It seemed nice—the idea of capturing a moment just as it was. Maybe that was why Sophie and Lex felt the need to post every single thing they did on their iPhones. I thought of the photo from the newspaper. Those poor people from twenty years ago didn’t know about all the bad stuff that would happen afterward, all the sad things taking place in the world. Mom didn’t even like to have the TV on because there was always some serious-looking newscaster talking about bombs or wars or car crashes. When Moose Junction residents put together their time capsule, it was like they were taking a picture of a time everything was perfect. What came next was just a big empty slate—until real life set in, taking over.

I suddenly felt bad about uncovering the time capsule. Didn’t those people, like my own grandma, deserve to leave their stuff buried in a nice safe box? Weren’t some things better left underground?

Jade let out a particularly loud snore and I knew the coast was clear. The TV had been turned off in Mom and Dad’s room, too; they usually went to sleep early.

I got out of bed as quietly as possible and pulled on a black sweatshirt of Jade’s that I had grabbed from her closet. I tiptoed down the stairs, past a sleeping Norwegian elkhound, and out the door.

The bike ride to the library wasn’t far, but it was chilly out. By the time I showed up, Simone and Leo were already walking around with their detectors.

“You look like a bank robber,” said Simone.

“You look like a neon sign,” I shot back. She had on a bright purple jacket you could see from a million miles away. Leo was in an MIT sweatshirt, which was at least a darker gray.

“Just get to looking, stargazer,” she said, shoving the third metal detector into my hand.

We split up and walked around the grounds to cover our bases. Just because the photo was taken out front of the library didn’t mean the capsule was actually buried there. Simone went to the side of the building, and Leo and I stayed out front, walking slowly with our metal detectors. I kept peering down the street. I had talked a big talk earlier, but this wasn’t illegal, was it? Officer J.J. couldn’t haul us off to jail? Was a library public property? I couldn’t help stealing glances up at the sky, too. There were so many stars out, it felt like we were in a painting. The Big Dipper danced across the sky, so easy to find, even without a telescope. No matter what craziness was happening down here on Earth, those stars just kept doing their thing.

“So,” said Dr. Lacamoire. “You want to write a book?”

“What?” My breath came out in a puff of air.

“Joanna,” he said. “Why else would you want to meet her?”

I was glad he couldn’t see how awkward I looked. Some people will just tell anyone who will listen what their dreams are. Hand them a megaphone and they’ll go to town. Like Jade’s friend Cassidee who’s always blabbing about how the second she turns eighteen she’s moving to Los Angeles and becoming an actress. Guess what? If it doesn’t happen because, hello, tons of people want to be on TV, everyone will be embarrassed for her. If you really want something, you shouldn’t tell the world about it. Then when it all goes to crap, the only person who thinks you’re stupid is you.