Planet Earth Is Blue

by Nicole Panteleakos

  “It’s not fair, Denise! Why are they even in our class? One’s a spaz”—she glared at Mary-Beth—“one’s a creep”—she shot a look at Mallory—“and the new girl makes weird noises.”

  “Don’t worry, Nova.” Mallory’s voice was so low Nova almost didn’t hear her even though they were standing shoulder to shoulder. “We’ll get them back good.”

  Nova did not understand what that meant.

  “I actually feel bad for the new girl.” Polka Dot Denise was staring sympathetically at Nova. “I mean, it’s not her fault she makes weird noises. She’s probably retarded.”

  Carrot Krystle nodded as she tossed the sopping paper towels in the trash. “Yup. Can’t even talk. Definitely a retard.”

  Nova’s cheeks burned. She wished Bridget was here to say “My sister’s not dumb. She’s a thinker, not a talker.”

  Except Bridget was gone.

  And Nova was “probably retarded.”

  “Soon,” whispered Mallory. “So soon…”

  Nova rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Mallory’s growled words had given her goose bumps.

  Miss Chambers returned. She helped Krystle and Mary-Beth get the last of the gooey egg off the floor.

  “Mallory, how about you put the cookies in the oven?” asked Miss Chambers. Mallory did. “Excellent! Now we wait!”

  Beside them, Carrot Krystle was putting her cookie sheet in the oven she shared with Polka Dot Denise.

  “Miss Chambers, Mary-Beth has to go to the bathroom.” Mallory elbowed Mary-Beth hard in the ribs. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeth,” Mary-Beth agreed. She crossed her legs at the knee.

  “Looks like she’s gotta go bad,” said Mallory. “Better hurry!”

  “Come on.” Miss Chambers took Mary-Beth’s hand. “Girls, do not touch this stove while we’re gone. Very important. Safety first, right?”

  Mallory smiled. “We won’t touch this stove.”

  “Or the oven.”

  Mallory smiled bigger. “Or this oven.”

  As soon as they were out of the room, Mallory whispered in Nova’s ear again.

  “It’s time.”

  Nova screwed up her face, confused. Time for what?

  “You distract them.”

  Nova did not react.

  “That means you do something to make them look at you.”

  Nova did not react.

  “You go stand over there and scream your biggest scream.”

  Nova did not react.

  “Go!” Mallory pushed her toward the center of the room. “Scream. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Nova walked ten steps. She took a big breath. She turned. Mallory nodded.

  Nova screamed.

  Everyone in class stopped what they were doing to look at her. She did not like it, so many people looking. She covered her ears and squinted. She wanted to disappear.

  Behind Carrot Krystle and Polka Dot Denise, Mallory was fiddling with the knob on the oven. She shot Nova a thumbs-up and gestured for her to come back. Nova sprinted back to her station, trying to forget the feeling of all those eyes on her.

  “Keep working, class,” said Not-Strega-Nona pleasantly. “Everything’s fine!”

  “Miss Chambers said not to touch this oven.” Mallory smirked. “She didn’t say anything about that oven.”

  “Ehh?” asked Nova, meaning “Why?” Mallory, somehow, seemed to understand.

  “Those girls are mean. I don’t like them calling Mary-Beth a spaz and I don’t like them calling you a retard. You are my friends, and I don’t let anybody be mean to my friends.”

  “Ah,” said Nova. She liked being called a friend.

  Ten minutes after Mary-Beth and Miss Chambers returned, a timer beeped. Miss Chambers helped Mary-Beth take out the cookies so they could cool. On the other side of the workstation, Carrot Krystle was sniffing the air.

  “Does something smell…funny?” she asked.

  “Pretty funny,” said Mallory in that low voice that gave Nova goose bumps.

  “It smells like…like something’s burning,” said Polka Dot Denise.

  “Oh, no!” Carrot Krystle yanked down hard on the oven door. Black smoke came spiraling out, making her cough. Miss Chambers quickly closed the oven door with the charred cookies still inside and turned the dial to Off.

  “They’re ruined!” screeched Polka Dot Denise. “Krystle, what did you do?”

  “Me? I didn’t do anything!”

  “The oven was on four fifty? You put it on four fifty?”

  “No! You must have touched it when I wasn’t looking!”

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Did not, you liar!”

  “You must have, you…you…you airhead!” Carrot Krystle shoved her friend, hard.

  “Nice one!” Polka Dot Denise pushed back. “Not!”

  “Girls!” Not-Strega-Nona rushed over to break up the scuffle. She opened the oven just long enough to remove the smoldering cookie sheet, which she set on the stove. Several kids pinched their noses. Miss Chambers opened a window.

  “Nasty!” said a tall freckle-faced girl. “Krystle, your cookies reek worse than a tire fire!”

  “It’s not my fault!” shouted Carrot Krystle.

  “Too bad,” said Mallory. “Even us retards know not to turn the oven up so high.”

  “You did this!” Carrot Krystle pointed at them.

  “Don’t be a jerk, Krystle!” said Polka Dot Denise. “They wouldn’t.”

  Mallory picked up a perfect cookie from their tray and took a bite, then put a “shh” finger to her lips and winked at Nova. Nova grinned.

