Chapters (27)
- Cover
- By Taylor Jenkins Reid
- Dedication
- Author’s Note
- December 29, 1984
- Seven Years Earlier
- Summer 1980
- December 29, 1984
- Fall 1980
- Spring 1981
- June 1981
- July 1981
- December 29, 1984
- August 1981
- Fall 1981
- Winter 1982
- Summer 1982
- Summer 1983
- Fall 1983
- Spring and Summer 1984
- Fall 1984
- The Day Before
- December 29, 1984
- Acknowledgments
- Further Reading
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Your commitment to the world around you. How much you care. You are so thoughtful. About everything.”
Joan suspected that liking the view of herself through Vanessa’s eyes was dangerous. She just wasn’t sure how.
“Why are you telling me this?” Joan said.
“Because I understand why it isn’t me who is in the lead for the first mission of our group,” she said. “But I don’t know why it isn’t you.”
“I think sometimes you…”
“Sometimes I what?” Vanessa said, leaning forward, daring her to finish.
“I’m not as great as you think I am,” Joan said.
Vanessa smiled. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t kill my dream. Let me think you’re the best astronaut in the class. Can you give me that? Let me think that right now, the wrong woman won, okay? Let the world be as I see it for just tonight. Without too many gray areas and caveats. Where I know I’m mortal but I’m not sure that you’re not a god,” she said. And then her voice got barely above a whisper as she leaned in. “Can you do that for me?”
And what escaped Joan’s lips was “Yes.”
June 1981
The whole group of ASCANs traveled to the National Space Technology Laboratories in Mississippi. On the way back, they opted to spend the night in New Orleans.
Joan had wanted to get back to Houston to see if she could pick Frances up from school on Monday, but she had been outvoted. She called Barbara from a pay phone in the lobby of the hotel to let her know.
“I swear, Joan,” Barbara said. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Joan sighed. “C’mon. Because I’m staying an extra night on a work trip? Don’t you think you’re overstating it?” She looked at the buttons on the phone, the deep grime of the numbers, the one and the zero worn down more than the others. “Just let Frances know I’ll pick her up Tuesday, okay?”
“I mean, fine. But she’s struggling, Joan. I know she doesn’t say it, but she misses you. She’s been very crabby lately, a little rude, honestly.”
“Okay,” Joan said. “Well, I will see her Tuesday. Please tell her when she gets home from school.”
When Joan walked away from the pay phone, Vanessa was standing in the lobby.
“You’re coming with us to Bourbon Street,” Vanessa said.
“Do I have to?”
“That’s the spirit,” Vanessa said. “Donna wants to go shopping before we go out. And specifically requested our attendance.”
Joan considered this.
“You think I want to go look at dresses?” Vanessa said. “But we can’t leave her with Lydia. You’re coming.”
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