“Yes. All kinds of things were buried in it. Baseball cards, pressed flowers . . .” He waved a hand in the air, as if to say nonsense. “But also! A telescope.”

I froze.

“Why would someone put a telescope in a time capsule?” I asked. What good was a machine meant for looking at the sky buried underground?

“Not just any telescope. A Star-Gazer Twelve.”

A Star-Gazer Twelve wasn’t a telescope. It was a magic wand. It made stars and planets feel as if they were inches away. I’d never seen one in my life, except at the planetarium in Chicago during our fifth-grade field trip there. I hadn’t even looked through it; it was just part of some demonstration. Trevor King had been making fart noises every time the astronomer bent over to look through it.

I must have made a face, because he smiled proudly.

“Aha! Yes, I knew you were the girl for the job,” Dr. Lacamoire said, beaming. “I told you, Simone, didn’t I? I told you! The girl is smart! She knows her telescopes! She knows the importance of seeing what is out there in the world and understanding it!”

“I believe I told you,” said Simone flatly.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I don’t . . . I don’t understand.”

Dr. Leo Lacamoire crossed his arms, cool as a cucumber. All his plans were falling into place. His research was finally paying off.

“We’re going to find where that time capsule is buried. We’re going to dig it up. And we’re going to restore that Star-Gazer Twelve to its rightful owner.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Me.”

7

LAST JANUARY

Twelve years old

Almost seven months before Dr. Leo Lacamoire reeled me in with garlic bread and invited me to join his quest, before he nearly shed a tear over the disappearance of his beloved Star-Gazer Twelve and hatched a plot that would return it to its rightful owner, Blair had the biggest audition of her life.

The Joffrey Ballet School Trainee Program was a four-year apprenticeship meant to take devoted ballerinas and turn them into superstars. After the program, they’d be whisked away to Paris or Moscow or Los Angeles and dance with the most elite companies in the world. They would stretch higher, bend further, and point longer. They would be molded into professionals, after dancing for eight hours a day for four long years in New York City.

The Joffrey was all Blair had ever wanted since she was a little kid. For as long as I could remember, Blair had been dancing, first at Sweet Toes Ballet School in downtown Cedar Valley before getting plucked out and put on a real company team in Milwaukee. Aleksander planted the Joffrey seed and steadily watered it, letting it grow and grow like a weed that took over her whole brain. She’d get wide-eyed, talking about it and pulling up photos of the Joffrey dancers. All of them so tall, elegant, strong.