“It’s pretty amazing,” I agreed.

We stood in silence, me looking through the telescope and him gazing out the window, until Simone spoke up.

“For cripes’ sake, Leo, get on with it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I got her here. I made her dinner. I’m not doing this part for you.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

Simone pointed at him. “We could have stayed in Cambridge. Had a nice, relaxing summer. Done some press for the eclipse, worked on your book. But no. You had a quest. I told you, she’s the best person to help with it.”

“She’s a child,” snapped Dr. Lacamoire.

“Uh, she’s right here,” I said.

And then, Dr. Leo Lacamoire did his signature thing. He leaned forward, ever so slightly, staring out the window as if he were looking for one of his new planets. The key to a new galaxy, out there spinning among the stars.

“Abigail,” he said slowly, “I’m on a quest. And you may be the only one who can help me.”

“Me?” I asked, surprised. Because as much as I’d felt like Dr. Leo Lacamoire was my summer adventure, that this MIT professor and brilliant astronomer was going to unlock some kind of new world right here in Moose Junction, it’s not like I thought it would actually happen. I thought summer would come and go, the tourists breezing in and out with their sunscreen and fishing licenses, the eclipse blazing across the sky and a million eyes glancing up. And then Dr. Leo Lacamoire would be gone, back out east where he came from to find new planets out there in the sky. And I would stay here, in a dot, in northern Wisconsin. Friendless. Sisterless. Like something drifting around in space.

A word like quest sounded a lot like destiny. And that was a word I wanted nothing to do with.

“The library,” he said, turning to look at me. “Moose Junction Library. You go there a lot. Nearly every day. You’re friends with the librarian.”

“Well, yeah. There’s not a lot to do here when it rains.”

“No! It’s more than that. You love that place. I can tell.” He tapped his forehead. “I’m a professor. I notice things that other people miss. The library is special to you. You know it very, very well.”

That was true. The library—to me, it meant peace. Escape, a one-way ticket out of the world’s smallest town. I could read words from people who understood loneliness and heartbreak, those big feelings that were so hard to put into words. I didn’t have a Big Summer Adventure, but I could make one of my own on those beanbag chairs. It was my favorite building in the entire world.

I nodded.

“This sounds ludicrous.” He shook his head. “But listen to me. Twenty years ago, something was buried in front of the library. It was a Moose Junction time capsule, to be rediscovered in one hundred years.”

A time capsule.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”