One Wish Away (3 page)

I pass Tiffany Snow's locker, all pinks and pictures. Her boyfriend Christian is front and center, showing Tiffany something on his phone. I used to have a crush on him, until about two years ago, when I overheard him calling me “ugly” and “stuck-up” to his friends.

I turn away from Tiffany's locker and stare at a blank wall, reminding myself it doesn't matter. Relationships at our age are silly anyway.

Three of the lockers we pass must belong to girls as well because they've got Kurt Cobain's pictures wallpapering the inside door. Nirvana, recently released another album, the first one in close to twenty years, so now he's conquered two generations. I must admit that even though he's old, I see why girls my age think he's hot.

I giggle as an upperclassman kisses a concert poster.

Darren gives me a look that I shake away before heading to our locker. Harrison High's surrounding community has grown more rapidly than expected so the freshmen and sophomores are forced to have “locker buddies”.

Darren leans against the locker next to ours as I put in the combination.

“What are you going to do about the Spica thing?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Well…” I grunt as I pull up on the locker latch. The metal door shakes when I throw it open and Darren's books descend from the top shelf.

“Oh sorry!” He grabs the few in my arms and I bend over to pick up those on the floor. Darren's Star Trek poster took the brunt of this attack. One of the books must have caught a corner on its way down. Captain Kirk lost three quarters of his head.

Darren's a slob. This isn't the first time that's happened. One of these days I'm going to get a black eye thanks to his history book.

Darren looks at me sideways, gauging my mood. I force a grin, which I know doesn't fool him, but assures him I've survived the latest locker avalanche.

He clears his throat. “There's one person I can think of who might have the answers about the missing star.” He glances at the only picture I have in our locker, which is held to the inside of the door by a moon rock magnet.

Obsessed is the perfect way to describe the man in the picture with me. Forget eating, drinking, sleeping. Especially family. There's nothing he doesn't know about the universe that we haven't already discovered. His brain doesn't spend much time at sea level. Luckily, I have a slight advantage at understanding the inner workings of his mind. I turn to rest my back on the locker next to ours.

After all, he is my father.

*

I lay on my back, pretending to shoot hoops at my ceiling. The bed creaks every time I catch the ball in my hands. Next time up the ball skims the plaster, causing one of the glow-in-the-dark stars to fall onto the bed.

I bury the ball in my comforter so it doesn't roll away and take the star in my hand. I really should stop toiling over what all the kids said at school. It's not like it was different from any other day.

I'm never doing an interview again.

Darren offered to walk me home, but I needed to be alone. I think he understood.

To top the day off, the ninth textbook didn't reveal any logical explanations. I scoured the skies again when it got dark, and sure enough, I still can't see Spica.

“Lyra! Dinner's ready!”

I roll off the bed and trudge downstairs. About once a week Aunt Stephanie comes over to have dinner with us. I was seven when Mom ran out and Aunt Steph jumped in to help. These weekly dinners are the only time I eat with anybody, unless I'm hanging out with Darren.

My eyes stare at the carpet and as my foot hits the last step, arms encircle my torso, pulling me in for a hug. The hug is new. We're not a very huggy family.

“How are you doing, Lyra?” she asks, her voice much too happy for the way I feel.

I force a smile. “I'm fine. School was fine.”

Usually I help set up for dinner, but I was too busy sulking in my room. Walking around the corner to the dining room, I catch my father with his arms crossed, eyes focused on the dark sky. He's mumbling something, which isn't unusual.

“David. It's time for dinner,” Aunt Stephanie says.

“Oh, right.” Green eyes shine from behind my father's thick-rimmed glasses as he turns to take a seat at the head of the table. “What a nice weekly meal.”

“Well, they're kind of turning into monthly meals now, Dad. You missed the last two.” I glance at Aunt Steph who was the only family member present for the last “family” meal.

