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Back Little Universes Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part 1
  6. Mae
  7. Hannah
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part 2
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Part 3
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. Epilogue
  59. Mental Health Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  62. About the Author
  63. Newsletter Sign-up

The possibility of letting myself go to Annapolis unfurls inside me, a spiral galaxy of light and color.

“The ISS is only two hundred twenty miles above Earth,” I say. “So, actually, you know, depending on where I am in its orbit and where you are … it might be closer than if we lived in different states. I mean, technically.”

She grins. “I love you, weirdo.”

I wrap my arms around my sister, crush her against me. “I love you, too. To infinity and beyond.”

Part 3

Little Universes

39

Mae

ISS Location: Low-Earth Orbit

Earth Date: 16 April

Earth Time (EST): 13:24

I AM GOING TO ANNAPOLIS.

I have carried my acceptance letter with me for the past day, and I’ve pulled it out so many times to reread it that the paper has become fuzzy almost.

I am going to Annapolis.

I am going to Annapolis, and I can’t tell my dad.

I am going to become a fighter pilot, and then a test pilot, and then an astronaut. I am going to watch the sun rise and set over Earth sixteen times a day.

And I can’t tell my dad.

The picnic was Nah’s idea. She said one of Jo’s rules is that you have to celebrate everything and that getting into my dream school constitutes as something and everything.

It’s a warm April day, perfect for lying around on Boston Common and eating Aunt Nora’s red velvet cupcakes.

I begged Nah not to play matchmaker and invite Ben. I made her swear on Yoko Ono’s life. And then I made Nate swear on SpaceX’s budget.

So Ben won’t be there.

Which is good. I think my experiment is working. It hurts now, yes. A lot, to be honest. Four months without Ben has been very extremely difficult. But I know that once I leave, once I go to Annapolis, this feeling will fade. I am an adolescent. As my hormones calibrate, these intense sensations will subside. It doesn’t make sense to be together when I’m just going to get on a plane in June. Long-distance relationships are highly inefficient, and, more important, I am in training to be a self-sufficient astronaut. I can’t be worrying about a boy when I’m trying not to crash a twenty-four-MILLION-dollar fighter jet or going through my preflight checklist in Star City, Russia. In being the one to leave, in severing ties, I am making the best decision for this mission. This mission being my life.

Still, I wish there were a heartbreak sim.

That hole in my chest is so big now, I’m surprised everyone can’t see straight through me. I thought Annapolis would patch it up, somehow, but I feel almost worse. Which makes no sense. I even took my temperature yesterday, because I thought maybe I had mono or an undiagnosed respiratory condition. But I don’t.