The parabolas, when executed properly, simulated microgravity.

They also made a lot of people sick. Especially Joan.

On the KC-135 with Lydia, Hank, Teddy, and Jimmy, Joan seemed to be the only one calculating how quickly she could grab the barf bag from her pocket.

It was her first time on the plane, and they were approaching the third moment of weightlessness. The first two times, she had barely kept her food down. Putting on her blue flight suit that morning, she had felt like an astronaut. But now, as she lay flat on the floor of the aircraft as it ascended again, she felt like a child.

“Maybe we should land so Joan can get off.” Lydia was seated in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. “She seems a little pale.”

Joan wanted so badly to understand Lydia. She always corrected everyone, always had some way to cut Joan or Donna or Vanessa down. But even if it was a competitive strategy, there was no need for it. Lydia was already a clear favorite of Antonio’s—Donna and Joan had seen Antonio out with Lydia and Griff for dinner more than once. And she was picking up every class lesson quickly, not just those in her field of study. If anyone was pulling ahead of the class, it was Lydia.

“I am fine, Lydia, thank you,” Joan said.

Jimmy huffed. “She’ll have to be a big girl.”

“I said, I’ve got it,” Joan said.

Jimmy put his hands up as if she were about to shoot.

She tried not to roll her eyes, or he’d make a comment about that, too. But he didn’t have to say anything else. The subtext was clear: This is why women don’t belong on the shuttle. Last week, he’d asked Lydia if she was going to be bitchy if she got her period in space. Lydia had laughed, and Joan had had to clench her jaw to keep it shut.

“I almost puked my first time,” Hank said to Joan. “No shame in it.”

Joan closed her eyes. Bless Hank for trying. But she did not need to be consoled, either. She just needed everyone to shut up.

As the plane began to rise once more, Joan felt the air gain heft underneath her, and her stomach somersaulted.

Her body rose into the air. As she lifted farther, Joan closed her eyes like she had all of the other times. She’d thought that weightlessness would feel like floating in a pool. But to her, it felt more like being thrashed around in the ocean. She braced against it, but that didn’t work. She tried to think of it differently, to remember the times she’d swum past the breakers and felt the ocean lift her briefly as the waves surged and then gently brought her back down. She thought of being in the ocean with Barbara as a kid, the way Barbara had clung to her, and Joan would tell her she was okay.