Planet Earth Is Blue

by Nicole Panteleakos

  “Four…three…two…”

  “Let’s take a moment,” said the stranger.

  “One…”

  “A moment for what?” asked Mama.

  “Lift-off,” Bridget whispered.

  Nova felt her body become weightless as they entered a field of zero gravity. She was glad they had their space helmets to protect them, since there was no air in space. She was not scared, not anymore, because Bridget knew how to fly the spacecraft, and they were heading to the moon.

  “We are leaving earth behind, Nova…,” said Bridget in a hushed voice. She lit a flashlight and propped it up behind her globe. “Look! There it is, a blue-and-green ball in the distance! You can open your eyes now. Isn’t it far out?”

  Nova looked. The earth was lit up from behind. Nova grinned. It must be far out, since they had traveled such a long way. They had gone this far before, but never farther. Never all the way to the moon.

  Nova kissed NASA Bear’s soft plastic helmet.

  From behind her back, Bridget produced a large white balloon. She blew it up, so big it was almost the same size as the globe, tied it off, and placed it in front of Nova.

  “Moon!” Nova said, pointing. Bridget beamed.

  “That’s right, moon!” Bridget picked up her walkie-talkie and held it to her lips. “Ground Control, space shuttle NovaBridge here! We are now safely soaring above the earth at approximately three hundred fifty miles beyond sea level, traveling at a speed of twenty thousand miles per hour. Next stop, the moon. Over.”

  “Please!” pleaded the distant voice of their mother, somewhere back on Earth. “Please don’t take my girls!”

  “Moon!” Nova hugged NASA Bear.

  “Yes, moon. We made it, Nova,” Bridget whispered. “We’re safe now. We’ve just landed. The next thing you’ll feel is space dust beneath your feet.” Then she sang a line from their favorite song, “Space Oddity” by David Bowie, about an astronaut named Major Tom communicating with Ground Control: “Now it’s time to leave the capsule, if you dare!”

  Nova nodded. She could no longer hear anything happening down on Earth.

  She could not hear the stranger calling their names.

  And she could not feel anything either, not anything except zero gravity and moon rocks.

  She did not feel it when Bridget helped her into her jacket or when Mama kissed her on the forehead.

  She did not feel it when a police officer gently picked her up and carried her to an unfamiliar car.

  And she did not make noise, not even a hum, to drown out the Earth sounds around her.

  She did not make noise when the social worker buckled her into the backseat or when Bridget took her hand and held it tight.

  She did not make noise when they were driven away from Mama.

  She was too far away. On the moon.

  With her big sister.

  Safe.

  * * *

  Alone in the attic Nova was not tired, not at all, not even with her eyes closed, but when she opened them again, light was streaming through the round attic window, the snow had stopped falling, and Francine was calling her from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Are you up there, Nova?”

  “Ah!” called Nova, scrambling to her feet. How long had she been asleep? Did she miss the first day of school?

  She rushed down the stairs to the bedroom, where Francine was waiting.

  “Thank goodness! I panicked when I saw your empty bed. Come on, let’s get you dressed, then we’ll eat breakfast. Billy’s making his special chocolate chip banana pancakes.”

  Nova could already smell bacon, the scent wafting up through the air vent in the floor. Her tummy growled. She pictured Billy at the stove, flipping flapjacks. He liked to cook, especially unhealthy things his wife wouldn’t make for him. He was supposed to be watching his weight, she’d said.

  “But I have a sweet tooth!” he’d said.

  Nova didn’t know whether any of her teeth were sweet too, but she did enjoy the red velvet cupcakes Billy had let her help frost last weekend.

  Francine helped Nova into one of the outfits they’d picked out on Saturday, a pair of blue denim overalls with a pocket in front over a long-sleeved midnight-blue shirt with silver dots that looked like distant stars. Nova let Francine brush her hair, even though she hated to have her hair brushed. Francine plaited it in two thick braids, which she called “just darling.” Nova scowled. She did not want to be darling.