  Just like the Little Prince and the Fox, now Nova and Mallory shared a secret.

  JAN 24, 1986

  Dear Bridget,

  T-minus four days until Challenger launch.

  Today some girls in school called me retarded. You were not there to yell at them. But it’s okay. Mallory burnt their cookies and made them mad. You will like Mallory, I think. She is my friend. My first friend. I know because she told me, “I don’t let anybody be mean to my friends.”

  I think maybe I should feel bad, Bridget, because I know burning their cookies was not nice. But I tried and I tried and I tried and I just don’t feel bad. Does that mean I’m not nice?

  Now I am worried.

  What if Francine finds out? What if Francine wants to give me back because I’m not a nice girl? Francine told Mrs. Pierce I am a very nice girl. I don’t feel like a nice girl. I feel mean. But I also feel happy because those girls were mean first and Mallory got them back good.

  What is the word for when you feel two different feelings at the same time?

  It feels like if one feeling was yellow and the other feeling was red but when you mixed them together instead of making orange they made something they shouldn’t, like pine green. I feel Crayola Pine Green and that doesn’t make sense.

  Then, to make it worse, today on the drive home from school, Francine told me Mrs. Steele is coming this weekend to do her “wellness check.” But you and me both know a “wellness check” is really a deciding visit so Mrs. Steele can see whether we should stay with our foster family or get moved to a new one. I don’t want her to come.

  Even though Francine thinks I cannot read, reads me Dr. Seuss at bedtime, and does not allow raw dough eating, I like her. And even though you say “We should not get attached” because “Foster families are not forever families,” I want to stay.

  She bought me seven pairs of overalls so I can wear overalls every day and she bought me slouch socks and she cut the tags out of the backs of all my shirts, and she asks me about my day and tells me about her day in the car on the way home from school, and she lets me watch TV when she braids my hair
so I forget it hurts to get my hair braided.

  Then I feel bad again because those are all the things you do, Bridget. Except buying overalls. You get me slouch socks and cut my tags out and ask about my day and tell me about your day and let me listen to David Bowie when you braid my hair so I forget it hurts, remember?

  I like Francine and Billy, but I want you to read my bedtime stories.

  And I like Mallory but I want you to share my secrets, like the Fox’s secret.

  I have so many confusing feelings I think they might fill me up like the expanding universe and then explode me out like a supernova. During testing today, I started to worry that you will not find me. But then I told myself, of course you will. You found me before, the last time they sent us to different foster homes, when we were apart for ten whole weeks. You found me then so I know you’ll find me now. If NASA can find the way from the Earth to the moon, you can find your way from wherever you are to wherever I am! I need to stop worrying. I know you do not like for me to worry. I know you keep your promises.

  Francine and Billy are nice, but they’re not forever family. You are my forever family.

  I miss you.

  Love,

  Your Super Nova

  “It’s almost here!” Billy held up the newspaper Saturday morning. There was another article about the upcoming Challenger launch with full-color pictures of the seven space shuttle crew members. “Hey, Nova, I forget…which one’s going to be the First Teacher in Space? This guy with the handsome mustache?” Billy pointed to astronaut and physicist Ronald McNair, who had a mustache like Billy’s and the same shade of brown skin, but unlike Billy, McNair wasn’t bald.

  Nova shook her head and giggled.

  She pointed to Christa McAuliffe, who had Francine’s light peach complexion and small nose, but her face was framed by curly brown hair with bangs, and she did not wear glasses.

  McNair and McAuliffe were wearing Cornflower blue jackets with red-on-white NASA logo patches on the right, standing in front of the American flag.

  The astronaut was holding his helmet while the teacher held a model space shuttle the length of a ruler which looked exactly like the one Bridget had drawn for Nova a million times, colored with Crayolas, when teaching her about space travel, except Bridget always wrote their last name, VEZINA, where it was supposed to say NASA.

  In the pictures, Christa McAuliffe and Ronald McNair were smiling.

  “Of course they’re smiling,” Bridget had said the first time she saw the pictures. “I’d be smiling so hard my cheeks would crack and crumble away!”

  Nova hadn’t thought cracked, crumbling cheeks would be worth smiling over, but she liked the picture anyway.

  After Billy read the article, Nova, flapping cheerfully, started up the stairs. She wanted to watch cable TV. But Francine was rushing down.

  “What’s this?” she asked, holding out Nova’s Letters to Bridget notebook, the one Mrs. Pierce had said was full of scribbles.

  “Mm,” said Nova, meaning “Mine,” reaching for it. Francine didn’t give it up.

  “I found it when I was cleaning your room. It looks like writing. Have you been writing?”

  “Mm,” said Nova, this time meaning “Yes,” reaching for it again.

  “Look, Billy!” Francine opened the spiral-bound notebook and held it out to him. “Some of it is just scribbles, but this looks like me. And this word, this looks like moon. That one’s almost definitely Nova. And here! This could be ton.”

  Ten, Nova wanted to say. That word is not ton; it is ten.

