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“Eliza!” Lauryn crashed into me, still wearing her funeral gown. “I CAN’T BELIEVE WE DID IT.”

“Oh my God, I know, right?” I fixed one of the pieces of lace on her shoulder. “You were phenomenal. Seriously. The best I have ever seen you perform.”

“Really? Even better than Dorothy two years ago?”

“Totally. You kicked Dorothy’s ass right back to Oz.” I laughed and started singing the theme from The Wiz.

She hugged me again and then reached into her bag. “I have something for you.”

She pulled out a breathtakingly beautiful crown no one had worn in the performance. Its band was golden with flames like the Capulet headpiece but woven around the flames were dozens of tiny silver leaves from the Montague design.

“I thought you, more than anyone else, needed to have a crown that represented both families.” She gently placed it on my head. “Perfect.”

I ran my fingers over it and beamed. “I love it. Thank you.”

“Hey, Crowley.” Cara hurried over, headphones draped around her neck, and extended her hand. “Way to go.”

I shook it. “You too.”

“Promise me you’ll take good care of this program for me next summer, okay?” she asked.

My throat tightened. “I promise,” I said. If I’m still here.

Ms. Sparrow weaved her way through the crowd toward us with someone I didn’t recognize. She gave Lauryn a hug and whispered something into her ear before she hugged me. “That was outstanding. It took my breath away. You may be a Crowley, but you’ve got the heart and soul of a Doolittle. Your grandmother would’ve been so proud of you.”

I blinked away tears. “Thank you.” Wherever she was, I hoped she saw it.

Ms. Sparrow gestured to the tall woman next to her. “Eliza, Lauryn, I’d like introduce you to my fiancée, Morgan Adams.”

“You’re engaged?” Lauryn clapped and bounced on her toes. “Congrats!”

“Yes, congratulations!” I added.

“Thank you,” Ms. Adams replied. “But I think you two deserve the congratulations after that stellar performance.”

Ms. Sparrow nodded. “Morgan is the head of the UNC theater department, girls.”

Wait. THAT Morgan Adams?

Lauryn stared, speechless, while I offered my hand to Ms. Adams, praying it wasn’t sweaty. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Adams. I caught your productions of The Crucible and A Raisin in the Sun last year—amazing.”

“Thank you.” She shook my hand. “Charlotte has been singing your praises to me all summer. I couldn’t get her to talk about anything else…other than flower arrangements.” Her eyes twinkled.

Really?

“You had to reconfigure everything you did at the Lyric onto a new board and in less than two weeks, right?”

“Right.” My cheeks burned.

“That’s impressive—especially for a high school student. The simplicity of your choices was outstanding. I especially loved your use of lanterns on the stage as well. Brilliant.” Ms. Adams beamed.

A million words rattled around in my brain, but all I could manage was a semi-coherent “Thank you.”

Ms. Adams pulled out two small cards from her purse and handed one to me and the other to Lauryn. “I assume you ladies have heard of our new internship opportunity for next summer?”

“Internship?” Lauryn asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes.” Ms. Adams winked at me. “It’s a great way to get your foot in the door with our department before the fall semester begins. While you don’t have to be a committed UNC student to apply, I do hope you two will consider our program as you make your choices this year. We could use innovative minds like yours in our department.”