  “Remember, they’ll bring you to the bathroom before lunch and again at the end of the day, but if you have to go when it’s not time, try to get Mrs. Pierce’s attention, okay? I told her you might need help with the overalls. A teacher’s helper will be with you at all times. I packed extra clothes in case you have an accident.”

  Nova’s face reddened. She hadn’t had an accident in school in two whole years and didn’t plan to have one on the first day at Jefferson Middle either.

  “All right, Nova?” asked Francine. She pressed her palm to Nova’s forehead. Nova pulled away.

  “Pancakes are ready!” Billy called up from the kitchen.

  Nova forgot about feeling upset. She hurried down to the kitchen. Joanie was already settled at the table, swirling crispy bacon in Mrs. Butterworth’s. Nova took her usual place at the table, suddenly starving.

  “I’ll tape The Little Prince on the VCR for you,” said Joanie, smiling. “Would you like that? We can watch it when you get home, ’kay?”

  Even though she would like that, Nova did not answer “Kay-kay.” She was too nervous to talk.

  An hour later, Nova found herself drowning in a sea of students. With everyone else around, the halls of Jefferson Middle School didn’t seem so wide and welcoming. Too many competing sounds, too many unfamiliar smells, too many bodies bumping into each other. It was exactly like every other school. She should’ve known it would be. Francine guided her to the special education classroom at the end of the hall, as planned. Covering her ears while she walked, Nova felt like a dog being led to the back room of a pound. She’d seen Lady and the Tramp. She knew how it worked. Bridget had told her. “The pound’s back room is where they go to die.”

  Nova knew the back room was bad because dogs seemed sad to go there, but she wished she could ask, “What happens after they die? Do they come back? Do they get adopted? Why does it make them sad to die in the back room?”

  When they arrived, Mrs. Pierce was seated at her desk, writing on a giant calendar.

  “You must be Nova!” Mrs. Pierce stood to greet them at the door. “Oh, those braids! Francine, she’s just darling!”

  Nova scowled, hands still pressed firmly over her ears. There was that word again. Darling.

  “And who’s this?” Mrs. Pierce poked NASA Bear’s tummy.

  “This is Nova’s astronaut teddy,” said Francine, handing the bear to Nova.

  Nova realized that no one but she and Bridget knew NASA Bear’s name, and without Bridget around, it was possible no one else ever would. The thought made her stomach twist painfully into a pretzel.

  Sometimes I hate you, Nova thought.

  Immediately another feeling took up space in Nova’s gut, forcing out the anger. It made her want to say “I’m sorry” for the second time in two days. She hugged NASA Bear, ignoring the tear that dripped down onto his helmet.

  “You’re interested in space travel, right, Nova?” asked Mrs. Pierce. Nova did not respond, not even with an “Mm.” “We signed you up for astronomy on Wednesdays. We have a volunteer from the high school who’s going to take that class with you.”

  “Wonderful!” exclaimed Francine as she wiped Nova’s cheeks with a tissue from her purse. “How’d you work that out?”

  “Juniors and seniors get extra credit for tutoring middle schoolers during study halls. One girl wants to
pursue a career in special education or astrophysics and happens to love astronomy too. We figured this would be a perfect experience for her, look nice on her college applications…”

  Nova tuned out as the conversation turned dull. She wandered over toward her desk table. A skinny-armed, big-bellied boy with a round face and spiky hair sat cross-legged under it.

  “Hi,” he said. Nova looked behind her. No one was there.

  “I’m talking at you!” The boy giggled. “You silly. Wanna sit in my cave? There’s a bear out there!” He pointed at NASA Bear. “It wants-a eat us!”

  Of all the silly nonsense! thought Nova, quoting Alice in Wonderland. She wanted to tell the boy, “NASA Bear is a professional payload specialist. A professional payload specialist is not an astronaut, but a scientist or educator. He or she is chosen by NASA to be a member of the space crew with a special job, like doing research or being the First Teacher in Space. A professional payload specialist would never try to eat a human, not so long as freeze-dried fruit was readily available.” Bridget had taught her all about professional payload specialists. But since Nova could not tell this to the boy, she set NASA Bear down on the floor and climbed under the table.

