For a moment I think I might tell Emma how much I miss my mom, and how much I wish I knew where she was, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the words got all jammed and twisted together, crowding my throat. I know better than to trust adults, least of all this one.

By the time we biked home, I was a total wreck. My jaw hurt from clenching, and my legs were sore from two bike rides in one day. Once we got inside, I made a big show of getting ready for bed, yawning in the hallway. Right before I turned off the light, I realized there was a brand-new book on my bed, the receipt stuck in the front cover. Letters from an Astrophysicist by Neil deGrasse Tyson. It’s by the same author as the book I was reading on the day I arrived, and I knew right away that it was from Emma. That she noticed what book I had tucked under my arm makes me feel good and weird at the same time. I have no idea what to do with that feeling. It makes me restless, like a kite on the end of a string, and after I turned off the light, the waiting became even harder.

All this is to say, by the time I leave the house, I’m ready to jump out of my skin. I have a few things in my backpack, my astrophysics book, a can of Dr Pepper I took from the fridge, binoculars, and my star log. My shoes are tied, and I’m ready.

I’ve always been good at sneaking out. It’s about timing and confidence. You have to know how to shift your weight, how to climb, when to drop. And then when you’re on your way, you have to act like you belong, which is basically the story of my life. Dark clothes are good, sneakers are a must. Windy nights are best, but Salem does what it wants to, so I’m going to have to make do with an airless night.