Nova did not answer. She just sniffled. She was happy with Bridget, but she wanted Mama too.

“Super Nova?” Bridget nudged her. “Did I ever tell you about the day you were born?”

Nova did not answer. She hugged NASA Bear, snuggled closer to Bridget, and closed her eyes.

“You were born on July nineteenth, 1973,” Bridget whispered. “It was the hottest day of the whole year. Mama had the radio on all morning, dancing while we waited for you. She said dancing would help you come faster. When it was time, we grabbed the bag for the hospital, and she asked me to take the radio too, the one with batteries. She didn’t listen to static then. She only listened to music. Mama loved music, like me.”

Nova smiled. Bridget loved music and she loved to sing. Nova loved listening to her sing.

“It was just us, me and Mama, until you came. Daddy was already gone. He got sent to Vietnam before Christmas to fight some guy named Charlie, but he promised to be back before you were born. He promised and we believed him so we waited and waited.”

Nova kissed NASA Bear’s helmet. She’d never met her daddy. They were still waiting.

“First the army said he was missing. Later they said he was KIA. That means Killed in Action. Then Mama said sometimes people make promises they can’t keep and she cried. She cried a lot, for days and days. But that’s another story. On the day you were born, we still thought Daddy was coming back.”

Nova had only one picture of Daddy, standing beside a flag. He looked like Bridget if Bridget was a grown-up man in an army uniform. They had the same round face, the same broad shoulders, and the same crooked smile. Nova looked more like Mama. Small nose, delicate hands, frazzled hair. That was all Nova really remembered about how Mama looked, and the only picture she had left of Mama didn’t show her face.

“When I first saw you, you looked all red and angry and wailing. I asked Mama what was wrong and she said maybe you were more comfortable in her tummy than in her arms, but she was laughing about it. I wasn’t laughing. You hurt my ears!”

Nova smiled. She liked picturing Bridget with her hands over her ears. She knew how it felt to have hurt ears.

“She also said when you were born your face was blue, so red was an improvement. I asked what your name was. She said she didn’t pick one yet.”

“Oh-ah,” said Nova, tapping her chest under the covers.

“That’s right,” said Bridget. “Nova. Good job saying it.”

Nova smiled. She liked hearing “good job” for saying her name. Those N and V sounds were hard!