The rain teemed down. Still hugging his telescope under one arm, Arno crouched in front of the doghouse door, which wasn’t a door at all. It was a small archway cut into the front of Comet’s house.

Arno peered inside. He couldn’t see a thing. Comet must be huddled at the very back where it was as dark as shadows on Pluto.

“It’s okay, Comet,” Arno called out in a soothing tone.

Comet whimpered.

Another clap of thunder shook the ground.

There was more whimpering from the back of the doghouse. And then Comet howled. It was the most pathetic sound that Arno had ever heard. He couldn’t leave his little dog there. He couldn’t! But Arno was soaked now, and he was starting to shake from the cold night air.

“Come here, Comet,” Arno pleaded through the door. “Let’s go back inside. It’s safer there. And you can sleep in my bed. You can even have the pillow!”

Comet still didn’t budge. Why would he, what with the horror that was going on outside?

Arno thought some more.

“Do you want a cookie?” he coaxed. “Come, Comet, and I’ll give you a nice cookie.”

Nothing.

“Two cookies.”

Nothing.

Then Comet made new sounds, forlorn sounds, as if he was weeping.

Arno gulped. He would have to keep Comet company until the storm was over. But now he was shivering uncontrollably. He had no choice but to climb inside the doghouse where it was drier, where he could scoop up Comet and hold him until he could calm down.

Arno stuck his head through the door. His stomach tightened. What he saw was his worst nightmare.

The inside of the doghouse was an unbearably cramped space and as black as a cave. But it was an unbearably cramped space that smelled of a sopping wet, terrified little dog.

Arno thought back to his conversation with Buddy, the one about how astronauts must finish their missions even when they were afraid.

What were the tricks they used?

Arno could barely think because of the deluge of rain, a white noise that sounded like what he imagined space would sound like if it could be heard. Also, his shivering and the rising panic from the pit of his stomach made him feel as if he might throw up, pass out, or both. He was breathing hard, gulping at the damp, heavy air. He desperately wanted to bolt back inside his house, into his safe, cozy bed.

“Astronauts don’t bolt,” he said out loud. “They stay put and keep working. They remind themselves that the panic will pass.”

Arno glanced around the yard once more, still bucketing with rain. He steadied himself.

“I’m coming in,” he announced to Comet, straining to keep his voice calm.

Arno decided to back in on his hands and knees. Slowly, he inched his way inside — first his bare feet, then his legs, his hips, his back and his chest. It was a tight squeeze when it came to his shoulders, but he pushed on. He ducked his head through the door and pulled in his telescope.

He sat up.

He was inside.

Comet leaped into Arno’s lap. His little body was shaking with terror, but he licked Arno’s cheek all the same.

Focus on things that are not threatening.

“Good dog,” Arno said to Comet as he always did whenever Comet gave him a kiss.

Then Arno heard his own labored breathing.

Breathe slowly and deeply and count between breaths.

Arno forced himself to slow down, to suck in air until his lungs were completely full and then slowly let it out. He repeated this again and again, counting between breaths until he had a nice steady rhythm.

Picture something that makes you happy.

Arno could see a sliver of the backyard from the doghouse door, where the lawn chairs sat under the night sky. He remembered the time with his mom when she discovered Polaris, the North Star, and then bought him his most prized possession.

That thought made him feel warmer.

Tell yourself that the bad thing will not happen.

Arno studied the cramped space surrounding him. He was getting his night vision so he could now make out the walls and the roof that was merely inches above his head. He reached out and touched the sturdy walls. He touched the solid roof. He could feel that nothing was about to collapse.

When Arno came to the end of Buddy’s advice, he went back to the top of the list and repeated his thoughts.

Comet is with me.

Breathe in. One, two, three. Breathe out. One, two, three.

My telescope is out of the rain.

The walls are sturdy. The roof is solid.

How many times he chanted this string of thoughts, he could not say, but when he eventually paused, he noticed that his heart was not pounding as hard.

“It’s okay,” Arno said to Comet on his lap. “I’ve got you.”

