The last message arrived shortly before midnight.

Bring a black shirt tomorrow. Nothing printed on it. And if you have something pretty for your hair, bring that, too.

The girl was already in bed. The blue notebook lay open on her nightstand at the page where she had stopped writing, and the little bedside lamp was still on. She read the message and smiled.

Her new friend was so excited about the idea that she had spent the entire evening sending messages, pictures, and suggestions. They had agreed to take their photographs in the back schoolyard, beside the pale wall, but they still couldn’t agree on exactly how they should look.

What about our faces? the girl wrote.

I’ll bring some things. Don’t worry.