I will do my own saving.

I am Jessica Stone. I am many things: a daughter, and an actress, and a fan of astronomy and the stars and the wide finite universe. I love strawberries on hot summer days and the way the moonlight shines so softly across Harper’s face tonight. I am an explorer of my own sexuality. I am a kaleidoscope of hope and dreams and wonder in the shape of a girl. I am not a porcelain doll. I am not empty. I am worthy.

I am enough.

Harper leans over the balcony railing, and she smiles and tilts her head and shouts down, “Are you really Romeo and Juliet-ing this right now?”

I press the megaphone trigger and reply. “You bet I am. And if you say no I’ll sing the Starfield theme until you come down and pry this megaphone from the fingers of my lifeless corpse.”

“GOD PLEASE DON’T MAKE HER SING!” someone in the crowd shouts. Oh look, my legacy from last night’s karaoke.

Even from way down here, Harper’s smile is blinding. “Gimme a few minutes.”

The crowd around me—which I had forgotten about—erupts into chaotic applause. I turn around and look down at the sea of people who followed me out of the convention hall, people in geek T-shirts and cosplay, toting art prints and nerdy collectibles, some of their phones aimed up at me. A Luke Skywalker cosplayer thrusts his green lightsaber into the air.

My cheeks begin to hurt and I realize that I’m smiling. Really, truly, stupidly smiling. So wide that the muscles in my face begin to ache. Because for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am happy.

Ridiculously, wonderfully happy.

In front of the truck, a familiar redheaded girl heaves herself onto the hood, followed by Sage. She motions to the megaphone. “May I?”

“Oh, sure,” I say, and I hand it off.

Elle tests the trigger and then raises it to her mouth. “Attention, my favorite weirdos and nerds, thanks to an anonymous donor, each one of you now has a ticket to ExcelsiCon’s notorious ball in the Grand Ballroom. Please check your lightsabers, spears, bows, and warhammers at the door. Now let’s go party!”

The crowd erupts into another cheer and turns in the direction of the con.

Elle giddily turns back to me. “I’ve always wanted to use one of those!”

I laugh. “I take it Dare’s the anonymous donor?”

Her grin widens. “Actually, it was Natalia Ford.” The surprise must show on my face because Elle adds, “She was at the panel, and she told me to tell you that she has an offer for you. She said to call her later.”

“And,” Dare adds, coming up beside her, “Amon is on the phone with the executive producers right now.” He’s looking very intently at his nails. “They’re having quite a discussion—”