But I also kept scrolling through Sophie’s and Lex’s Instagram feeds. I couldn’t stop. Scroll. The two of them in rain jackets, standing in a puddle and laughing. Scroll. A bunch of girls from school, lying in sleeping bags and sticking their tongues out. Scroll. Sophie and Lex sharing a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater, where Jade said she’d seen them a few times. Those guys couldn’t do anything without making sure everyone knew how much fun they were having. Scroll.

Later that week, I was helping Harriet put together a display for the library on books about space. As the eclipse got closer and closer, you could feel the energy in the air. The town was starting to get packed, even with the rain. A couple of national news stations had already arrived, ready to see the eclipse in all its glory. Harriet and I pulled books on everything from space fantasy to Carl Sagan to my very own Katherine Johnson. I put out Goodnight Moon and Number the Stars and the Twilight series, too.

I was standing back to admire our handiwork when I heard the door open behind me. I couldn’t believe who I saw.

It was Dr. Leo Lacamoire himself, in a thick green raincoat with the hood up. It looked kind of ridiculous, to see such a stuffy guy in a raincoat with his hood pulled up, as if a hurricane was fast approaching and it was his job to report it.

“Hi there,” said Harriet. “Can I help you find something today?”

Dr. Lacamoire stared at me as if he was sure he knew me from somewhere, but wasn’t sure where.

“Hi, Dr. Lacamoire. It’s me—Abby McCourt?” I reminded him. “I came over about the raccoon!”

He shook his head. “Yes! Yes. Of course. Hello.”

We all stood there awkwardly. He glanced around, not moving.

“Um . . . sir? Can I help you find something?” Harriet repeated. “Something to cozy up with on this rainy day? Weatherman’s finally predicting clear skies for tomorrow; thank goodness.”

“No.” He blinked. “Actually—what am I saying? Yes. I’m looking for archives of the local newspaper.”

Harriet shook her head. “We don’t have a newspaper in Moose Junction. Not much happens here. Waukegan County has a website, though, and they used to have a paper. Waukegan Weekly. All of the issues are archived online. I can give you the library’s login if you’d like, and you can peruse on there.”

“That would be lovely. Thank you.” That accent again, and words like lovely. He was about as out of place in Moose Junction as a vegetarian. I mean, no offense to plant eaters, but when you live in a town where people mainly come to kill things and eat them, you just sort of stick out. We consider jerky a food group.

“I’ll get it for you,” said Harriet, walking to her computer.

“Nice display,” Dr. Lacamoire said, nodding toward the books. He picked up the one on Katherine Johnson and flipped through it.