Part of me wants to tell her it’s far too late and much too little, but Kenzie’s face, a softened version of the one who exposed me backstage months ago, stops me. After all, who am I to begrudge second chances?

I shake my head and tell her the past is the past. “You’re here now.”

Kenzie tells me I’m going to do great before she walks away, Sage at her side practically skipping the whole way.

Before I go backstage, Cora takes roughly twenty pictures in a row until my cheeks hurt from smiling. She pauses and reaches out like she’s about to adjust my wig but seems to change her mind.

“It’s perfect,” she says, and then hugs me so tight it almost hurts, but in a good way. Tony taps me on the shoulder, half bowing to Cora and Glenn, clearly trying not to have an opening-night coronary.

“I know she’s your daughter, but tonight, she’s my Glinda, and I need her backstage prontissimo.”

“Oh, no, these aren’t my—” I start to correct him, but stop midsentence. Cora’s camera is poised in midair with Glenn’s arm around her. “These are my people.”

Before I go, I remind Cora to save Piper’s seat.

“She’ll be here,” I say, more to myself than anyone.

Complete mayhem reigns backstage. A half-dressed Tin Man barrels past me, yelling about face makeup. The Wicked Witch can’t find her broom, and Toto, our live prop, has run off after relieving himself on the Scarecrow.

From behind the curtains, I peek out, my heart racing at the sight of the jam-packed theater. I run my fingers over the soft satin of my dress again, and then run them across the bumps of my face.

Asad finds me there, gripping the black curtain.

“Earth to Ava.” He waves his hand between my eyes and the audience. “You okay? You’ve got that ‘help, I’m drowning’ look going on.”

His voice brings me slightly back into orbit. He’s black-clad from head to toe, including a black headset that screams CIA agent or employee of the month at the Gap. He holds a box with a big pink bow.

“I’m kind of freaking out,” I say.

“Well, this probably won’t help, but a certain tattoo artist with an atrocity of a man bun is here.”

“He came?” I search the crowd. Cora spots me and holds up her camera, pointing to her smile. Piper’s seat sits vacant beside her. From the back row, Gabriel gives a half-wave.

“Why, Ava Lee. You surprising little minx,” Asad says. “You totally invited him.”

“What?” I try to say it nonchalantly despite Asad’s suggestive grin. “He was nice. He likes theater.”