“Thanks,” I said.

She didn’t answer.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I continued. “I could have . . . I don’t know. Figured something out.”

I couldn’t see her face, and we rode quietly for another couple of minutes before she spoke up.

“I was worried about you,” she said. “I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

“I thought you forgot about the telescope,” I told her.

“How could I ever forget that?” she asked. “You think I could forget that?”

I had been wrong about so many things. I had been so stupid! Jade, Sophie—people I had thought were gone forever weren’t. The stars I thought were dead were still shining. You could undo a lie, if you tried hard enough.

“Why didn’t you tell them right away?” asked Jade.

The easy answer was that I was afraid of getting in trouble. Was stealing something buried really stealing? Can you be put in jail for something you did when you were seven? I didn’t know, but I also didn’t want to find out.

But there was another answer hiding under that answer, the same as that chocolate cream hiding in a doughnut. The telescope: it reminded me of sisters and secrets and magic, of a time when things were perfect. It was mine.

That was the truth. But there was another truth, too: the truth of who that telescope belonged to. It was time for the Star-Gazer Twelve to go home.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

“What was your plan if I didn’t get there?” asked Jade. “Just let him dig and find nothing?”

“I was going to move some dirt around and then just drop the telescope at Eagle’s Nest,” I said. “I was supposed to be alone. I wasn’t expecting him to want to come.”

“Stick to astronomy, Abby. I think your short-lived career as a secret agent was a bust.”

The traffic was still clogged up. We found a parking spot a couple of streets away from the viewing party, zipping into a spot as an exhausted-looking woman in a pickup truck pulled out. Jade and I hustled to Main Street and pushed our way through the crowds, looking everywhere for our parents. A New Hope was going to be played over the projector soon, and all the lawn chairs had been replaced with blankets. Miss Mae was selling popcorn from a stand. I’d never seen so many people in our town in my life. I ran into Sophie’s mom, who wrapped me into a hug and asked me how Blair was doing.

“Abby!”

It was Jade, calling to me. She waved me over from across the crowd. She had a huge smile on her face. I headed toward her, shoving through tourists and locals and journalists alike.

“That was something, wasn’t it, Abby?” said Father Peter Patrick, patting my shoulder as I walked by. “God’s creation is outstanding.”

“Abby.” Another voice. One that was all too familiar. One I’d know anywhere.