All I saw when we came into this garage
was the telescope.
But now that the moon show is over,
I smell sawdust—
and turn around
to see a workbench
and power tools.
Could they be the other way to solve my problem?
“Does your uncle let you use those tools?” I ask Timothy.
“Yeah, but mostly to fix things.”
“Do you think I could I use them?” I ask,
and tell him about my science project.
He doesn’t say
girls aren’t allowed,
tools are dangerous,
you don’t have any training,
it’s impossible.
What he says is, “I’ll show you how.
But only when he goes out.”
There’s a dark, enormous silence
between us. Finally I ask,
“Why doesn’t your uncle like me? Why doesn’t he
like my family? It’s because
we’re not like him, right?”
Then I wish I hadn’t said that to Timothy,
my only friend besides Stacey,
in case he hadn’t noticed we look different
and now he will see
and change his mind about me.
But I should have known better. I can trust Timothy,
because he shakes his head and says,
“He doesn’t like anybody.
I don’t know why, but
most of all, he doesn’t like
himself.”