“You ready?” asked Dad. “Three weeks.”

I nodded. There was going to be a solar eclipse above North America, and little old Moose Junction had been named as the place to catch it at full totality. The moon would block the sun, and for a few minutes, it would be completely dark in the middle of the day. Our cabins had been booked for months, and there was going to be a huge viewing party on Main Street. The night of, Star Wars: A New Hope would be played on a huge projector to celebrate.

“Coontail’s in town is already sold out of eclipse glasses, but hopefully they’ll get another big shipment in,” said Dad, adjusting the telescope height. “Safety first and all that.”

“It’s gonna be awesome,” I said. Dad and I were the star people in our family. He taught astronomy during the school year at the community college three towns over. Mom and Jade usually thought the star maps scattered all over the attic were a bit much, but even they were stoked for the eclipse. Blair had been excited, too, before it all went to crap and she had to leave.

The telescope in the attic had been my twelfth birthday present last fall. I loved astronomy. It was basically just math in the sky. Everything could be measured or figured out or discovered with the right amount of time.

Because a person can have enough of passion, okay? Enough of art. A person can become tired of words like fury and fate and destiny and just want an answer. A person can want a world without big, wild, all-consuming feelings sometimes. Science was A + B = C, and maybe you didn’t know what C was, but you knew you could figure it out. Blair had been a dancer. It was her passion, she had said a million times, convincing Mom she needed to drop out of school and take private lessons. But the way the music had swept her into a swirling mess of hopes and dreams? I never wanted to feel like that in my life. I’d seen how it chewed you up and spat you out. Passion was one of those things that seemed so beautiful from far away, until you got up close and it reached its hands out to grab you.

“It’s really something, isn’t it?” said Dad, peering at the moon. “Of all the places in the world, Moose Junction is the place to be this summer.” Sure, we were known for our squeaky cheese curds and our musky competitions. But it’s not like people from the coasts were usually clamoring to spend their summer here.

Mom and Dad never told me much about business, but I knew that as more and more people wanted to go to places like Florida and Hawaii, fewer people were coming to the Northwoods. I didn’t really get why—if you’re going to be in the water, wouldn’t you rather have a dock than sand? And be surrounded by trees instead of hotels? Sure, you can catch a glimpse of the constellations anywhere. But the total lack of real highways or skyscrapers made seeing them here something special. I also knew that this summer was going to be a huge boost for my parents. I’d heard Mom call the eclipse a gift from God while sorting through cabin deposits.