I settle into the seat, reread Erin’s letter, and try to feel hopeful for the future. I wonder if New Hampshire is as beautiful as the Star Watcher’s Paradise. Erin was and is beautiful enough to make even Bellmont tolerable, so I close my eyes and imagine her face.

The train lurches forward and we pull out of Thirtieth Street Station.

A woman wearing a special train hat comes and inspects my ticket, which is sort of fun.

I watch Philadelphia and then so many towns I can’t name pass by my reflection in the window.

So much had to happen to land me on this train—thinking about that makes it feel like someone’s kicking in my skull, and then, suddenly, I’m thinking about the unfathomable stars Russ and I saw from the viewing station in the woods. We really don’t get to understand why most of the time. It’s true.

I reach into my pocket and pull out five one-hundred-dollar bills, which is more money than I have ever held in my hand, and may very well be Dad’s life savings. I think about Dad and Pop living alone without me. Who will help Pop in the bathroom and put him to bed? Why didn’t I think about that before? They loved having Erin and me around. The house will be so quiet now. Pop will probably drink even more. I start to feel guilty about leaving, like I might even cry. I grasp a handful of shirt and the four points of my grandmother’s crucifix dig into my palm.

“Where you going?” the woman across the aisle says. She’s a big lady wearing a purple dress and a little hat that matches.

“New Hampshire,” I say, before I remember that I’m not supposed to tell anyone my destination.

“Pretty country up there.”

“Hope so.”

“First time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You going to play basketball?” she says, eyeing my ball on the seat next to me.

“I hope so—with my girlfriend.”

“You sure do hope a lot.”

I smile at her.

“Nothing wrong with hoping,” she says, and then looks out her window.

Suddenly, the reality of what’s happened hits me. Everything’s swirling in my chest. I’m so nervous. I already miss Pop and Dad. It’s hard to wrap my mind around this moment. Life can change so quickly. Maybe this is how Russ felt when he first came to Bellmont? No wonder he invented Boy21.

I don’t want to cry on the train, so I close my eyes and visualize playing basketball against Erin, and we’re little kids again in my backyard, silently shooting on the old adjustable rim.

It’s a good image, but I force my mind to see the future, what will happen when I arrive in New Hampshire.

It takes some imagining, but finally I see myself playing H.O.R.S.E. with Erin as the sun sets through the trees and the stars poke through the endless sky above. I see us holding hands, getting older through the years, even raising kids in a nice neighborhood where they won’t have to worry about the things we had to worry about. And then Erin and I are kissing on a new roof, under the same endless unknowable space above, and somehow we’re okay.