“I keep thinking about maybe trying to find out where I came from.” She glances down and picks at a thread on the hem of her shirt. “I know there’s no information from the adoption, but . . . What if I found something through a DNA test? There are so many places that do that now, and you can find matches online. I sometimes lurk at a couple of forums for safe haven babies, and some of them have found relatives that way. Through a simple saliva test!”

“Science is amazing,” I say, because it’s the only thing I can say with confidence. I don’t want to spook her when she’s trying to process something that could change her life forever.

“But the thought of telling my parents I want to find my biological family . . .” She trails off.

Silence hangs between us for a moment, and there is loneliness in it that I feel almost as acutely as if it’s my own. Because even though she has friends and family who love her, there is a part of her left unexplained and unaccounted for that keeps her feeling untethered, like she doesn’t quite belong. And if there is anything I understand, it’s what it feels like to be on the outside looking in.

“Yeah,” I say. “How do you even start that conversation?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so worried that they’ll take it wrong.”

“I guess there’s always that risk.” I think about what I know about myself and wonder if it would be different if I didn’t know anything about my parents. What would it be like to live without fear of inheriting my mom’s anxiety or to not know that we both hate cantaloupe and are good at math? Would I be a different person if I hadn’t known my dad was an engineer, or would I have turned out just the same if I’d still had a parent who encouraged me to build things? Would I be a different person who actually had social skills if I’d been raised in another family, or would I just feel lost and out of place — a drop-in like Zoe sometimes describes herself?

The questions are pointless, since I won’t ever know the answers. But I guess they make me grateful for what I have, and I wish Zoe could have that same knowledge of who she is and why.

We finish off our food in silence, lost in our own thoughts, but the quiet isn’t uncomfortable. It’s just us, and all the things we know about each other, and Starworld somewhere out on the horizon giving us a safe place to hide when we need it.