“He’s everything I want to be,” I admit. “Since I was a kid, I’ve known about him. To learn from him, at the right hand…”

There’s something in her gaze I don’t recognize.

“… I mean, he’s everything.”

“You’re everything,” she blurts out.

My skin flushes. Too many words flood the tip of my tongue. I’m sorry. I love you. You’re everything, too. But also not everything … I’m confused. I want you. I want this.

Kimberly rolls off the bed, away from me. “You’re amazing. You’ll be so much more and better than Al ever could be. Of course you should go national.” She crosses to the dresser, where she keeps her jewelry and perfume and makeup.

“I know there’s a lot to talk about.”

“It’s Alabaster Sloan,” she says. “What else is there to talk about?” She pulls a pre-moistened cloth—it looks like a baby wipe—from a small plastic pouch.

“I mean…” talk about us. Or … do we not need to? Can she just watch me go like that? I thought we were … Doesn’t she care?

Kimberly runs the cloth over her face, cleaning it of her makeup. When it’s all off, her eyes look smaller, less defined. The rest of her face looks exactly the same to me.

“So … you think I should take it?”

My iPad is still open on my knees. I touch the screen to brighten it back up. Kimberly switches off the overhead light and Sloan’s offer screams up at me in the dark.

A few moments pass, while she fusses with tissues by the dresser. She blows her nose.

The mattress dips under Kimberly’s weight. “You want the whole world,” she whispers. Her voice is thick, and I realize maybe she’s crying. “And you can have it. You’re so good.”

“We should talk.”

“Sure.” She sniffs. “But I know you’re going to take it.”

When she snuggles against me, I’m confused again. “We should talk,” I repeat.

“We should rest,” she says.

“Maybe it’s better to talk in the morning,” I suggest. “If you’ll let me stay.”

“Of course you can stay,” she says. “I want you to stay.”

There’s so much weight to her words that I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore.

We slip under the covers. My mind is humming. It takes a while to calm it down. When I’m finally close to sleep, a stray thought drifts through my mind. Did she call him Al?

DEVANTE

“Let’s giddyup and go,” Robb says. “T, you ready?”

“Tyrell,” Tyrell says, rather sternly. He shoulders his backpack. “I’m ready.”

Sheesh. We’ve got six hours in the car ahead of us, and I’ve got a playlist fully programmed. All kinds of music. Hopefully some of which will help Tyrell become less of a wet blanket.

I bump his shoulder. “It’s cool. This is gonna be fun.”

“Road trip! Road trip! Road trip!” Robb chants, pumping his fist. Tyrell and I roll our eyes. At least we’re together on that.