I write: Besides, we haven’t fulfilled the third quest and we can’t leave that unfinished, right? *raids bag of hot sauces and prepares to fuel Humphrey for quest*

I wait a few minutes.

Crickets.

I’m thirsty. I turn on the cold water and drink right out of the faucet. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and lean back on the door.

“Zo? Are you okay?” It’s Cammie. She taps on the door. “Sweetie? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

I hear her footsteps retreating, hear her telling the others what I said.

I bend over my phone and type again: Sam, come on. SAY SOMETHING. Please.

I wait, staring at the screen, then add: If you had just TOLD me . . . Why didn’t you tell me? I told you everything.

I amend that: Fucking everything. <3

Apparently I’m crying. A tear falls on my phone. I told you stuff I never told anyone. I introduced you to Jonah. I trusted you with everything! You can’t just go away.

She’s not going to answer, and I can’t bear it.

Please don’t be gone.

But she is.

Sam

Starworld has collapsed in on itself.

So has my heart.

I manage to hold myself together enough to survive dinner with Mom — some sort of Crock-Pot chicken gruel full of frozen vegetables that has the appearance and appeal of cat vomit. I tell her my puffy eyes are due to allergies, so she stuffs me full of antihistamines and doesn’t question me when I retreat to my room to “study.” When I get there, I bypass my books, put on my pajamas, and climb into bed.

The messages don’t come until later. Each time my phone buzzes and I read what Zoe says, my heart breaks into smaller pieces. She’s trying so hard to be kind; she’s opening the door to Starworld and hoping I’ll follow her. But I can’t banish the memory of the horrified look on her face after I kissed her. The look of incomprehension, maybe even disgust. Woven in with my shame are fragments of memory I can’t seem to push aside: the way she smelled, how soft her hair was, how warm her lips were during the nanosecond they were pressed against mine.

I thought there was so much more between us, that she surely felt what I did — that tug that kept me always gravitating to where she was. The pull of Starworld, more deep and insistent than anything I’d ever known.

I am such a fool.