I pushed open the door at the top. There he was, not through a telescope but standing five feet away from me: Dr. Leo Lacamoire, glasses low on his nose, looking intensely at something on his desk.

For a second, I just stared. Every inch of him was concentrating, from his shoulder blades to his knees. It was like he was trying to will a star into existence.

“Excuse me?” I said. The music was turned up so high you wouldn’t have heard Obi howl, let alone me.

“Excuse me?” I yelled. He jumped a foot in the air when he saw me, and screamed like a little kid. Which made me scream, too.

“Who are you? What are you doing up here?” he exclaimed over the music in a thick British accent.

“The raccoon,” I shouted.

“What?” he shouted back. I pointed to the speakers. He rolled his eyes dramatically before reaching over and turning the music down. He was going to have hearing loss one day if he kept his music that ear-piercing all the time. I was surprised a raccoon was brave enough to come in.

“The raccoon,” I said. “I’m Abby McCourt. My dad is the resort manager. He sent me here to tell you that he’ll be over really soon to fix the hole.”

“The hole?” He looked confused. Was this guy older than I thought? Maybe he had some kind of a memory issue. Before our grandma died, she used to call all three of us Julie, like my mom, or Elizabeth, who was some friend of hers growing up. She once showed up at the grocery store without her shoes on.

“In your door,” I said. “Simone came to the office and said you needed it fixed pronto.” Pronto? Why did I say that? It made me sound like a cowboy in an old movie. Nobody said words like pronto in real life. Something about Dr. Leo Lacamoire could make a person very nervous.

“Simone,” he said. “Yes, right. She’s in town. I told her I needed some room to breathe. I’m working, so, if you don’t mind . . .” He waved a hand across his desk as if to show me how busy he was. There were messy stacks of paper, and—

Telescopes.

Multiple telescopes. Fancy kinds that you’d see in a museum, all set up by the large window. And those weren’t just pieces of paper, they were star charts.

“You like stars?” I asked, surprised.

He looked at me like Jade looked at Obi when he burst into the bathroom as she got ready. Like, Out of my personal space, please. “Yes,” he said shortly.

I stood there awkwardly, a million thoughts circling my mind. Could I look through one of those telescopes? Was he a professional, or just one of those super serious nerds who went to conventions and stuff? Was he here for the eclipse? I didn’t want this to be my only interaction with Dr. Leo Lacamoire, apparent astronomer.