They were pictures.

Pictures of butts.

A hundred pictures of butts. Big butts, too. Gigantic butts with stretch marks and wrinkles.

Talia’s face was red, and her mouth a knife-sharp line.

What in the world are you supposed to say to someone when you’re kneeling in the hallway, scooping up butts?

We picked up every last picture and crumpled them and threw them in the trash. Talia’s face was still stretched tight and if I were Dustin Pierce I’d have been terrified of the way Talia’s hand was clenching in a fist.

Sometimes knowing the right thing to say would be really nice. But I didn’t know.

I remembered the Silent Questions this time. I thought all the things I wanted to say and ask and put them out into the universe. I wanted to tell Talia that I was on her team. That I was her friend. Was that something people usually said silently?

The Silent Questions helped in my own head. I knew I was at least trying to say the right thing, and my stomach didn’t feel as fluttery. I didn’t know how much the Silent Questions were helping Talia. Maybe someone can be too angry to hear the Silent Questions you and the universe are asking them, at least for a while. And I didn’t blame her. Not one bit.

Finally I said, “Do you think we should tell someone?”

Talia slammed her locker shut and picked up her backpack. “Don’t you dare say one word.”

First Draft

I pulled the instruction sheet out of my backpack first thing when I got home and set it on my desk. On my computer I started a list of the things I wanted to talk about in my letter. About Cecilia growing up in England and then moving to the United States. About her kids. About her job at Harvard, and about how she figured out what stars are made of.

The Knight-Rowell Publishing website had a contact form. After working on my list, I zoomed over to their site and started filling in the form. I put in my name, my email, and then I wrote about how I wanted to talk to them about a great idea. An idea I knew they would love. An idea for a new edition of the textbook that would include Cecilia Payne.

Then I held my breath. Click. SEND.

Once I heard back from Knight-Rowell Publishing, the project could officially get started.

The instructions for the contest said that the winners would be contacted one month after the deadline. That meant that next spring, I could be the winner of twenty-five thousand dollars. Nonny could be planning for that house or rent or whatever would help the most. Cecilia would keep Nonny’s baby safe. It meant that in March, Nonny could start planning on bringing Thomas home. Instead of missing a piece in my own body, I’d fix a missing piece in the lives of the people I loved.

I could be that person.