Tressa squints. Brandy stares at me. But not in an angry way. She looks sad, actually.

“It’s okay, Michael,” I say. “I don’t care if they come if you and Aimee are okay with it.”

“After everything they did?” he asks. “Are you kidding me?”

I shrug. “That stuff happened earlier in the summer. It just doesn’t matter anymore,” I say, feeling stronger. Knowing that I have real friends who have my back and will protect my feelings—people like Aimee, Michael, and Ronan—makes all the difference. Brandy and Tressa going backstage won’t change any of that.

Michael’s still not convinced.

“Besides,” I say, “Tressa came to my house and gave me my kitten, Boots. And that made me pretty happy.”

Brandy whips her head around. “What?” She turns to Tressa. “You did?”

Tressa shrugs. “Yeah. Whatever. Can we come or not? I didn’t know this was going to be a committee.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Brandy asks her.

Tressa looks away. “It’s not like I have to tell you everything.”

The look that falls over Brandy’s face tells me that Tressa doesn’t protect her feelings, either.

Watching Brandy, I realize this makes me wish I could have kept her from changing this summer. Kept her from doing all the things that she did. And didn’t do. And then I think of my mom and wish I could keep her from doing the things she does. The things that made her leave and keep her away. It really is true that you can control other people about as easily as you can control the weather.

Aimee takes Michael by the shoulders and moves him over. “C’mon,” she says. “Whoever is coming. C’mon.” And with that, we all follow her up the stairs and into the playhouse.

Chapter 45

THE ONES WHO STAY

The costume room backstage in the playhouse is the coolest thing ever. Like the rest of the theater, it is wallpapered with old posters from shows throughout the history of the playhouse. It’s filled with a mixture of gorgeous gowns and costumes from different time periods.

Aimee walks up to a door that says GERTRUDE LAWRENCE DRESSING ROOM and spins around. “This is my dressing room.” She swings open the door, and there is a picture of a woman in one of those fancy dresses that is so big that it arrives a minute before the lady does. In front of the picture is a small shelf with a vase full of blue hydrangeas. “That is Gertrude Lawrence,” Aimee tells us. “She died on opening night of The King and I. Now she haunts the Cape Playhouse. If there aren’t fresh hydrangeas for opening night on that shelf, tragedy will occur.”

“C’mon, you believe that?” Tressa says.

“It’s true. Two directors have ignored the flowers, and on both nights, the show could not finish.”

“What happened?” Ronan and Brandy both ask.

“The power went out one time. And some stuff fell onstage the other time.”