Chapter One

Driving past the 4 & 20 bakery gives me a mixture of feelings. I haven't worked out how all this is going to be once we aren’t friends anymore. Where will I get my Fat Friday desserts? What about my midday sweet tooth craving? How in the world am I going to handle having his daughter in my class next year? That thought is especially unnerving, so I push it away and pull into the school parking lot, ready to begin my day. Anything to keep from thinking about Michael.

When I arrive to the chaos of morning drop-off, Mrs. Vickerson is flagging me down from the sidewalk. What could she possibly want at five to eight in the morning? I think, taking my time getting out of the car; not just to tick her off, but because I have an enormous amount of supplies for the astronomy costumes we’re making this afternoon. Who ever invented glow-in-the-dark puffy paint is my hero.

“Ms. Rodriguez, I need to speak with you in my office, now,” she says, dramatically marching away, leaving me to struggle with my five bags and roll of butcher paper.

“Morning, Mary,” I say, panting as I walk into the office. “Can I leave these art supplies here for a minute?”

“Let’s just have Ryan take it to your room,” she replies sweetly.

“That would be fantastic. Thank you,” I say, bracing myself as I step into the Viper’s lair.

Her office isn’t the kind of place you would expect to find in an elementary school. It’s austere, white, chrome, and unfriendly; it probably gives the kids nightmares. This woman should have been a warden in a jail, for all her warmth and friendliness. Even her single attempt at creating some fun is a colorless mural of cookie cutter children playing hopscotch. It looks like she picked it up at Principals Emporium.

“Shut the door and have a seat,” she says.

What could I possibly have done in the last twenty-four hours? I think, wracking my brain for some egregious mistake.

“Ms. Rodriguez, it has come to my attention that during this astronomy ordeal you have taken complete control of the project. You have planned all the lessons, written the scripts for the showcase and even taken to rehearsing both classes for the presentation.”

“Yes, that’s true I have, but I can explain.”

“That is not necessary. I wanted to congratulate you on taking a leadership role in our school. It is something I feel has been lacking during your time with us. I was hoping you’d blossom into a leader,” she says, smiling her creepy, snakelike smile.

I am dumbfounded.

“I was quite worried with Mrs. Clarke's crisis, but you stepped right up. Good job,” she says, standing. “I’m quite looking forward to the presentation Friday… it should be quite innovative.”

I stand, unable to process what I’ve just heard. “Uh, thank you, Mrs. Vickerson. It’s always a pleasure to have one’s work appreciated.” I back out of the office as she closes the door.

What just happened? I pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. Mary smiles at me as I leave. Weird, this is extremely weird. If Louise Karol starts being friendly to me I’ll know it’s entrapment of some sort.

Every inch of floor space in the classroom is covered with drying black T-shirts dotted with puffy paint stars in the shape of a constellation. I’m the shooting star, or many shooting stars, as it were, because I have a crown of silvery stars, complete with star streamers and a black T-shirt with one huge star across the front.

Our practice is turning into a nightmare. No one has any idea where they’re supposed to be standing during dress rehearsal, which of course is my fault, because I planned this whole mess, and Mrs. Clarke is still in her own world, lounging on the bleachers.

By the time the lunch bell rings I’m about ready to pull my hair out. Half the kids scamper out, and I don’t care. My class remains, little angels that they are, waiting to be dismissed. I release them with a wave of my hand, and plop down in a heap on the floor.

“This is going to be a disaster,” I sob, burying my face in my hands. Mrs. Clarke chuckles as she walks out of the auditorium, leaving me to ponder my imminent failure.

Get a hold of yourself Poppy. Maybe Mrs. Clarke is stepping back because she wants me to fail, but I’m not going to. I can do this.

Studying the scripts and blocking, I’m trying to figure out a way to simplify the entire presentation so they’ll remember it effortlessly. I glance around the auditorium, imagining all the seats filled and my students milling around, directionless. What matters is that the audience learns something about the planets and stars.

That’s it! I’ll have them walk in the circle orbiting the North Star and then have them step out when it’s their turn to present.

“Take that, Clarke!” I shout triumphantly, forgetting the auditorium doors are open. “Ignore that, kids,” I say to the few students gathered at the open door, watching me go insane.

Sandwich in hand, I peek into Mrs. Clarke’s room on my way back to my class.

“Mrs. Clarke, I just need your students for maybe another half an hour this afternoon. I can pick them up from the playground after lunch and send the back to the room when we’re done.”

“Sure, whatever you need. I have so much grading to do. Mind if I don’t join you?”

“Nope, not a problem,” I say, smiling wickedly. If you only knew my brilliant plan.

Friday morning is a buzz of activity. The students can’t seem to settle down, especially since they saw the men bringing the equipment for the Portable Planetarium into the gym.

“Poppy, this looks amazing,” Cindy says, catching up with me. “My kids are going to flip. What’s the schedule?”

“Double check with Mary. We’ll do our presentation three times, once for the little kids before lunch, once for the big kids after lunch and once for the parents tonight. Then, one by one, each class will get a chance, throughout the day, to visit the planetarium. I’m unclear about the order,” I reply, beaming. This is going to be a great day. I am so proud of myself.

I’m too excited during lunch to sit around my classroom, so I visit the planetarium. The unglamorous, gun-metal gray tent is taking up most of the gym floor. Basically, it’s a tent with a projector, so whatever you want to project, you can.

“This is awesome,” I say to the man in charge, stepping out of the tent.

“Thanks. It’s a great visual learning tool for the kids.”

“They’re going to love it.”

“Do you know when we’re starting?” he asks.

“You’ll be getting the kindergartners any second now, and then the upper grades will follow. Mrs. Clarke's and my class will be last, since we’re giving presentations most of the day. I’ll see you later,” I say, ducking out as the kindergartners arrive.

