Between Us and the Moon - Rebecca Maizel Page 0,108

not, I will pursue the workings of our universe for the rest of my life.

Because I am a keeper of the stars.

In my heart, in my soul. Forever.

They have guided me back to myself.

I know how to live a full life now because of this incontrovertible and very simple fact:

Each atom is made up of protons, neutrons, and electrons. The number of protons in a nucleus determines the identity of an element. The many plants, animals, and beaches of the world have different equations for these protons and neutrons—but we all have them. Even humans. We are all linked by the power of the infinitely small.

So, am I a scientist? Yes, but I am so much more. I know now it is not only the experiment that counts but also the scientist inside. I don’t just watch the stars. I don’t just watch our world anymore.

I am the stars.

I am the Comet Jolie that shot across our beautiful sky.

I am the universe.

THIRTY-FOUR

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, I COME DOWN THE STAIRS and the smell of tomato soup meets my nose. There’s the clink of silverware against bowls and the TV chatters away in the living room.

No one noticed I was gone all night. No one except Scarlett.

Mom’s going home on Monday. I stop just to the side of the laundry room door. The honeysuckle scent of fabric softener wafts into the empty hallway. She hasn’t said anything about my new dress, but she must have come to get my laundry this morning when I was sleeping. It’s pressed and hanging above the dryer. I want to ask her if she thinks I looked pretty at the party, but before I open my mouth, she runs a hand down the front of the dress. She shakes her head a little but she’s smiling. She hums when she’s happy and it takes me a second, but I think she might be singing The Doors, “Light My Fire.”

I hold the finished Waterman Scholarship in my hand. It is sealed. I did not let Dad proofread it. The essay I wrote was typed up fifteen minutes later and then sealed within the official Waterman envelope. Even though it’s only Sunday and there is no mail service today, I will drop it in the mailbox anyway.

This experiment is complete.

I have spent the whole summer worrying about Andrew. Worrying about how to make him like me. Worrying how I could protect myself and guard the lie. I will go back to school and start over. Start on a new astronomy scholarship. And I will work on it without the lie weighing on my heart.

This new heart.

Earlier that morning, as I sealed up my envelope for the scholarship, I held my cell phone in my hand and hovered over Gran’s ten-digit number. I couldn’t bring myself to call her and listen to Gracie’s voice sing out of the receiver. I didn’t deserve her advice or her comfort. But one fact is certain, when I visit her on Labor Day weekend, I’ll tell her the entire story.

I walk past Nancy, Dad, and Scarlett. They are sitting and talking at the kitchen table. I hesitate at the foyer, where they can’t see me, and listen in on the conversation.

“She didn’t want me to read her scholarship essay,” Dad says.

“Maybe she doesn’t need you to,” Scarlett adds, but it’s flat, closing the discussion.

“Maybe you’re right,” Dad replies.

Nancy huffs.

“I liked her dress,” Dad says.

“I kinda did too,” Scarlett says. “I mean, it was a little tight, but it looked nice.”

“She’s finally a teenager,” Dad says with a big sigh.

“She has been a teen for a long time, you just haven’t noticed,” Scarlett says to Dad playfully.

“You seem to know everything,” Dad says.

“She’s my sister. I’m supposed to know more than you.”

I smile at this and slip past them, out the front door, and into the sunlight.

Fishing Pier. Tourists walk across the hot pavement making direct lines for the fishing boats. It’s just before noon. Even though it’s Sunday, Andrew texted earlier to tell me that the crew had to go out around one to clean up after the storm. Because of the tropical storm it’ll be a longer trip than usual. I try to distract myself with these thoughts as I walk from the parking lot, past Hatchman’s Fish Market, and toward the docks.

I take a deep breath: I’m wearing Scarlett’s white sunglasses. She wouldn’t let me leave the house without showering first.

The water rolled down my body, collected the sand and salt