They do vulnerability with Mac so well, and in such careful doses. The soft reverence in the way she says, “They had tons of clothes” breaks my heart. So does the confidence in her mispronounciation of “chic”—a beautiful little reference to comic!Mac being a reader, often above her grade level, but feeling like she has to hide it. This kid has so many layers, and she wants so badly to keep anyone from seeing that, because in her world, every layer offers a new chance for someone to slice in deep. Prioritize tough. Prioritize cajones. Don’t let them see you’re smarter than they expect. Don’t let them see you wish you had more than your brother’s hand-me-downs. Don’t let them see you’re dreaming of getting out in a thousand tiny little ways. Let them remember only the brash outer surface, the one that can’t hurt when they don’t like it, because it isn’t really you.

Contrast this with the desperation in her voice when she thinks it’s all going to be erased. The panicked apologies. The hitch in her smile: “Let’s be honest—you couldn’t [forget me], even if you tried, right?” She knows there’s only so much road out ahead of her; she’s seen the stone in the ground. And she’s begging them—with that smile, always play-acting, just a little—to tell her again she’s more than just a tough little shit-starter. To tell her she’s worth remembering. That they will, even if she can’t stay. If I’m going, that moment says, I want it to be when you three can see who I actually am. I want friends. I want to be remembered. I want to matter. It’s all built to with such careful detail work over the season, and I am desperate to see more of it in the future.