My brother blinks and then leans in to me. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”

“You are going to steal the one-of-a-kind, ultra special, super important Princess Amara ballroom gown on display in the exhibit. With Jess.”

“Oh, okay. That’s what I thought you said.”

“And Harper’s going to help too,” I add, nodding to my friend, who doesn’t seem too keen on the idea. She will, won’t she? She’s been with Jess this whole time, so I’m sure she won’t mind. I put my hand in the middle of us. “Okay, who’s with me!”

Milo and Bran exchange a look—communicating in a second that this plan is about as bulletproof as Princess Amara driving a spaceship into the Black Nebula—but they put their hands over mine anyway, three-fourths to completing our friendship circle. “Harps?” I say, glancing to the last person on our team.

Her brows crease, and she sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been pulled along in this scheme long enough. I gotta get back to my booth. Good luck, Monster.”

Then she pushes herself between Milo and Bran and heads back into the showroom, and my stomach sinks. Of course. I want to run after her and stop her, but what right do I have to do that?

If we were really friends, I wouldn’t have lied.

I shouldn’t have.

I can’t think about that, I tell myself. I’ll apologize later. I’ll tell her the whole story.

That is, if she ever wants to talk to me again.

“So, Monster, tell us how to get in trouble,” Milo says. “You were always the best at that,” he adds, not unkindly.

That makes me smile despite my probably-ruined-friendship with Harps. I clear my throat and say with Princess Amara’s saccharine ruthlessness, “It is one of my most glorious qualities,” and I ask him to follow me.

Jess

MY PHONE BUZZES AS I HEAD DOWN the hallway to my hotel suite. It’s from Imogen. I actually decided to trade numbers just in case something goes wrong. I don’t think she’ll be posting mine to any lewd websites.

IMOGEN (4:47 PM)

—Harper isn’t going to help us.

—I’m sorry, Jess.

I am, too. It’s because of me that Imogen lost her friendship with Harper, and I lost…

How could I lose something I never had? We shared ramen and stars and stories, and maybe that’s all that two people are, sometimes.

We’re just satellites that fell into each other’s orbit for a breath and then traveled on.

I slip my keycard into the door and shove it open.

“Ethan, I know you’re in here!” I call as I sweep into the room. The Great British Bake-Off is blaring on the TV, and that can only mean one thing. I turn it off and call his name again.