  “My name is Alex. What’s your name is?”

  Nova opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “Don’t be scared,” said Alex, smiling. “Is not a real bear, is pretend.”

  “Alex, Nova, come out from under the desk, please!” called Mrs. Pierce. “It’s Morning Circle time.”

  Alex took Nova’s wrist and led her toward the semicircle of chairs facing the bookshelves. She thought about pulling away, but she kind of liked how his fingers felt like ice. She scooped up NASA Bear with her free hand on the way by.

  Six kids were already seated. Three boys, three girls. Behind them sat two adults, one man, one woman. Very even. Nova smiled. She liked even because it meant balanced, symmetrical, the same. Mrs. Pierce sat facing them with her back to the books, beside an easel, with a stack of cardboard cutouts on the floor beside her. Mrs. Pierce was a woman, so that made one more girl than boy, but since NASA Bear was a boy Nova supposed it was okay.

  “Good morning, class!” Mrs. Pierce said.

  “Good morning!” chorused Alex and a few of the other kids. Nova noticed right away that two of them—one boy, one girl—did not say anything. The boy was bouncing in his chair, making clicking noises with his tongue against his teeth. The girl was sitting in a wheelchair with her head lolled to the side. That looked uncomfortable. Nova reached toward the girl to help her but the lady teacher blocked her hand.

  “Class, we have a new student,” said Mrs. Pierce. “This is Nova. Nova, can you wave to the kids?”

  When Nova did not respond, the lady teacher picked up her hand and waggled it. Nova pulled away.

  “Nova is twelve years old and in sixth grade with Mr. O’Reilly. Let’s go around the circle and introduce ourselves to Nova. We will say our names, our ages, and one thing we like to do.” Mrs. Pierce picked up one of the sheets of cardboard and placed it on the easel. On it, each student’s name was listed beside their picture. (Nova’s had only a hand-drawn smiley face, no photograph.) Mrs. Pierce tapped the name at the top. “Alex, can you start?”

  Alex had chosen the seat closest to Mrs. Pierce. He stood up, arms straight down by his sides, like a soldier.

  “My name is Alex. My age is thirteen years. I like basketball.”

  “Great, Alex,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Next?”

  The next two were girls who talked: Mallory, who was twelve and liked horses, and Mary-Beth, who whispered “eleven” but did not say what she liked. Then they reached the boy who was bouncing. The guy teacher called him Buddy, age eleven. When Buddy waved at Nova, he turned his hand the wrong way, so he was really waving at himself, but the guy teacher said “Good job” anyway and handed him a piece of candy. Nova copied him, waving the wrong way, but no one gave her candy.

  Luke and Thomas were next. Both boys, both thirteen. Luke had a wispy mustache forming on his upper lip, while Thomas sounded like he had a stuffy nose. Nova didn’t listen to what they liked because she was too worried about having to remember all these names. Mrs. Pierce. Alex. Mr. O’Reilly. Mallory. Mary-Beth. Luke. Thomas. Guy teacher. Lady teacher. NASA Bear. Nova immediately began assigning them nicknames to help her remember: Bouncing Buddy. Quiet Mary-Beth. Wispy Lip Luke…

  “Last but not least, this is Margot.” Mrs. Pierce patted the knee of the girl in the wheelchair, then tapped her name on the list. “Margot loves music, especially Madonna. Right, Margot?”

  Music Margot didn’t respond. Her head was still sort of slumped over. Again Nova reached out to fix her. Again the lady teacher moved her hand away.

  “Our helper teachers are Mr. Malone and Miss Chambers. You’ll get to know them better this week,” said Mrs. Pierce. Nova scowled. More people with names. More people to know.

  The only person who mattered was Bridget.

  “Bidge,” Nova whispered, surprising herself. She hadn’t tried to say her sister’s name in what felt like forever. She closed her eyes and hugged NASA Bear close. NASA Bear, whose name nobody would ever know.

