Cole kisses me then. Soft and gentle, and with so much tenderness. And I feel it all the way down in the deepest, most hidden parts of my heart. So I know that I’m alive, too.

And finally I let myself sleep.

With the lights on.

The last thing I hear before I slip away is Cole humming that melody in my ear.

Eden’s lullaby.

A song for a drowned girl.

ACT III: SCENE 4

It’s early morning when Cole wakes me up. I’m confused. I don’t understand why we’re in the library. But then I remember everything about last night. And it’s like being knocked down by a big wave at the beach.

We walk back to the blue cabins together, and Cole kisses me again. Says he’ll see me later. He doesn’t mention anything about his mom. Her sleepwalking last night. And he doesn’t tell me I’m crazy. That his father isn’t a killer. He just brushes the clinging hair back from my face and promises me that everything will be okay. But it’s a promise I don’t really believe.

I don’t see Willa all morning or all afternoon. She doesn’t pop in to the cafeteria to wave at me. She doesn’t stick her head in the door and ask me to bring my lunch to the sea porch.

But when I get to the theatre for rehearsal that evening, she’s standing in the middle of the stage, staring up into the rafters of the barn. I’m lingering in the doorway with Lex and Val and Jude, and Jude finally coughs to let her know we’re there. Willa turns and beams at us—at me—like nothing happened last night. I wonder if maybe she doesn’t remember pulling those books off the shelves in the darkened library.

She waves us in. “Come on, my lovelies, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover this week.” She’s gorgeous tonight. Glowing. Long, dark hair and the jangle of silver bracelets. All lit up by the stage lights. There’s no hint of the woman who sat slumped on the floor, surrounded by jumbled scripts and papers.

Cole slips in just as we’re beginning. He finds a spot a few chairs away from me, but I can still feel him.

It’s Monday night. The beginning of week three. We’re just over halfway to the finish line, and I don’t know how to feel about that. There’s still so much I need to figure out. And it all seems so impossibly tangled and confusing. I’m worried that there isn’t enough time left. And I have no idea what happens after this.

I can’t imagine going back to Texas and picking up where I left off. I’m not that girl anymore.