“Yep,” Jack agrees, as beguilingly direct as ever. Jack keeps a low profile in Minnesota, save for a popular Instagram of gamer stuff, a new girlfriend, and updates on his transition. Now twenty-five days on T, his sharp cheekbones are dotted with acne. “Being on T is amazing, but it hasn’t been exactly like I thought. Like, I thought I’d have a beard already, but it’s been way less Teen Wolf and more, just, zits everywhere.”

“Yes, men are very greasy,” Alan says with sensitive, Oprah-like understanding as he brushes a strand of strawberry blond wig from his lips.

Luckily, most campers have families who rapidly turned a corner as soon as the Nightlight news broke. Molly took a page from Nightlight BB’s and leveraged our situation into minor internet celebritydom: now fully out at home, she records “roughing it” videos where she does Man vs. Wild shit in the Arizona wilderness with her girlfriend (and no supplies), cooking whatever she finds with whatever she can find. She once barbecued roadkill with a scrap of tinfoil, and it made everyone (including me) very upset—but it got her an REI sponsorship, so who am I to judge?

The other campers actively avoid the spotlight. Anke, Christina, and Owen are out in their various Midwestern homes, but Owen—youngest and littlest—worries us. I don’t have many details, but there was a suicide attempt after school started. He went back to regular classes, but apparently, his mom has taken to sleeping outside his door to listen for signs of him trying again. His parents don’t want him socializing with other campers (and they’d probably rather forget anyone ever heard of Nightlight), but at least they let him speak to Lacrishia. She flies out when she can.

“Belinda, what did your mom do when she first saw you in makeup?” Jack asks.

“She said, ‘no,’” Alan responds to a gale of laughter.

“She said, ‘no’?” Vance cackles.

“Yeah, oh my God, just ‘No.’ Like I was asking.”

I giggle into the fleshy, furry nook of Marcos’s arm, and the knots of tension in my neck unwind. Nearing the end of the video, Marcos is already typing his comment about how much we loved it, how Jack is the greatest, and how flawless the boys look. I can’t handle accidentally reading any troll comments, not after the insane one I read last week—the one I haven’t been able to pry out of my mind.

Don’t think about the comment. Breathe in your through your nose, out through your mouth.

While Marcos drops his compliment, I avert my eyes from the comments section and sneak another peek at my notifications: no response yet from Mom. She’s probably not up yet. She sleeps in on holidays.

“Okay gurr, who’s our guest next week?” Alan asks.

“We’re off to New York City, Mama,” Vance replies. “Know what that means?”