I wanted nothing more right then than to look through my telescope, but it was still insanely cloudy. I shut my laptop and pulled my notebook out from under my bed, feeling my hand brush against a library book I thought I’d lost and a few more of Abby’s Life Artifacts. What’s beneath someone’s bed can sometimes tell you a lot about them. Blair had piles of old pointe shoes she couldn’t make herself throw away. Jade had dirty clothes she was too lazy to bring to the laundry room. This notebook was where I usually wrote Planet Pirates drafts before adding the final version to our actual project. Sometimes I had nightmares of dying in some catastrophe and someone finding the crappy stories I’d written in it. Ha! She thought she had such talent, they would chuckle at my funeral. She should have stuck to stargazing.

I curled up in bed with my notebook, but I couldn’t even write. I needed Blair’s drawings first. That was how we did it. I felt sad for Princess Stardust, lonely and stuck. I wanted her to hurry up and be saved.

Jade burst into the room, smelling like popcorn. She saw what I was holding.

“I thought you two were done with your stories,” she said, peering over my shoulder.

I closed it. “Just looking.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re going to be carrying that thing around when you go to college. When the Sugar Plum Fairy’s on Broadway or whatever.”

My face got hot and I shoved the notebook back under the bed. “Jealous. You still draw stick figures.”

“Right. Like I don’t have better things to do than draw stupid aliens. I have a job. And friends. Unlike you.”

“They’re not stupid!”

She reached over and turned the light off. “Stop living in la-la land and go to sleep.”

As we walked to Eagle’s Nest the next evening to have dinner with Dr. Leo Lacamoire, all I could think about was that TED Talk. To spend your day finding new planets sounded like the coolest thing ever. He had to be here for the eclipse.

I lifted my hand to knock on the door, but it swung open. Standing there was Simone, in jeans and a black T-shirt.

“Saw you coming,” she said cheerfully, kicking the door the rest of the way open. She had an oven mitt on. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“We certainly are,” Mom assured her.

“Shoes off?” asked Dad as we stepped in.

“That would be great. He’s kind of a neat freak,” she whispered. We kicked off our shoes and walked farther into the foyer, where we heard the music. More classical. Those rising and falling violins made you feel like you were at the ballet. Blair would never eat lasagna. Pasta plus cheese plus buttery bread equals Blair’s Worst Nightmare.

As if she could read my mind, Simone asked where my sister was. Mom, Dad, and I looked at each other, kind of surprised. Had news about Blair really made it to them already?