She’d given all her blood, sweat, and tears to her work—and yes, most of what was left of her trust fund. So when the play opened to terrible reviews (“A meandering disaster that doesn’t know what it’s trying to be”) and folded in two weeks’ time, she was left with nothing but people to pay and a humiliating professional failure.

She’d bet on the wrong horse, so to speak. The show had so much promise—she’d been so sure it would be a huge hit. She’d been so wrong.

Worse, everyone in the theatre world now knew that she was a failure—there was a huge article about it in Backstage magazine. A cautionary tale of sorts.

“Former Child Star’s Directorial Debut Is This Year’s Worst.”

At least she could take comfort in the fact that her grandparents didn’t read Backstage.

She supposed it was the one blessing in GrandPop’s dying when he did. He never found out she’d lost everything with her poor business decisions or her short-lived creative endeavors. He’d never known just how incompetent his granddaughter was, even after years of watching him make millions with his savvy business sense.

But that was over now. Now, sitting on the ferry next to her new best friend, Andrew, Emily screwed her eyes shut and willed herself to stop thinking about Max, her failures, her grandparents, and her empty bank account.

She wasn’t sure which of those things would be most difficult to put out of her head. All of them seemed to have her attention at any given point of the day. She supposed that’s what happened when you hit rock bottom. You wasted a lot of time replaying your mistakes, trying to figure out if there was any way to undo them in order to right your own ship.

So far, she’d found no indication such a solution existed. She only knew that when you found yourself at rock bottom, it would be nice to see a hand offering to pull you up.

For her, there was no hand, and that was maybe the worst part of all.

“You’re humming again.” It was Andrew. Earnest Andrew and his big brown eyes.

“Don’t grow up to be a jerk, okay, Andrew?” Emily said absently.

Andrew’s mother frowned.

“Sorry,” Emily said. “Sometimes I say inappropriate things.”

“Kenton does that too. One time he spent the whole day talking about poo.” Andrew’s face was so serious Emily couldn’t help but laugh.

He smiled at her. “What’s your imaginary friend’s name?”

“I don’t see much of her anymore,” Emily said. “But her name was Kellen.”

“Kellen,” Andrew said. “Kellen and Kenton. I bet they’re friends.”