BooksBarbecue
Back Stargazing for Beginners Save as PDF
Contents ( 64)
  1. A Letter from the Author
  2. ONE
  3. TWO
  4. THREE
  5. FOUR
  6. FIVE
  7. SIX
  8. SEVEN
  9. EIGHT
  10. NINE
  11. TEN
  12. ELEVEN
  13. TWELVE
  14. THIRTEEN
  15. FOURTEEN
  16. FIFTEEN
  17. SIXTEEN
  18. SEVENTEEN
  19. EIGHTEEN
  20. NINETEEN
  21. TWENTY
  22. TWENTY-ONE
  23. TWENTY-TWO
  24. TWENTY-THREE
  25. TWENTY-FOUR
  26. TWENTY-FIVE
  27. TWENTY-SIX
  28. TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. TWENTY-NINE
  31. THIRTY
  32. THIRTY-ONE
  33. THIRTY-TWO
  34. THIRTY-THREE
  35. THIRTY-FOUR
  36. THIRTY-FIVE
  37. THIRTY-SIX
  38. THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. THIRTY-NINE
  41. FORTY
  42. FORTY-ONE
  43. FORTY-TWO
  44. FORTY-THREE
  45. FORTY-FOUR
  46. FORTY-FIVE
  47. FORTY-SIX
  48. FORTY-SEVEN
  49. FORTY-EIGHT
  50. FORTY-NINE
  51. FIFTY
  52. FIFTY-ONE
  53. FIFTY-TWO
  54. FIFTY-THREE
  55. FIFTY-FOUR
  56. FIFTY-FIVE
  57. FIFTY-SIX
  58. FIFTY-SEVEN
  59. FIFTY-EIGHT
  60. FIFTY-NINE
  61. SIXTY
  62. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  63. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  64. ONE

I hover outside Mum’s door until I’m sure Elsa’s asleep, then I drift round the flat, doing all the things I’ve not been able to do during the week. I get some washing-up done, start the washing machine and finally get the paddling pool out from behind the sofa and put it away. As I’m trying to force it back into its box, I think about what Ed said when he realised he had to go and find his mum: ‘Thanks for the science lesson, Meg, it was electrifying.’

I shove the paddling pool box to the back of the cupboard.

Electrifying? What does that even mean?

I go into my room, open the window, and flop down on my bed. I don’t turn on the light. Instead, I lie in the dark and stare up at the perfect semicircle of the moon. Was Ed saying hanging out with me was good? Or was he talking about the electric shock? Maybe he was just being sarcastic … Who knows.

A sudden breeze from the window makes the planets on my mobile spin. I raise my finger – the one Ed touched – and with it, I trace the outline of the moon. What I do know is that, right now, I can still hear the laughter from the children when the melon landed in the flour and I can still feel the tingle from when my finger touched Ed’s.

What I do know is that right now, I feel alive.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Grandad decides to cook us Sunday lunch, or rather he shoves a couple of jacket potatoes in the microwave and opens a tin of beans. This suits me. I much prefer eating canned food when I’m at Grandad’s. He has too much furry stuff growing in his fridge.

After we’ve eaten, Elsa lies on the floor scrunching up the newspaper while I try out my presentation on Grandad. I’m still filled with confidence from the Cool Cosmos workshop and I want to make the most of it before it slips away from me again.

Grandad sits on the sofa, arms folded, and I stand in front of him holding my speech cards. I read each one in turn and Grandad listens intently as I describe in detail the biomolecules required to start life on a planet, the pros and cons of G- and K-type stars, and how it’s possible to photograph exoplanets. Every now and then, he calls out, ‘Eye contact, Meg, eye contact!’ and I force my eyes to shoot up to meet his for a moment before going back to the cards.

By the time I get to the end, I’m hot and flustered, but I did it and I feel a surge of triumph as I look at Grandad. ‘What do you think?’

‘Hmmm,’ he says, tapping his lip with his finger.

‘Hmmm?’ I say, and all my triumph trickles away from me. It took weeks to write the speech and it’s complex and detailed and basically as good as I can get it. I know the delivery wasn’t perfect but that’s the best I’ve read it yet, and anyhow, I thought Grandad would see through how I was speaking and still love what I was actually saying. ‘What’s wrong with it?’