“Back through the years I go wanderin’ once again . . . ,” sang Mom.

“Back to the seasons of my youth!” Blair and I shrieked. Jade rolled her eyes, but she was grinning.

“I recall a box of rags that someone gaaaaave us,” sang Mom, snapping her fingers.

“And how my mama put those rags to use!”

I had seen a documentary about Dolly Parton once. Mom made me watch it with her, but I actually kind of liked it. She was from Locust Ridge, a town not much smaller than Moose Junction. Even when she was little, everyone knew she was special. They were just waiting for the day she’d make it big.

She was a blond-haired, long-nailed, southern-drawled version of my sister, really. Blair was too good for Moose Junction, Wisconsin. She would take off one day, leaving us all behind, and charge into some unknown future where people would throw flowers at her feet and beg for her autograph. Something about that made me feel queasy. Mom and Dad were just so proud to be Blair’s parents, beaming as everyone praised her and framing the reviews from Coppélia. Jade acted like she didn’t care at all. But I felt nervous. If Blair left, which she obviously would one day, who would we be, if not her family? Who was I, Abigail Leigh McCourt, if not Blair’s little sister?

Just as I thought that, Blair threw her arm around me and gave me a loud, ice-cream-filled kiss on the cheek. I shrieked and ripped away. Who was I if not Blair’s little sister? Maybe I would never have to find out.

13

AUGUST, PRESENT DAY

Twelve years old

The next morning, I swung by the library to see if Harriet had gotten the new Starkeeper book yet. I had barely passed the reference desk when I saw him—Caleb Evers, dropping a couple of books into the return slot.

I froze, but he looked up and saw me. We just kind of stared at each other for a second, until he awkwardly raised a hand.

“Hey,” he said.

My grand plan of evaporating into thin air didn’t seem to be working.

“Hey,” I said. I pointed at the book he was returning, A Gardener’s Guide to Herbs. “New hobby?”

He chuckled. “Just running some errands for my mom. Sucking up before I head to La Crosse.” That’s where he was headed to college. One thousand, one hundred and four miles, I’d heard him tell Blair once as they sat on our back porch. La Crosse to New York. Not so far. She hadn’t responded.

“Soon, right?”

“Soon,” he said. “A couple of weeks. I’m going to miss this place.”

“I’d think you couldn’t wait to leave,” I said. Then I felt stupid. Sure, Blair was gone, but his parents were here. His friends. His life. It’s not like he was all alone.

He gave a half smile. “I should head out.”