The final sentence.

I laughed and cried at the same fucking time.

At night I pull my side braid apart, run my fingers through its silky ripples as I fall asleep, my scalp un-achy, my mind clear.

'It's the magic we made.'

'Friends,' he said.

The night wears on and they're still looking.

See you at our spot.

Then, behind the boy, the locked door opens.

And in one swoop, in perfect unison, we take our bow.

It was only for a second, and it may have been a glint of the late afternoon light on the edge of my glasses, but I felt my heart skip a beat, and it was like a video I'd once seen of a puzzle falling apart, played backward, so that all the pieces came together in a fabulous rush, and there it was, a single, coherent picture, a life fragmented but still whole.

Soon, she will be ready to fight again.

Harper Kidd and Ivy Hanes are spending the rest of their days together in Los Angeles, listening to good music, eating good food, and enjoying one another's company.

The world was waiting.

They bent their heads over the pages and began to read.

And I count them all twice before I realize–it's me, Dedé, it's me, the one who survived to tell the story.

Dear Ellis, I have something really fucking angelic to tell you.

Ursula also leaves part of herself alive in those who never knew her–in all the books she worked so hard to make GEFY: good enough for you.

The lone white moon in the sky afar, Oh, Child of the Hill, how rich you are.