Afterward, we were in the parking lot getting ready to go. Blair was with us, but she was just coming home to shower before going to sleep over at her friend Elisha’s house. A man ran up to our family, his nose delicately pointed in the air, his wrinkly hands holding out a card.

“I own the most superior dance studio in the Midwest,” he said stiffly. “My studio’s in Milwaukee. Auditions are over, but for a dancer of your caliber, I suppose I could open a spot. Is she homeschooled?”

“What?” asked Dad.

“Homeschooled,” he said impatiently. “Do you go to school? Most dancers in the Aleksander Alekseev’s Milwaukee School for Classical Ballet devote half of their day to ballet.”

“School? She has to go to school,” Dad said.

But what my mom said, in a soft voice was, “Company? You want her to dance on a company team?”

And that was how Blair was put on the path to stardom. Because we didn’t get into the car fast enough.

We didn’t know, then. We couldn’t see. And that’s the story of the universe, pretty much—guessing, fumbling around in the dark. Trying to figure out what happens next. Doing the best you can with the information that you have, until you learn more.

It would be easy to blame ballet, or Aleksander. My mom does. But I think there was something in Blair that whole time. Anna Rexia was always there, like a little seed, waiting to be watered. Sure, Aleksander Alekseev’s Milwaukee School for Classical Ballet handed it to her. But Blair was the one who listened.

That night, Dad and I looked at the stars through my telescope.

“It’s mind-boggling how far away they are,” he said. “They feel so close, like we could reach out and touch them, don’t they?”

But they weren’t. You could fly for hours and hours, years and years, and not even come close to some of those stars. They looked small enough to fit in your pocket, but they were actually gigantic.

It’s crazy, really, how different things are from how they look.

17

AUGUST, PRESENT DAY

Twelve years old

The morning of the eclipse, I woke up early. I could hear Mom running around downstairs, throwing a pile of laundry in the wash and tripping over Obi’s bowl of food.

When I got to the living room, Dad was already watching the news. He stood behind the couch, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was so bizarre to see Main Street in the background of every major news channel. There were journalists from the Today show standing in front of Java Jane’s. I saw Harrison in the background, his very own ten seconds of fame. Jade was parked at the kitchen table eating cereal.

“Hey, kiddo!” said Dad. “Today’s the big day! I thought we’d head over around twelve o’clock. Make sure we get prime seating!”

“The eclipse is happening in the sky,” said Jade, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to miss it.”