“At sunset, when the sun is low, the light has to travel farther through the atmosphere than it does at noon, when the sun shines straight at us. That means more of the blue and green light is scattered away, leaving predominantly yellows and oranges. That’s why the sun appears redder at sunset. Remember, it’s not actually red. It’s the scattering of light that makes it seem that way to our eyes.”

I finished laying out the telescope parts, and as I compared them with the guide in the instructions, I realized something was wrong. The objective lens—the one that went at the far end of the telescope—was missing. I looked inside the case, but it was empty. Without the lens, the telescope wouldn’t work.

I sat down in the camping chair, disappointed, and looked back at the TV. Grandpa had moved on to discussing how mirages worked to bend light, creating illusions like the vision of shimmering water over a desert. He smiled almost conspiratorially at the camera. “This is what is so amazing about science. It can show you what is really happening. You may think you see something, but in fact it’s something else.”

My phone rang, the sound cutting through the still air. I immediately hoped it was Steph, but just as quickly knew it couldn’t be. She didn’t have my number.

I picked up my phone from the table and read International Caller. There was only one person I knew who would have that ID. She was in Munich for an opera festival. I wondered what finally made her call me. I paused the video and answered the phone.

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

“Aria, how are you?” she said. My mom had a slight Chinese accent when she spoke English. She spoke French and German, too, but I wasn’t sure if the accent carried over to those languages.

“Fine.” I waited for her to acknowledge the rocky way we had left things.

I heard the clink of porcelain against a table on her end of the phone, and I realized it was after midnight where she was. If she had just returned from the opera house, she would be drinking an herbal tea for her throat. This was when she usually called me, and as if everything were completely normal, she asked, “How is your summer going?”

With a sinking feeling, I realized she wasn’t going to acknowledge anything. “Fine,” I repeated.

“What are you occupying yourself with? I hope you’re taking advantage of this time to prepare yourself for college. MIT’s going to be a lot harder than high school.”