SIXTEEN
AND FOR A WHILE, we found ways to be us—hanging out IRL occasionally,
but texting and facetiming almost every night.
We’d found a way to be on a Ferris wheel without talking about being on a Ferris wheel.
Some days I fell deeper into spirals than others, but changing the Band-Aid sort of worked,
and the breathing exercises and the pills and everything else sort of worked.
And my life continued—I read books and did homework, took tests and watched TV with my mom,
saw Daisy when she wasn’t busy with Mychal, read and reread that college guide and imagined the array of futures it promised.
And then one night, bored and missing the days when Daisy and I spent half our lives together at Applebee’s, I read her Star Wars stories.
Daisy’s most recent story, “A Rey of Hot,” had been published the week before.
I was astonished to see it had been read thousands of times. Daisy was kind of famous.
The story, narrated by Rey, takes place on Tatooine,
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