Val laughs. “That’s life in the theatre, baby.”

“That’s life, period,” I say, and everyone agrees.

The four of us head back toward the cabins together. It’s dark, but there’s no fog tonight. At least not yet. And the dark doesn’t bother us. Theatre people have a special ability to peer into the blackness and walk through it to the other side. I guess that’s a talent that comes from finding our way offstage during the scene changes.

Before we say good night, Lex hugs me hard. I stiffen up, because I’m not really a hugger. But I don’t pull away, because I know he’d be hurt. And also because I need that closeness tonight. Now that everything is out in the open, he says, maybe it’ll help me remember. I tell him that I hope he’s right, and I can’t help noticing the way Jude hangs back to wait for him. How they smile at each other. The way their shoulders touch as they walk into the dark together.

At least one of us is already on his way to becoming the person he wants to be. So maybe there’s hope for me, too.

Val and I climb the cabin steps, and I glance over my shoulder toward the farmhouse. I catch sight of Cole. He’s sitting on the railing, bathed in the dirty yellow glow of the porch light. The expression on his face is unreadable. And I’m too far away to see his eyes. But I raise my hand in a little wave, and he waves back. I watch him toss a shining piece of sea glass into the air. Catch it in his palm.

Heads or tails.

I wonder what he’ll think when he finds out who I really am.

I follow Val inside and ignore the other girls’ stares while I get ready for bed. I’m exhausted, and I fall asleep even before someone switches off the overhead light.

But sometime after midnight, an old nightmare finds me. I’m crouched in the dark, and the stars are falling into the sea.

Plop. Plop. Plop.

Look at the stars, a voice tells me. And I want to look, but I can’t. Because I’m suddenly blind. The burning brightness hurts my eyes, so I squeeze them closed. And I’m cold. So, so, so cold. My wrist aches, and my feet have turned to blocks of ice. My teeth chatter so hard they hurt.

The lonesome moan of the foghorn wakes me up, and I’m still freezing. Shivering in my bed. Those words echo in my ears.

Look at the stars.