking only to Sophie. That was what got her through it.

Afterward, Sophie had said, “See, it was easy, wasn’t it?”

Claire had looked at her sister, wondering what it would be like if being brave came as naturally for her as it did for her sister.

But, looking back on it now, she had been brave, hadn’t she? She’d done the thing she’d been terrified of.

The memory gave Claire confidence as she followed Kleo through a side door leading them up onto the stage, behind the backdrop curtains, where all the sets were in various phases of construction. Colorful chaos ruled backstage, and Claire and Kleo had to dodge bolts of fabric and assistants dashing around until they reached the far corner of a wing. From here, Claire could be left alone and still watch all that was happening. Near her, a group of younger girls including Lyric giggled as bits of ribbon twisted around their legs like friendly cats and boys made silly faces at one another as they stretched, warming up their muscles.

Onstage, through a series of side curtains, Claire could see the older kids rehearsing, raising their legs high above their heads before dipping down again, always in perfect unison. Though she couldn’t see the musicians in the orchestra pit that sat in front of the stage, she could make out the tops of their heads and a conductor’s wand waving in rhythm.

Making sure Claire had all she needed, Kleo left, promising to come back soon.

Claire picked up a brush and looked at the paints. There was a jar of cerulean, the same color as the water in Needle Pointe’s bay, and another jar brimming with an iridescent white. It reminded her of Mom’s mother-of-pearl earrings and …

A shot of light across a midnight plain.