"That sounds so nice," Blue says. It's almost as foreign as her dreams of the Amazon, the idea of seeing a ballet every year. She's sure that there are ballets somewhere -- Charlottesville if not anything closer -- , but Henrietta is much too small to sustain one, and they hadn't even always had a car, much less been able to afford tickets and the gas to drive an hour or more to see theater.

She's not even entirely sure Henrietta had had ballet lessons, although she hadn't been exactly the sort of girl to want them. Doesn't mean she didn't like the idea of watching.

"Hmm," she says. "When I was little, I used to want to be Ellie Satler. You know, from Jurassic Park?" She's not sure that's home, exactly, but it is something deep in her heart. "Taking care of triceratops and studying berries. I watched it over and over, on some old VHS. Even though it terrified me. The music always got to me, too."

She smiles, a little embarrassed. "Home was always a crazy mashup of music. Folk rock and international and whatever top 40 Orla wanted to listen to and hippie stuff. My mom really loved Fleetwood Mac, though. I remember lying on the floor as a kid listening to Rhiannon."

Thinking back, it should be less weird that her dad is a Welsh tree-mage her mother summoned for fun, probably.