December 1966. I was determined to make this the best month of my life so far. My new life, which began that summer. The first summer of my girlhood.

“Whatever you have to say, make it quick, Connie. These long-distance calls are adding up. I’ve called you from L.A., Denver, Chicago, Detroit, Toronto—”

I think I must have fainted. What I remember is that I opened my eyes and saw three faces looming over me. I was lying on the hotel room bed and made some squeaking noises when I tried to speak.

“But won’t I be late for rehearsal?” I asked Bailey as we emerged from the 14th Street subway station into the late morning sun.