She was beautiful and perfect. Did you hear that, Mr. Editor McJerkyJerk? She’s perfect. She didn’t need you.

Then I thought about Cecilia Payne, PhD.

I stopped pacing and curled my toes in the carpet, trying to hold on to the thoughts swirling around inside. When I thought of Cecilia Payne I couldn’t quite get a clear signal, like my Emotion GPS was telling me to go north and south both at once. I tried to hold still, tried to listen better to the signals, and for the first time, I tried to ask myself a Silent Question I didn’t have words for.

I hadn’t talked to Cecilia Payne in my head ever since the baby had arrived, because I was afraid of what would happen when I did. I was afraid I would be mad at her. I was afraid I would lose a hero. Yes, baby Cecilia was here and recovering and perfect, but was that because Cecilia had helped? Or had she ignored me, too?

But it was time to talk to her again.

Still, trying to figure out the words I wanted to say to her was hard, even by myself in my own room. So I turned the Silent Questions toward her.

After a silent minute, a clear signal finally came through the static. It sounded like Cecilia, but also like Nonny and Mom and even a little bit like Ms. Trepky, all in one.

I knew she could make it, the signal said.

She has the same people helping her as you’ve always had.

She is strong, and when she can’t be strong she has Nonny, and Thomas, and Mom, and Dad.

She will have friends, whether making friends is easy or hard.

She has scientists and angels and scientist angels looking out for her.

She has you.

First Period

The next day it finally felt like I was really back at school.

I had a million pictures of baby Cecilia that I wanted to show Talia. And when I thought of Talia, I remembered I hadn’t ever asked her about how Poetry Out Loud went.

Before the first bell rang I ran to her locker as fast as I could, hoping she would forgive me for being a terrible friend. She was standing at her locker packing up books.

That’s when I saw her face close up. Her eyes and mouth were crumpled like she was going to puke.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she said.

Her face looked a little ashy. She didn’t look fine to me. “You sure? You feeling all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, just my stomach.”

“Maybe you need to go home. Should we talk to the nurse?”

“No, no.” She looked down at her shoes, now looking more embarrassed than sick. She twisted some of her curly, dark hair around her finger. She looked up and down the hall, then leaned in closer. “Actually, it’s … I woke up and … well, I started my first period this morning. That’s what.”