And then he repeated his chant. Again. Again. And again.

The rain poured down, drumming off the roof above their heads and forming puddles all around. But inside, Arno and Comet were in good company. When Arno paused from his chanting once more, he could feel that his heart was beating normally, that his breathing was soft and easy, that his mouth was no longer dry.

His panic had slipped away.

After that, Arno just sat, stroking Comet’s head.

Time passed. At some point, Arno heard his name. It was his dad calling from the back door. A flashlight beam was frantically sweeping the yard. Arno popped his head out of the doghouse.

“I’m in here!” he called back.

The rain was slowing down. Arno also noticed that all the lights in the house were on. His dad must have been madly searching for Arno in every room.

Arno’s dad ran across the yard and crouched in front of the doghouse. Water was dripping off his face.

“What are you doing in there?” he asked.

“Rescuing Comet,” Arno said. “He got scared in the storm and wouldn’t come out. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

“See if you can hand him to me,” his dad suggested, holding out his arms.

Arno scooped Comet from his lap and shoved the squirming dog through the archway.

“Come on inside,” his dad said, and he turned back to the house, sheltering Comet against his chest.

Arno grabbed his telescope, crawled out and made a dash for the back door.

Everyone stood dripping in the kitchen.

“I’ll go get us some towels,” his dad said.

He set down Comet, who trotted over to nudge his food dish now that the danger had passed.

Arno gave him a cookie, then a second one like he had promised.

Once they dried off, Arno’s dad offered to make hot chocolate. Comet curled up in his bed in the kitchen, and Arno covered him with his blanket.

“You really gave me a scare,” his dad said, heating the milk. “How did Comet get outside, anyway?”

“I remembered that my telescope was in the backyard when it started to rain. When I went out to get it, Comet made a dash.”

“Does the telescope still work?” his dad asked.

Arno dried it with a tea towel, then peered through the eyepiece out the window at a distant light. He used the dials to focus.

“Yup,” Arno said with relief. He set the telescope in the corner near Comet’s bed. Comet lay there, his eyes shut tight, his chest slowly rising and falling.

“Don’t worry about the weather,” Arno’s dad said. “These dramatic summer storms come in the night but they always pass quickly. You’ll see. You’ll have clear skies for the observatory.”

The observatory! Arno was about to make excuses, but he caught himself.

Didn’t he just work through a panic attack in the doghouse? Didn’t his chanting do the trick? If he could do that once, maybe he could do it again. The fear might always be there, but even so.

He had rescued Comet. Now maybe he could rescue himself.

He would go to the opening. He would brave that mission.

He would become an astronomer.

“It’s going to be great,” Arno said.

And he meant it.

Arno sat at the kitchen table where his dad placed two steaming mugs. Arno wrapped his cold hands around one of them.

“Your mom called this evening after you went to bed,” his dad said. “She said the baby is falling into a nice little routine so she’s coming home Sunday. She said to tell you that she counted all the ways she misses you and it’s more than eighty-eight constellations.”

Arno smiled. “That’s astronomical.” He took a warm sip. Delicious.

“We also talked about inviting the new boy’s family for dinner,” his dad continued. “Buddy’s family, too. For a barbecue.”

Robert and Buddy over for hot dogs. It wasn’t the worst idea.

“Time for bed,” his dad announced when they finished their hot chocolate.

It had stopped raining. Only the gutters dripped.

They headed upstairs, turning the lights off as they went. When they got to Arno’s room, his dad spotted Arno’s clay solar system still drying on his desk. He went over to admire the planets, surprised by how small Pluto was compared to the rest of them.

“Fun fact. Of all the mass in the solar system that is not our sun, more than half is in Jupiter,” Arno said, holding up that giant planet as proof.

“Wait now,” Arno’s dad said. “There are only eight planets here. Where’s Saturn?”

Arno knew precisely where Saturn was. His stomach immediately did its fluttering thing, but that only reminded Arno he could use the practice.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

And his dad watched curiously as Arno knelt to peer under his bed.