That night, when my parents put me to bed—together but apart—and turned out the light, I saw a galaxy of luminous stars on my bedroom ceiling. Rose had used her precious glow-in-the-dark stickers to decorate my room instead of her own. “Night night, pipsqueak,” she whispered, standing in my doorway. “Why?” I whispered. “Because you deserve to see the stars just as much as the rest of us.”
