“I missed this guy too.” Bridget kissed his soft plastic helmet. “You know, Mama gave him to me when I turned three. That means he’s older than you are!”

“Na-ah Beah.” Nova tapped her sister’s hand with NASA Bear’s paw. She wanted Bridget to know he’d missed her too.

“I can’t believe they put you in a group home. Me too, by the way. I was in one for teens.” Bridget dropped her voice so the girls in the other set of bunk beds couldn’t hear. “That rotten Mrs. Steele said it was temporary, just until they found a house to take us both, but I’ll never let that happen again, okay?”

“Kay-kay.”

“Oh-kay?”

“Oh-kay.”

“I mean it.” Bridget held one of Nova’s hands between hers. Nova did not pull away. “Even if they put us in different states—no, different countries…No, different planets!—even if they put us on different planets, I’ll still find a way to get back to you. I promise.”

For the first time, it occurred to Nova that if she didn’t know where to send Bridget’s letters, how would Bridget know where to find her? A sick feeling twisted up in her gut. She would have to wish on three bright stars that Bridget already knew about Billy and Francine.

But even if Bridget did know about Billy and Francine, what if Mrs. Steele moved Nova again before the launch? What if the Wests decided they didn’t want a girl who didn’t do her best job during testing? What if they couldn’t handle her anymore?

What if Bridget arrived at Jefferson Middle School to find that Nova was gone? Nova bit down hard on her lip, shook her head one-two-three-four times, and tried her hardest to concentrate on what Mrs. Pierce was asking her to do, but with tears stinging her eyes it was hard to see the blocks she was supposed to be stacking.

Later in Mr. O’Reilly’s room, Nova and Mary-Beth colored maps of the United States while the rest of the class talked about Russia’s iron curtains, then all the girls lined up like ducklings to go to home economics while the boys went down to woodshop.

“Welcome, welcome, class!” The home economics teacher ushered them in. Nova liked her right away. She looked like Strega Nona, that old lady from the picture book, short and plump with gray hair, a long apron, a huge nose, and an oversized bosom that prompted Nova to glance down at her own flat chest and wonder if she would ever fill out like Bridget had in middle school. She placed her hands over her nonexistent boobs, checking for signs of growth. Nothing.

“Nova!” snapped Miss Chambers. “Hands out of your overalls!”