No matter what happens, no matter who lets me down, no matter where I end up, no matter what mess I get myself into, God will provide a way out.

He’s my compass.

I release a slow breath, surprised at the emotion constricting my throat at the image on my skin. I nod, coughing a little. “It’s perfect.”

Ryder slaps my shoulder. He and I go back a little bit. We were in high school at the same time, though he graduated when I was a freshman. He used to be my youth group leader back when I went to church. Back when we both did. Which is why I went to him with this. I knew that out of everyone, he would get it. And for some reason, that felt important.

Even if I kept leaving without doing it.

But I’m not leaving today. I lean my head back against the headrest as I hear the needle turn on. Today, I’m making my mark.

The following weekend, it’s Halloween. I don’t go out on Halloween as a rule. But Emily is having a house party at her new place, and she invited all of us to come. “Costumes only, Micah,” she insisted. “Don’t you dare come in your North Face and try that whole ‘I’m a Coloradoan hipster’ thing again.”

What? It was a good costume. Everyone got it, and it was free.

Anyway, it wouldn’t have mattered. Meg has never celebrated Halloween in her life, and for that reason, Duke and I decided that we had to do it right.

“I can’t believe you never dressed up for Halloween,” Duke says, sitting on my couch and yelling through the door of the bathroom, where Meg is changing. He’s wearing a neon purple zoot suit that clashes with his teal hair and is polishing a pair of pointy black-and-white wing tips.

“When I was in third grade, our church did a trunk-or-treat in the parking lot. I got to dress up as one of the fruits of the spirit!” she yells. I am buttoning up my dress shirt and trying to figure out the superlong, super fat tie that comes with the costume but am brought up short by her announcement.

“Which one?”

“Is this a church thing?” Duke stage-whispers. I nod, grinning.

“You get three guesses,” she says, opening the door with a flourish. Duke lets out a low whistle, but I … can’t move. I’ve forgotten what words are at the sight of Meg in a shimmery, short, silver flapper dress. She does a little old-fashioned twist, causing the layers of glittery fringe to swing around her, and pops a hip out, fluffing her short hair with her hand. She’s wearing a black headband with a gaudy feather on it but somehow manages to make it look good.