Dad's face scrunches. “Was it really two weeks?” His shoulders slump a little. “Sorry, kiddo. Work is just so crazy right now–”

“Really, it's fine, Dad. No need to apologize.” I tuck in behind my normal spot with my aunt across from me. She spoons the casserole on her plate and passes the dish over.

“Things are just so busy at work. It's hard to get away….”

I don't bother to tell him
again
that it's fine. First, this happens more often than not. And second, I don't want to make him feel bad for doing what he loves. Aunt Stephanie finds time to pull away from work, even though she's the Director of Space Exploration and Discovery, known as SEAD to the few who care it exists. But for my father… when he's not thinking about outer space, he isn't my dad. There's little else he spends time pondering, including what time it is and whether it's “family dinner” night.

I don't mind fighting the universe for his attention. Usually.

“Is everything okay at SEAD?” The question is for either of them. My aunt is less socially awkward than my father. She's smart, but not like Dad, who is what Tiffany Snow would call a “true, blue genius”. So Aunt Steph has the skills to handle the science and space arenas, as well as all the administration work that comes with running an organization like SEAD. What she lacks in brains she makes up for with her ability to talk with the average population. Kind of like Darren, actually.

“Oh it's a very exciting time, Lyra. Over this past month we've made the biggest breakthroughs.” Her grey eyes expand to cover half her face. She moves them from me to my father. “Possibly the biggest one of all time.”

My eyebrows rise at the bold statement. “What kind of breakthrough?”

“Sorry, kid. We can't really talk about it. But it's all very exciting.”

Well…that conversation went nowhere. I listen to our utensils clang against our plates. I glance outside at the front yard, the tree house Darren and I were in last night. I was ten when I decided I wanted to be like my dad, an astronomer, the
lead
astronomer for SEAD. I begged him for a year to build my observatory in that tree. Sticking out at the highest point and perfectly situated so that every side is open to the night sky.

Pretending to be picking at my casserole, I steal a look at my father. Sixteen-hour days are wearing on him. The grey around his temples is new, as are the bags under his eyes. His accelerated aging must have to do with this breakthrough. The timing fits.

My aunt pours herself more water and offers it to Dad, who shakes it away. Then she clears her throat. “But I can tell you that your father is the brains behind the whole thing.”

I look at him and watch as his cheeks turn red behind his black glasses. He hates attention. Even from his family. But he grins, eats a spoonful of casserole and explains, “Your aunt had a huge hand in it too.”

It makes me really happy to see him so excited. “And you can't share
anything
about this project?”

“Lyra,” Aunt Steph warns, tilting her head to the side. “No more questions, okay?”

Okay. I take in a deep breath. Not only do I feel shunned at school, but I'm also starting to feel that way in my own home.

I look past my reflection in the window, out to the night sky.

I guess if they don't want to talk about what's on their mind, I might as well ask them questions about what's on mine.

“So I was looking at the stars yesterday with Darren and I noticed something really strange.” I pause, looking from my father to my aunt. They're wearing expectant expressions, like they're actually interested. Which, since I mentioned stars, makes sense.

“I can't find Spica. In Virgo.”

Both blink. A long blink. Then glance at each other. Then back at me.

“Really?” Aunt Stephanie asks, her eyes pinched together more than usual.

“Yeah.”

Dad pushes his glasses up his nose, glances at Aunt Steph, then back at me. “Well, honey, you know, stars don't disappear. It's a lengthy process where the energy held within the—”

“I know. I've looked online, through nine textbooks, and as many journals as I can stand to figure it out. I was hoping one of you might know more.”

“I'm sure there's an easy explanation,” my aunt starts.

“Can we grab the telescope and take a look?” I point at the window. At the exact spot Dad was standing earlier.

“Maybe after dinner, okay?” my aunt says. She's gripping her fork so tight it might become permanently fused to her hand.

“Yeah, okay.”

*

I put the dishes away in silence, starring out the window at the night sky. The faint mumbling from the TV floats through the house. It feels good to have Dad and Aunt Steph in the other room.

