Bridget scrambled about two-thirds of the way up the tree house ladder, which was really a bunch of uneven boards nailed into the tree. Nova followed slowly, cautiously, clinging to the trunk, afraid to fall even though it was only a couple of feet to the ground. Collins and Ride hopped on the ladder after her, though Ride muttered something about “Bossy Bridget.”

“Okay, Ground Control? It’s your job to help get us in the air. President Nixon, take your wife and dog over there. You’ll be waiting for confirmation once we make it out of Earth’s atmosphere. President Kennedy, before he died, swore we’d make it to the moon before the decade’s end. It’s already the middle of 1969. We’re running out of time. Let’s show those Russian cosmonauts who’s winning the space race! Let’s do it for President Kennedy!”

“For Kennedy!” shouted the Ground Control twins, pumping their fists in the air.

“It’s nine-thirty a.m.” Bridget pretended to check her watch. “T-minus two minutes.”

Nova’s tummy fluttered. She knew it was pretend but at the same time it felt so real. She blinked as the forest around them faded. In two minutes she knew she would be soaring above the clouds and into the dark abyss of the universe beyond tiny planet Earth. She was scared but excited.

“Ten, nine, eight…”

Everyone except Nova and Checkers the dog counted down.

“Seven, six, five…”

Bridget nudged Nova. She wanted her to count too.

Nova tried.

“Foh, tee, two, uhn…”

Lift-off!

The four on the ladder scrambled up to their space shuttle tree house. It had two rooms. The room in front, where the ladder led, had a balcony railing attached from one tree branch to another. Sally Ride and Nova held on to it, watching the stars slip by on either side, while Collins and Bridget-as-Buzz moved to the back room, pretending to mess with controls.

“Success!” shouted Bridget. “A perfect launch!”

“They made it!” President Nixon hugged his wife. “We’re going to the moon, Pat! Ahead of those Soviets. Eat our space dust!”

“I don’t think President Nixon would say ‘Eat our space dust,’ ” snickered one of the Ground Control Twins. The others laughed too, but not Bridget or Nova, because space is serious business.

“No fooling around!” Bridget ordered. “That’s how mistakes are made.”

The Ground Control Twins turned back to their controls, adjusting acorn knobs, pretending to speak to the shuttle through a pinecone.

“Apollo 11, this is Ground Control. What’s your status?”

Bridget-as-Buzz spoke into her own pinecone. “Ground Control, it’s been three days and we’re now in lunar orbit. All systems still go? We good for a soft landing on the moon? Has to be a soft landing. A hard landing could destroy the craft and kill us all.”

“Sure thing,” answered a Ground Control Twin. “Bring her down.”