That telescope was being returned, and it was being returned today.

Dad and I walked around for a little bit, just taking it all in. I glanced at my phone. The eclipse was starting in only thirty minutes. I had to get moving.

“Harriet!” She was sitting outside of Java Jane’s at a card table, with a handmade banner reading Save the Library draped across the front.

“Hey, Abby,” she said. “This is perfect, isn’t it? I’ve been in the background of, like, four news cameras so far. Maybe if we got some national publicity, people could start sending in some dollar bills. Lord, it’s hot out here.” She fanned herself with her clipboard.

“That’s awesome,” I said. “Are you getting lots of signatures?”

“Tons,” she said.

I said goodbye and Dad gave me a Look. The Look clearly said: Poor Harriet. Keep your expectations nice and low. That library is going down, signatures or not.

It was hard, though, not to feel hopeful just then. The energy on Main Street made the entire town feel electric. Everyone’s eyes were upward, toward the sky, wondering, When? How? What will it be like? You couldn’t not feel hopeful, in a place like that. I understood Leo just then—knowing the truth about hope’s frailty but placing all his bets on it anyway. Because what, really, was the alternative?

Someone grabbed my arm. When I whipped around, I was surprised—it was Simone. Our plan had been to avoid each other all day. We didn’t want to cause any suspicion. Leo’s paranoia had worn off on me.

“He wants to go,” she said through her teeth. I glanced over at my dad, who was chatting excitedly with Harrison.

“What?”

“Leo. He wants to be there when you dig the stupid thing up. I swear to God, this is the last crazy thing I do for this man. I’m quitting in the morning. But until then, I’m under strict orders to grab you and bring you to the library.”

“I’m riding my bike!” I insisted.

“Not anymore.”

“He can’t come,” I said, almost out of breath. “The CNN interview. The alibi . . .”

“He doesn’t care. Oh, Abby, he’s lost his mind,” said Simone, shaking her head. “He wants this telescope so badly. He wants it the second it’s dug up. He’s skipping the CNN thing, and he wants to be with you when it happens. There’s no talking sense to him.”

Crap. This was not the plan. I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Simone! He can’t be there. Telescope goes missing, famous astronomer, hello?”

“I can’t. I tried.”

“Then you don’t need me,” I said desperately. “Dig it up on your own.”

“He wants you there. You’ve helped us so much. This is your thing, too. He wants to do it together, so you get a chance to see it.”

I put my face in my hands. Suddenly, I saw: I didn’t want to rescue that stupid telescope. I didn’t want an introduction to Joanna Creech. I wanted this whole thing to disappear. I couldn’t do this. The determination that I had felt so strongly only a minute ago had sailed away like a tourist on a boat, flying off across Fishtrap Lake into the sunset.