They're the astronomers. All they have to do is take a look with the telescope and tell me what it is I'm missing.

“Shit,” I gasp as the plate snaps in my hands. The cut fills the sink with a small trail of blood. I suck in a breath. Tolerance for pain is not one of my strengths.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I whisper to myself as I run it under water. I lean over as far as I can to pull open the drawer with the older, but clean, towels. Once I have one, I flip the water off and wrap my hand tight. The first aid kit is in the hall closet.

My bare feet slap the hardwood as I walk through the kitchen and past the entrance to the family room, where Aunt Steph and Dad are watching TV. I guess the more appropriate explanation is that the TV is on in front of them, while they're both buried in astronomy journals.

“Breaking news,” the reporter says. “It has been brought to our attention that the star Spica has mysteriously vanished.”

All the air flies out of my lungs. I sprint over to Dad's chair and grab the remote off the armrest.

“Honey, what are you—”

“Shh.”

With the volume up, the reporter continues, “A number of sources have confirmed, and Astronomer Harry Tagert, joins us with his thoughts.”

I met him at one of Dad's banquets last year. To the camera he says, “I have absolutely no explanation for this. All of our previous ideas about how stars die cannot explain what has happened to this particular star. The astronomy community as a whole is at a loss for an explanation.”

When the station goes to commercial break, I peel my eyes away from the screen and focus on my family. Both Dad and Aunt Steph's mouths are hanging open. They slowly look at each other, and then both look at me.

“This is what I was saying at dinner,” I say simply. Though, I'm sure that's perfectly obvious.

“I don't understand how…” Dad's mumbling again. “This wasn't what we saw during—”

“David,” Aunt Steph snaps. She stands and passes her hand through her frizzy, brown hair. “I think you and I should get back to the lab. No doubt the United States government will want a statement from SEAD so they can make a public statement.”

“Is this that big of a deal?” I ask.

“Until we do the work, we don't really know, do we?” Aunt Steph says as she crosses the room to grab her purse.

“I just don't understand,” Dad mumbles as his sister pulls him to his feet.

“Get your briefcase. Let's move, David.”

Within a minute Aunt Steph has gathered everything, including my father. They hurry to the front door and she shoves him outside. Over her shoulder my aunt says, “Dinner was very nice, Lyra. See you again next week. Be good.”

“Yeah. Good luck.” I manage to get the words out just before the door closes.

I was right.

I can't wait to tell Darren.

I pull out my cell to send him a text.

call me when you get off. something totally strange is happening

After I hit send, I glance around at the mess. I pick up the blanket my aunt was using and take my father's cup to the sink. I peel the towel off my hand and immediately the cut starts to bleed into the sink again.

Shoot. First aid is also not one of my strengths.

I manage to get the Band-Aids off the shelf in the closet but treating the wound without making a mess is impossible. After a few tries, I give up. I put the stuff back in the hall closet, grab another old, but clean, towel, and wrap my hand in that.

Then I turn all the lights off in the house, pull a chair out from the table and stare out our kitchen window at the ever-changing night sky.

“Hey.” A hand touches my shoulder.

“Ah!”

“It's just me. It's just me.” Darren has his hands up, protecting himself in case I take a swing.

“Haven't you heard of knocking?” My chest is heaving a mile a minute.

“I did knock. I shouted your name.” He looks at my cell on the table. “And I called you. Twice.” He tosses it to me. Shoot. It was on silent.

“When I saw you sitting at the window I thought I'd just let myself in.”

“Sorry.” I shrug one shoulder. “Just a lot to think about, I guess.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. That's certainly what your text suggested.”

“Have you seen the news?”

“Nope. Lots of stocking to do at work today. Didn't take a break. Don't have a data plan on this puppy.” He shakes his
really
old flip phone. “And there's no radio on my bike so, no, I didn't hear anything on my drive over, either.” His eyes sparkle with sarcasm. “So, what's up?”