I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck with my left hand. “You know it. But what about you? You’re singing?”

“Yeah, they’re having some kind of hoity-toity Grand Opening banquet for the board of trustees in June. Supposedly the Governor’s going to be there. They want me to play and sing.” She wiggled her fingers, miming the keyboard again. “I think they only invited me because of my parents. Mom is one of their donors.”

“Come on. You know that had nothing to do with it. You’re one of the most talented musicians in Tierra Nueva. How do you think you got into Herschel?”

She looked down, her long brown hair hiding her face, but I thought her ear looked sort of red. It was hard to tell in the near-darkness. “Well, I’d argue my moms again, but it’s nice to have a vote of confidence. I hope I don’t blow it.”

“You won’t. You’ll be stellar, for sure.”

Tamara’s toes dug into the silty sand, so fine that it was more like dust, really. She kept her gaze fixed on her feet as she said, “Do you want to come? With me? To the opening? I mean, not only to hear me sing, there’s the exhibit and stuff, too. They’ve got some Olmec artifacts, they might even have some of your grandpa’s…”

My heart jumped. I could barely hear my own voice over its hammering. “Of course I’ll come. Not… not only for the exhibit. For you.” Oh, Cristo, did I really just say that? Could I be any more embarrassing?

But then she grinned at me, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

Tamara leaned back on her hands. “So. What were you saying earlier? You thought you’d seen an arch like that before?”

I flushed. For a minute, I thought about telling her to forget it—it was stupid and crazy. I knew that. But deep down, a little, tiny piece of me wanted to hear someone tell me that I wasn’t crazy. That maybe my mom was the one who was wrong, and that there really was more to that box of Dad’s than a simple collection of Earth junk.

I shifted, digging down into my pocket to pull the coin out. “It’s probably stupid, but I thought it looked like this.”

I handed her the coin. She shifted onto her knees, holding the coin up to examine it in the glow of the fluorescent lamps on the wharf behind us. She squinted as she turned it over and back. “It does look the same. Look at the way the stones are stacked.”

“Right?” Eagerly, I scooted closer. “I mean, it’s probably just a coincidence, but still.”

She’d flipped the coin over again and was frowning at the markings on the reverse. “Where did you find this, again?”