The Day the Aurora Spoke My Name

The day the doctors told me I wouldn’t live past twenty-five, the girl who had spent our entire childhood trying to outrun me stopped keeping score.

Kendall Wright—who used to challenge me for top honors in every advanced class, who argued over the rules of every board game we ever played, whom I used to tease until she shoved my shoulder—suddenly softened into someone entirely unrecognizable. When I playfully called her a tyrant, her lower lip trembled, and her eyes welled with tears.