I push myself up off the floor and head to the kitchen to finish up dinner. After Keith and I eat, I set aside leftovers for Mama and Kyla.

As I’m sitting at the desk in my room with a pen in my hand and a pad of paper in front of me, Mama knocks on my already cracked-open door. “Not bad for your first try at my King Ranch casserole.”

I smile. “Keith said he couldn’t even tell the difference.”

She rolls her eyes. “His taste buds are about as refined as a hog’s.” She leans against the door and crosses her arms. “I really appreciate you picking up the slack tonight.”

I nod. “I didn’t mind.”

“You working on some homework?”

I slide my arm over the paper and lie. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl,” she says. “Night, baby.”

“Night, Mama,” I whisper as she shuts the door behind her.

As the house quiets for the evening, I text Mitch and ask for a favor before reading over what I’ve written one last time.

Mama,

First, I haven’t run away. Don’t panic. I like your cooking way too much. But I’ve gone to do something important, and I’ll be gone for the next day or two. I know I’ve been all sorts of trouble lately, but I want you to know that this thing I have to do isn’t for my own sake. It’s for Millie. She was there for me when I didn’t even have the sense to know I needed her, so now it’s my turn to be there for her.

You can be mad at me. You can punish me when I get back. I’ll spend the whole summer cooking dinners to your liking if I have to, but I gotta do this one thing. I promise to text and let you know that I’m safe.

xo,

Callie

Millie

Thirty-Five

I lie perfectly still in my bed, holding my breath. The light scratching on the window doesn’t stop. It’s been happening for about five minutes now. Someone is outside my bedroom window.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die at the hands of a window-scratching killer.

“Millie,” a voice whisper-shouts.

Then comes a light knock on the window.

“Millie!” the voice says again.

This time I sit up and tiptoe to my window before yanking the curtains to the side and jumping back into a boxing stance in one swift motion. What am I going to do? Box the window-scratching killer from inside my room? Well, at least Uncle Vernon might be proud.

My eyes adjust to the moonlight as the figure in my backyard melts into focus. “Callie?”

She motions to the window, and I step forward and slide it up.

“What are you doing? How did you get here?”

“Mitch dropped me off,” she says.

I gasp. “Are you two, like, a thing? Oh my gosh. I’ve missed so much.”

She smiles just a little. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

I step back and she crawls through the window gracefully.

“You’re good at that.”

She shrugs. “If the Shamrocks left me with anything, it was balance and leotards.” She sits down on my bed. “We need to talk.”

I pull on my fuzzy pink robe and plop down beside her. “I’m so glad to see you,” I say. “And I’m so sorry I never—”

She shakes her head. “First, you really don’t have anything to apologize for. Second, we’re gonna have to save the heartwarming reconciliation for later, because we’re on a time crunch.”

“What?”

“It’s a seven-hour drive to Austin.” She glances at her phone. “It’s just past midnight. Once you pack a bag and we get on the road, it’ll be quarter to one. With stops, that puts us getting in around nine.”

My eyes go wide. Did she hit her head? “Austin? What are you talking about?”

She takes both my hands in hers. “We’re getting you into that damn broadcast journalism camp, Millicent Michalchuk.”

“They already rejected me,” I tell her.

“No,” she says. “I reject them rejecting you!”

“What would I even say?”

“How about ‘My name is Millicent Fucking Michalchuk, and you made a mistake. Lucky for you I’m here to help you make that right.’”

I smile. “Well, maybe without the F-word.”

“We’ll figure out the details on the way. The point is, I checked online, and applicants who have been accepted have until tomorrow to respond, so I figure if we can make it there by then, we still have a chance.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “My mom already paid the deposit at Daisy Ranch, and she would kill me if she knew I ran off to Austin in the middle of the night.”

Callie takes my hands again. “Millie, you are the most badass person I know. Your mama would be disappointed in you for doing pretty much anything she herself hadn’t specifically planned out for your future. But you’ve got to live the life you want. Not the one she thinks you should.” She closes her eyes for a moment and bites down on her lip before continuing. “I’ve never had much faith in religion or school or heck, people. But, Millie, I have faith in you. People aren’t always gonna get it right on the first try. They’re not always gonna say yes when they should. And sometimes you just gotta swallow rejection and move on, but sometimes you have to refuse to take no for an answer. For the next twenty-four hours, ‘no’ is not in our vocabulary.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Give me a minute to pack a bag and grab my keys. Guess we’re driving to Austin?”

“I promise to keep you awake the whole time and sing whatever music you choose as loud and obnoxiously as I can.”

“Deal,” I say. “Austin or bust?”

“Austin or bust.”

After packing my lavender overnight duffel bag, I sneak out through the garage, which I open manually to cut down on noise, and meet Callie in the driveway. She’s got a small backpack and two bags of chips.

“I should grab some bottled water for us,” I whisper as I open the van for her.

I make a quick trip inside and grab an armful of water bottles and a few bananas, because if I’m really doing this, maybe a little extra potassium wouldn’t hurt.

We settle into the car and I check every single mirror twice and then I turn the ignition. My parking lights come on, illuminating the figure standing just in front of the hood. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or what, but my nerves have taken a hike.

“Millie?” my dad calls.

I gasp. Crap.

“Let’s just go,” Callie says. “We can explain later.”

Dad stands in his sleep pants and DAD OF THE YEAR shirt I made him in middle school using iron-on letters. I can’t imagine just leaving him here without even a brief explanation. “Give me a minute,” I tell her.

She grips my shoulder. “You’re doing this for all the right reasons, Millie. Don’t forget that.”

I turn off the car and get out.

Dad rubs his eyes. “Where are you going at this hour?”

“I’m going to contest my rejection from the UT broadcast journalism camp.”

“You’re . . . you’re going to Austin? In the middle of the night? Millie, that’s a six-hour drive!”

“Closer to seven hours,” I correct him.

“What’s seven hours?” My mom appears behind my dad, framed by the door leading into the house. She pulls her robe—a perfect match for mine—tight over her chest. I can see the fuzzy sleep still there in her eyes as she looks from my dad to me to the van to Callie sitting in the passenger’s seat. “What’s going on here? And why is that girl in our van? Millie, what are you doing?” With each word, the panic in her voice builds.

“The drive to Austin,” I say. “It’s seven hours. I’m driving to Austin with Callie to protest the decision from the broadcast journalism camp.”

Mom takes a step closer to me. “Oh, honey, we’ve already talked about this. You’re going back to Daisy Ranch.” She looks to my dad for backup. “This is the summer. I can feel it. Isn’t that right, Todd?”