“Today’s the planetarium thing. I hope you didn’t forget or think you were uninvited,” I say leaving Michael a voice message. “Call me if you get this in the next ten minutes. If not, I guess I’ll just see you later.”

I’m relieved to see Michael and Skylar walk into the auditorium with the second grade class. He waves at me. Skylar presses close against his leg, shyly peeking out to get a look at the students passing by.

“Out-of-this-world job, guys,” I say, gathering the two classes. “Let’s make one line and go outside so we can get ready for the next class.” I watch them go, then motion Michael to me. He reaches out to give me a hug, but I step back, unable to betray my composed exterior at work, especially in front of Skylar.

“Love your outfit,” Michael says grinning.

“Thank you. Can you guess what I am?” I ask, twirling.

“A shooting star,” Skylar answers.

“Great guess,” I say. “Have you been studying the stars too?”

“Yes, my daddy’s been teaching me,” she responds, smiling up at him adoringly.

Once the classes are seated, I lead Michael and Skylar to Mrs. Sullivan’s class.

“Mrs. Sullivan, this is the girl I was telling you about, Skylar Borchard. She’ll be coming here next year. I wanted to let her sit with some students her own age for the assembly.”

“Of course. Hello, Skylar, come with me. Why don’t you sit here with Brooklyn and Lucy?” Mrs. Sullivan says, returning to her seat at the end of the row. “That’s all it takes,” she says, looking at the girls jabbering excitedly.

“Thank you. We’d like this transition to be as easy as possible for her, since she’s been home schooled her whole life,” Michael says.

“Think nothing of it. I understand,” she says, settling back in her seat.

I pull Michael away to the side of the auditorium, to stand with me. He discreetly holds my hand in the darkness.

“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away,” the two classes sing, entering the darkened auditorium, their shirts glowing dimly. I am so nervous I consider leaving the auditorium to do some breathing exercises, but as the third student rotates forward without a mistake I exhale.

The kids do, if possible, an even better job than before. It turns out the visual effect of the classes rotating in a circle creates such a stunning visual, I’m actually happy Mrs. Clarke didn’t help and I had my mini-meltdown.

“Awesome job, guys. Give yourselves a big round of applause. You rocked it!” I say, as we wait outside the gym for our planetarium presentation. “Skylar, sweetie, why don’t you sit with my class? Cynthia, this is Skylar — I want you two to stick together.”

We shuffle inside. The kids take their seats on the gym floor in front of the tent, while we sit on the benches directly behind them.

“Who is that woman?” Michael asks, pointing to Mrs. Clarke.

“That’s the other fourth grade teacher,” I reply. “Why?”

“What’s her deal? She has the most disgusted look on her face,” Michael says.

“She’s been totally hands-off during this whole project. I think she was expecting me to fall flat on my face, and since I haven’t, she’s a little upset.”

“She’s a trip,” he says, softly.

“Totally.”

“Hello, Ms. Rodriguez’ and Mrs. Clarke’s classes. Welcome to the Portable Planetarium. I’m Professor Bob. Because you all did a super job introducing all your fellow school mates to the Milky Way, and since you know so much more than they do, we are going to have a special session just for you.”

“Wow,” Dylan shouts out, turning around to look at me.

“Totally cool, huh? Turn around now, and remember, no talking,” I remind him, gently.

After a few more minutes of introduction and making sure the students are cool with being in a dark tent for some thirty minutes, we walk in single file: Mrs. Clarke first, Skylar with Cynthia, Michael and I following behind. Just as I’m about to duck into the tent, Michael grabs my arm and pulls me aside.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I need to see you later. There’s a parent show tonight, right?”

I nod, ducking into the tent, Michael at my heels.

“I’ll be there,” he whispers, following me into the darkness.

Professor Bob has left a dim light emanating from the projector so we can all get situated and minimize the number of fingers stepped on. Once we’re all seated, he changes the disk, plunging us in darkness for a moment. Then beautiful projections of the constellations are overhead, shimmering and twinkling as if we were drifting out in space.

Maybe it’s because of the darkness, maybe it’s because after tonight we’ve vowed to not see each other any more, but it feels like we’re the only people alive, floating through space. I lose my sense of place and lean back against Michael’s chest, resting my head along the curve of his neck. He puts his hands over mine and we drift away together through the universe.

Professor Bob takes us through our own night sky, just like the one my students saw during their star journaling, then to the night skies over The North Pole, Moscow and Sydney. By the time we’re ducking out of the dome, I hear quite a few comments about wanting to be an astronomer.

Michael collects Skylar, who thanks me for today and gives me a big hug.

“I’ll be here tonight… look for me after,” he says, turning away. I watch them, until they're hidden by the buildings.

I need to get back to my class, I think, and run across the playground. The kids are waiting patiently outside the classroom, chatting nonstop about the presentation.

They all gasp when they see the room, decorated like the solar system, with the kidney-shaped table groaning under the weight of a dozen delectable pastries, cakes, and cookies. A few of my room moms set up while we were at our presentation.

“Congratulations on an awesome job, guys. Wait,” I say, “take your seats. I will not have a stampede up here. The table with the most points will come up to get goodies first. Saturn table, you’re up.”

We enjoy the goodies for the last thirty minutes of school. They’ve worked so hard, they deserve a special treat.

“Great job today. I know your parents are going to love it. Go home, eat some dinner, and I’ll see you back here at seven o’clock.” The kids, hyped up on sugar, scamper outside like a heard of stampeding wildebeests.

“This room is a complete disaster,” Mrs. Klein, Sophia’s mom, says. “Do you need help cleaning up?”

“I can handle it. Thanks,” I say, cramming plates into the industrial-sized trash basin I dragged in from the lunch area.

Chapter Twenty-two