  “Nova likes astronauts and outer space,” said Mrs. Pierce. “Okay, class! Let’s stand for the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  The rest of the morning went the way school mornings usually did. They stood for the Pledge (Music Margot did not stand), followed by a moment of silence (Bouncing Buddy was not silent), and then Mrs. Pierce read a babyish story (Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak), Alex marked the day on a giant calendar (Monday), Mallory announced the weather (cloudy). Finally everyone went to their desks to work.

  “I’ll be testing you this week.” Mrs. Pierce settled herself beside Nova at the table by the window. “So we can figure out what you know.”

  Nova sighed.

  Another day, another school.

  Another week of testing.

  JAN 20, 1986

  Dear Bridget,

  T-minus eight days until Challenger launch.

  It is recess on my first day at Jefferson Middle School. We finished lunch a few minutes ago.

  I had a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. Francine made it this morning. She put it in a Crayola Carnation Pink plastic lunch box with My Little Pony from TV on the front. I have a new backpack too. It is also pink. Salmon Pink, not Carnation Pink. You know I hate pink, all shades, but I can’t help liking it a little bit now because the backpack is only mine and the lunch box is only mine and I like having things that are only mine, even if they have to be pink.

  Fluff tastes funny. Have you had fluff? It is marshmallows but spread out, like butter, which is confusing for my tongue but mostly okay.

  This afternoon I will go to the regular sixth-grade class with Miss Chambers and Mallory and Mary-Beth. Mallory likes horses and Mary-Beth talks too quiet.

  While we are in social studies, Basketball Alex, Wispy Lip Luke, and Stuffy Nose Thomas go with Mr. Malone to seventh grade.

  Music Margot and Bouncing Buddy stay here with Mrs. Pierce.

  That is what Mrs. Pierce said when we made my picture schedule. Except she does not know the special names I gave them.

  After Morning Circle, this morning was like other new-school mornings. Testing, testing, testing. Boring, boring, boring. I wish I was at Billy and Francine’s house with NASA Bear and my attic window, listening to “Space Oddity,” soaring through the stars instead.

  Mrs. Pierce set out blue plastic shapes and asked me to touch them.

  “Touch triangle. Touch circle.”

  When I did it right, she gave me a cut-up piece of gummy worm like Bouncing Buddy got for waving backward. I have never gotten candy from a teacher for doing a good job before. When I picked the wrong shape she took my hand and placed it on the right shape. It mad
e me mad to get so many wrong but I could not listen to her asking each shape because there was too much going on, same as in kindergarten and first grade and second and third and fourth and fifth and sixth and the half of seventh I already did before I had to go backward. There is too much going on, always. Every school, every grade, every classroom, the same.

  But not the good kind of same.

  Outside there are squirrels even though it is winter.

  Inside other kids are noisy.

  Plus the ceiling lights have a hum.

  And heat rattles through a metal vent.

  And pencils scratch papers, which bothers my ears.

  And my brain keeps going to the moon. I think I’m full of space dust.

  So sometimes when she said “triangle” I thought maybe she wanted “square” because I could not hear “triangle” over all the square sounds around the room.

  Then she did the same thing with colors so I started not listening. I think I touched the plastic colors but I do not know if I was looking because in my mind I was seeing outer space and stars and feeling the moon rocks kicking up beneath my feet. So many moon rocks.

  I started thinking about the day NASA picked the winner of the First Teacher in Space contest.

  July 19, 1985.

  You said announcing the winner on my twelfth birthday was fate. You hoped the launch would be scheduled for the day you turn eighteen, which would also be fate. I did not know what fate meant then and I don’t know what it means now, but since NASA picked January 1986 instead of August 1986 I guess fate is not something they care about.

  Know what I remember best?

  When you held up the newspaper and read “Out of more than eleven thousand teachers, NASA has chosen Christa McAuliffe of New Hampshire…,” then started screaming, the butterflies already in my tummy fluttered all the way up into my chest. I had to cover my mouth because I thought they might escape! All those teachers, more than I can count, maybe more than there are stars in the sky, and NASA picked one from our New Hampshire! I don’t know why I cried. Maybe because of the butterflies, maybe because of the fate, or maybe because your happy-screaming was too loud.