He took my letters.

“Yeah, okay,” he said.

And he pushed through the glass door, stepping long and fast.

I watched him carry his briefcase and my letters into the front lobby.

And through the glass door, I watched him hurry to the lobby trash bin and throw my letters away.

The Night

I would write more letters.

I would call and call and call again until the high-pitched lady at the front desk knew my name just by the sound of my voice.

I would look up plane tickets to New York.

There had to be a way I could fly to New York.

Maybe there were other editors on the textbook.

Maybe they would listen.

I still had a bit of time.

More than two weeks until the contest deadline.

A few weeks until Nonny’s due date and the arrival of baby Cecilia.

Listen to me, Cecilia Payne. She’s coming. You’ve seen how hard I’ve tried. And I’ll keep trying. I won’t give up. But please, Cecilia, you can’t give up on me, either.

Please.

I think Mom talked to me on the walk back to the car, but I barely noticed where I was stepping.

I kept telling myself to Just think, and I said those words to myself so much I couldn’t think. I needed someone to tell me what to do. Someone to tell me how to fix this. I needed that hand that reaches down when the main character in the movie is about to fall off the cliff.

I’m falling off a cliff, I thought.

And then that got stuck in my head.

Falling falling falling.

When we walked in the door Nonny probably asked me what happened, but I didn’t really hear her and I went to my room and booted up my computer.

I sat staring at my computer for a long time.

That’s when something else happened that severed the day in two. Shattered it. If time was like putty before, this was when it broke in half, like that whole first part of the day fell into a river and floated downstream.

Because all of that was Before.

Because then things became After.

Because when the sun was setting, I heard something crash.

Because when I heard the crash, I ran out into the kitchen. And there was Nonny, broken pieces of a mug between her feet.

And water.

Water sopping her pants and puddling on the floor. Something smelled sticky sweet.

She was staring at the water, and then she looked at me, like a first grader about to fall off the highest curve on the playground swings.

Scared Me knew that expression very, very well.

I screamed for Mom.

For the second time that day we loaded into the car.

This time Nonny was with us. And Dad.

This time everybody knew where we were going.

Hospital

Nonny called Thomas on the way to the hospital. He said he would be on the very next flight no matter what. She kept having to stop talking and clench her fist. She looked frightened and in pain.