I glance at the clock. We’re minutes from closing, so I grab a cookie for myself, taking a nibble. Holy cow, it’s buttery and delicious. “I did. It wasn’t as good as the original cast, obviously, but it was still the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Duke groans. “I’m so jealous. I tried to convince Micah to make a trip down with me, but he’s saving up for school.”

I shake my head. “That darn responsible kid.”

“Right?”

“Anastasia is coming in December,” I say.

He nods. “Oh, I know. To Michigan Theater.”

“Want company? I’m not nearly as fiscally responsible as Micah.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean, we’d have to get tickets, but absolutely. I would love to have a theater buddy.”

“I’m in. Maybe Micah would even go this time with the proper motivation.” The way he eyes me makes me think I’m that motivation, but I choose to ignore it.

“Whatever, either way, you and I are going. The haters can get their own tickets.”

He laughs and tosses the rest of his cookie in his mouth, brushing the crumbs away and standing. “I should get back,” he says between chews. “Dani will need help closing up.”

“Skedaddle, then. I have mopping to do.”

He saunters off, all long legs and pointy elbows, and I can’t help the smile spreading across my face.

I’m riding the high of cementing another friendship when I get back that night and decide it’s past time to call my mom. She’s expecting me home any day, and seeing as how I unpacked my suitcase into the dresser in my shiny new bedroom, that’s definitely not happening.

For being the easiest decision of my life, I’ve had a heck of a time building up the confidence to tell my mom about it.

I scroll to her number on my phone and take several deep breaths. I perch on the edge of my bed before changing my mind and standing. I kick off my worn Converse and let my toes sink appreciatively into the lush carpet. My feet hurt from standing for so many hours in a row. It’s been never since I’ve had to do that. Is it weird that I’m happy about tired feet?

I pace, doing my breaths again, and deciding this won’t help calm me, I step outside. I shut the door behind me and walk out onto to the soft lawn James mowed this morning. The grass is cool and damp and moonlit, and I pull my old worn cardigan over my shoulders, wrapping it closed at the waist. James has a small bench between two trees that overlooks a weedy garden. I make my way to it but don’t sit and, before I can second-guess, hit Call.

Micah picks up on the first ring.