“She’s trying,” I said angrily.

“Wow, yeah, she’s really trying. Caleb told Mom everything. About how Blair’s been lying about dinner. About how he found those stupid lunches Mom has been packing her to take to dance all stuffed in her closet! She’s throwing her entire life away and you’re like, la-di-dah, Blair’s perfect, whatever, everything’s fine. She could have killed somebody in that car. Someone could be dead. She could be dead!”

“Go away,” I spat out.

“Grow up,” she snapped back.

I jumped off my bed and left our room, slamming the door behind me.

Blair, my hero Blair, the Princess Stardust of my real life. Blair who could dance on her toes and perform in front of hundreds of people. Blair, who crumpled up bad guys and stomped them under her feet. That was what I had thought, our whole lives. Had Blair changed, or was this—this liar, this sneaky person, this sick girl—who she’d been all along? Maybe I had never known her at all.

Do you want to know the worst thing in the entire world? When you’ve hoped that hope, let it fly, but then watch it get shot to the ground. When it’s ashes at your feet. When Anna Rexia does fouettés and piqué turns on those ashes, laughing as she spins at how you could have ever been so stupid as to think things were better than they truly were.

6

AUGUST, PRESENT DAY

Twelve years old

I was up all night googling Dr. Leo Lacamoire.

Or should I say: Dr. Leo Lacamoire, PhD, professor of astronomy and astrophysics, graduate of Oxford University, special interest in detecting and characterizing extrasolar planets, world-renowned expert on gamma-ray bursts. Visitor to the White House on three separate occasions, featured expert on the National Geographic channel, History Channel, and Weather Channel. Guest star on some comedy show about nerdy geniuses. Had his own Netflix special. Author of countless studies and three books, including ExtraPlanets: Looking for Life Beyond Our Solar System, which was dedicated to his editor, Joanna Creech.

Dr. Leo Lacamoire had given a TED Talk on finding new planets. I watched it four times. He strode across the stage in dress pants and a white shirt, waving his arms around but talking very intensely.

“The key to finding new planets isn’t finding the planet itself. It’s finding things affected by that planet. Planets can’t act in isolation. Astronomers will notice gravitational pulls, changes in light color, or a shadow dimming the light of a nearby star. Planets are not solitary beings; they affect the world around them in—pardon my pun—astronomical ways.” The audience chuckled. Then he gripped the podium and leaned in, which I could already notice was his trademark serious-business move.

“When we’re looking for a new planet, we don’t look for a new planet. We look for the things around it changing. We look for its effect on the world. It’s only a matter of time before a planet makes itself known.”