Something about the openness of Vanessa’s face made Joan realize that, sitting on her barstool, her feet didn’t touch the floor.

Joan blinked. “Yeah,” she said. “I think it did kill me a little.”

“I want to fly the fucking thing,” Vanessa said. “Though God knows, since I’ve only flown privately, and not as a military pilot, it’s going to be an uphill battle. But I want to go somewhere so few people have ever gone that you could name them all—and when people do name them, I want them to name me.”

“I understand that,” Joan said. “I understand that completely.”

Vanessa looked at her, her gaze intense. “You do?”

“Absolutely. To do something so few people have ever done? No one will ever be able to take that away from us. If we do it, if we leave the planet, we will carry that with us into every room we enter for the rest of our lives.”

Vanessa’s shoulders relaxed. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, that’s…” She shook her head and exhaled. “That’s exactly it.” She grew more animated by the second. “Every time Antonio talks about the program, I can feel this ache in my chest. Like I’d die to get that chance. Like nothing on Earth will ever matter to me as much as getting up there. It’s what I was born to do.”

Vanessa was so lit up that Joan forgot for a moment that she was right there next to her, that Vanessa was not onstage in a play or on a TV show.

“I want to make my niece proud,” Joan said when she remembered herself. “I want her to know that she can do anything.”

“See, even if I did want to screw you over to get assigned before you, I certainly can’t now. You’re too noble,” Vanessa said.

Joan laughed. “No, please, I insist you take the opportunity if it presents itself.”

Vanessa pretended to consider this. Then she said, “I mean, joking aside, if it does come down to you versus me, or me versus that guy Griff, or whatever—I hope I don’t do it with both elbows out, knocking everyone down. I hope I wait until I fully earn it instead of trying to steal the chance out from under someone. I want it bad, but still, I hope I do it right.”

“You know, my mom used to say something to me when I was a kid,” Joan said. “That you’re reminding me of.”

“What?”

“I always had the top grade in the class. And I would come home and brag about how I helped this boy who sat next to me who was struggling with times tables. Or I helped this girl with her spelling. Then one day, this boy joins our class and he’s really good at math. Not as good as me, but almost. And he asks me for help. And I told him I’d think about it. But…I didn’t want to. Bobby Simpson. I was so scared that he’d take the top score from me. I told my mom that I wasn’t going to help him, and my mom said that if I was going to be proud of myself for being generous, that I had to do it even when it meant I might lose something. She said, ‘You have to have something on the line, for it to be called character.’ ”