I want to help you,' I say to Juliet, though I know that I can't make her understand, not like this.

'Don't you get it?' She turns to me, and to my surprise I see she's crying. 'I can't be fixed, do you understand?'

I think of standing on the stairs with Kent and saying exactly the same thing. I think of his beautiful light green eyes, and the way he said, You don't need to be fixed and the warmth of his hands and the softness of his lips. I think of Juliet's mask and how maybe we all feel patched and stitched together and not quite right.

I am not afraid.

Dimly, I have the sense of roaring in my ears and voices so close and faces, white and frightened, emerging from the darkness, but I can't stop staring at Juliet as she's crying, still so beautiful.

'It's too late,' she says.

And I say, 'It's never too late.