“Mae, you know I can’t do advanced calculus.”

“Dad says two heads are better than one.”

Nah smiles. “He was wrong about the most important things, but he was right about that.”

A bit of sunlight hits the little diamond around her neck, and I think about Isaac Newton, bending white light through a prism, discovering that all the colors are inside the light, even if we can’t see them all the time. There’s so much that’s sitting right in front of us that we can’t see.

I touch the tip of my finger to the diamond. “Do you miss him?”

“So much,” she says.

“Then why, Nah?”

“He can’t be what fills me up, you know? I have to be okay with just me. I can’t think about boys right now. I need a break.”

I nod. “Same. My meditation teacher talked about that. The hungry ghosts I told you about. How we try to fill ourselves with other people, but it doesn’t help.”

“Jo did, too. Ha! The sisterhood strikes again. She’s on this whole self-love kick. Her ancestor, like, chilled with Thoreau.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Crazy.”

I like Jo. I got to meet her when she dropped Nah off after their first meeting, and she reminds me of River. She gives it to you straight.

“Sit up,” Nah says. “I want to give you your Christmas present.”

We sit up.

“Should I go get yours? It’s under the tree.”

I went out on a limb this year: Despite all better judgment, I went to Salem with Nate and bought Hannah many witchy supplies. It was embarrassing shelling out cold, hard cash for crystals, but I love my sister.

“I can wait. This can’t.” She reaches into her coat pocket and hands me a piece of folded notebook paper. Her nails, like mine, are all different colors. We gave each other breakup nails, just like Mom did for me when Riley left.

I raise an eyebrow. “Hannah. You shouldn’t have.”

She laughs. “Shut up. Open it.”

I unfold the paper. On it, in her messy handwriting, it says:

3468 Beacon Street

10:00 AM

January 5

I look up at her. “Um?”

“I called Annapolis. Your interview is on the fifth. Don’t wear the pineapple thing.”

I grip the paper. “Nah. I told you, I’m not—”

“When I look up at the sky, I need to know someone I love is up there, looking down at me.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “We’ll always be together, Buzz. Even if we’re a million miles apart—to infinity and beyond.”

Her eyes are clear and shining. There is color in her cheeks. The fire in the center of the globe bursting through her. Through me.

Is this really happening?

Is it okay for me to go?

“I don’t want you to be alone,” I say.

“You giving up your dream for me fucks with my serenity.”