“Glory is one of those people who seems happy with the life she has. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But Nicole, she was like us.” Willa slips an arm around my shoulder. “She was destined for real greatness. She never would have settled for an everyday life. It would have destroyed her.”

There’s a hardness in her voice. A cold steeliness. “She was after something special, and you have to want that. You have to fight for it.” Something sad creeps in behind her eyes. “You have to be willing to take it. You have to—”

I’m quiet, waiting for her to finish that thought. But she seems stuck. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Willa get lost. Then that sadness passes almost as quickly as it came, and that hundred-watt smile comes back. Brighter than ever. She gives me a squeeze. “You have to be willing to take it. No matter what, Avril. You have to be willing to die for it. Or kill for it. Lie for it. Steal for it. And then you have to be prepared live with the consequences. Or all you’ll ever be is exactly what everyone else is.” She shrugs and takes her arm from around my shoulders. Turns back to her notes. “Like Glory.”

It hits me then that it would have destroyed Willa, too. For sure. Being ordinary. That when she says the only point of life is to be something extraordinary, she means that. It’s not just an inspirational line she’s feeding us. She just burns brighter than everyone else. She needs more. And she fought tooth and nail to become. To turn herself into something bigger and better and more special. Something so brilliant, it’s almost blinding.

And I guess my mother would have, too, if someone hadn’t put her light out.

If Glory hadn’t thrown her into the sea so she wouldn’t have to let her go.

I wish I had more of their fire burning inside me. I’ve always given up too easily. But not anymore. I promise myself that I won’t go home without unraveling this whole thing. No matter what the consequences of that unraveling are. I’ll pull at the tangled knots of my memories—study the clues—until I find some kind of proof. Until I can say for sure what happened all those years ago. To my mother.

To me.

But everything is moving so fast now. I don’t have much time. It’s our very last rehearsal.

The curtain goes up tomorrow evening.

Before we call it a night, Willa asks everyone to circle up. We form a ring under the stage lights. Soak up each other’s energy. Soak up Willa’s humming energy. One last time.

“This is how we leave things,” she tells us, and we exhale together. Grip each other’s hands a little tighter.

A prayerless prayer circle.