It was after that that we’d drifted, wasn’t it? It was the next day that I’d decided to become a serious ten-year-old, take up Mom’s practice schedule, give up anything that wasn’t music. Even my best friend.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Jules went on. “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got it permanently easy in all sorts of mind-blowing ways. But I don’t think I’m jealous of you anymore.”

I burst out laughing. “Thanks!”

“I’m dead serious. I thought my life was a trap? Good Lord—your family. This world of yours.”

“Of theirs.”

“You can’t get out of it, can you? Except, hey now . . .” Jules pointed at me until she was booping my nose. “You did.”

“Going down south? I . . .”

“When you said no. When you said fuck this letter, I’m not going to your bullshit school as a publicity stunt, hell to the no.”

Now I couldn’t stop laughing.

“It must have felt kind of good, right? Making a decision like that.”

“It was hard. It hurt, but . . . yeah. It was satisfying.”

“So maybe it’s not so much about jealousy. Maybe you just need to keep standing up and saying hell no. I mean—that’s an impact, right? Knowing what you want? Acting on it?”

Her expression clouded. I wondered if she was thinking about her own career goals. I was just about to say so when she jerked her thumb westward.

“Which brings me to this guy.”

Oscar. My brain blurred again with the thought of him.

“I like Oscar, actually. And that is relatively rare. But . . .” Jules winced. “And bear with me here . . . do you feel like your life is becoming a sublevel of his life? Like you’re his basement apartment?”

“I mean, yes? But again, I don’t know if it’s his fault.”

“If you took up birdwatching, what would he do?”

I blinked.

Jules whapped me. “Stop, I think about this a lot—what would he do? How would he react?”

“He would . . .” I smiled slowly, remembering him picking a favorite tree. “Honestly, even if he thought it was ludicrous, he’d get his own set of binoculars and go out into the wilderness with me. And then he’d write a symphony about it.”

My mind jumped to my family. Apart from Alice, would any of them be able to take their blinders off long enough to root for me in another field?

But there was something wistful about Jules’s nod. I had to ask.

“What about Ty?”

“He would resent birds for the rest of his life,” she said simply. “He would mock them wherever he went. Like, ‘Look at that stupid blue jay, think you’re so special.’”

I had to admit, that was a pretty good imitation of Tyler.

“Like I said,” she sighed. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”

“You should break up with him.”