“I’m heading out,” I tell my parents as if they’ve approved my Best-Case Scenario Plan, as if this is life as usual—except I’m wearing a sunhat at night, every inch of my body is hidden in sun-defensive fibers, and I’m carrying a still-hot baking dish of Caramel Apple Cobbler.

A mix of silent calls-and-responses pass between my parents while they try to formulate a solution to this small but unexpected crisis.

“I’ll be gone for forty-five minutes,” I say, sticking closely to the script I’ve prepared. I nod to Josh’s address already on the kitchen table. “I’m driving just three miles away.”

Mom doesn’t look at the piece of paper but at the apple cobbler, and she knows where I’m going. “Honey, are you sure about this?”

“This is how I’m saying good-bye. I’ll call the moment I think I need you. Plus, I’ll bring Roz.”

Knowing that her eavesdropping skills are even keener than mine, I counted on Roz to chime in from her bedroom, “Can we go to Molly Moon’s after?”

Together, as one voice, my parents and I say, “No.”

Though she grumbles, Roz rushes out to our Subaru. I’m glad for our sister time, too, not just because I need this first semi-solo test run into the outside world to go flawlessly. Not even because this is the exact moment my parents have been picturing since Roz’s birth: sisters in blood and spirit. The truth is: I need my sister. I’m scared to go by myself.

“You’ve thought this through,” Mom says slowly.

“It’s a good plan,” Dad agrees.

With that endorsement, I leave my Necromanteion for the dark outside.