  Only Bridget had ever been able to read Nova’s notebook and even she got it wrong most of the time, though Nova always pretended her sister’s guesses were right by nodding and saying “Mm!” a lot. She reached for it a third time. None of the words were “just scribbles.” All of the words were meant for Bridget’s eyes only.

  “Can you read, Nova?” asked Billy. “Did Mrs. Pierce test her reading?”

  “I don’t know! Her last teacher’s report said she doesn’t even know the alphabet, but Mrs. Pierce is supposed to give me a full report when the testing is over. That’s not for another week at least.”

  Another week of testing? Nova groaned. She wished she could talk so she could ask to be All Done.

  “I have an idea!” exclaimed Francine. “Honey, grab me a Sharpie and construction paper. I need to find the scissors.”

  “Top drawer on the left with the can opener!” Billy hurried out to find the marker and paper.

  Nova sat in the kitchen chair and rocked and hummed. She wanted her notebook back. And she wanted to watch TV. But once Francine had all the materials, she began to write and cut until she had created a long line of letters, the entire alphabet in order. Under it, she created two smaller strips, one with the letters A E I O U and one with D L M R S T.

  “Vowels and some commonly used consonants,” Francine explained to Billy. “My kindergarteners tend to recognize these ones first.”

  Kindergarten babies, thought Nova.

  On the rest of the paper, which Francine cut to the size of index cards, she wrote several short words. Cat. Hat. Dog. Boy. Moon. Me. Nova. Top. Red. No. Yes. Bridget.

  Nova’s heart fluttered at that last one.

  Now Francine was testing Nova, same as Mrs. Pierce.

  “Touch A. Touch E. Touch R. Touch S. Touch L.”

  Nova tried to pay attention and do her best work as Francine added more and more consonants into the mix. She knew her letters when there were only five or ten to choose from, but as usual once she had the whole alphabet she mixed up B and D and P. She remembered O but didn’t remember Q, and if she tried to go too fast, M looked like N and N looked like M, even though she knew M was for Moon and N was for Nova.

  “Let’s try these words next,” said Francine.

  “I’ll get the camcorder!” exclaimed Billy. He left the kitchen and returned a moment later with a huge black video recorder propped up on his shoulder, red light on.

  “Nova, give me CAT.”

  Nova looked carefully at the cards. CAT was easy. CAT began with C. CAT ended with AT. CAT was one of the first words Bridget had taught her to read. She handed Francine CAT.

  “Great job!”

  Nova blinked back tears. This felt just like school, like school testing, but at home, and what good could it do? Nova knew how testing ended.

  Cannot read. Does not speak. Severely mentally retarded.

  And once they determined that, maybe they wouldn’t want her anymore. The last family hadn’t wanted Bridget anymore when she was getting bad grades. Nova would be moved again. She would have to say goodbye to the attic window and raw cookie dough and her first-ever friends from Jefferson Middle School, and Bridget would not know where to find her.

  “Nova, give me HAT.”

  Nova gave her CAT.

  “No, Nova. Give me HAT. Hah-hah-hat.”

  Why is she saying it weird? Not making eye contact, Nova handed over HAT.

  “Nova, give me MOON.”

  Nova couldn’t help smiling. Without having to think twice, she grabbed MOON and placed it in Francine’s outstretched hand. MOON was easy. MOON, she liked. Bridget had taught her MOON when she was five. She used to write it in the notebook while she was in the belly of the sheep, waiting for her sister to get home from school. Over and over. Moon, moon, moon. That was one of the words Nova could almost always read.

  Francine kept rotating through the words, sometimes with the same word requested twice in a row, sometimes not. Sometimes Nova got them right, sometimes not. But more right than not. They went through all of the words except two.

  “Nova, what is your name?” asked Francine. Nova was confused. Francine knew her name. She’d just said her name. Besides, how could Nova answer “What is your name?” When she had t
ried in kindergarten the word got stuck in her throat and all she could say was “Bidge Bidge Bidge,” which got her in big trouble.

  “Give me your name.” Francine gestured toward the cards.

  “Ah!” Nova squeaked, realizing she could answer that question. She picked up the card that said NOVA and handed it to Francine. She tapped her chest. “Mm!” She meant “Me.”

  “Great job, Nova!” cheered Billy, his face half-hidden by the huge video camera.

  “Last one, Nova. Your sister’s name?”

  Nova spotted it in the line; it was the card at the end. She picked it up. She wanted to hand it to Francine…but how could she? Bridget was not for Francine. Bridget was not for anybody except herself and Nova, same as Nova only existed for herself and Bridget. She could not give Bridget to Francine. If she did, Bridget would not be happy.

  Nova could hear her sister’s voice in her head.

  “If it feels like a home now, it’ll just be harder when we have to leave later.”

  Nova never knew when later would be. Maybe soon. Maybe even tomorrow, when Mrs. Steele came to do her wellness check.

  Nova hugged BRIDGET to her chest. The tips of her ears tingled as she began to shake. Not bounce, not flap, but shake. Billy could put down the camcorder. Francine could put away the cards. They could both go away and leave Nova alone. She did not want any more testing. She did not want any more talking. She did not want any more pretend-to-be-forever family.

  Bridget was gone.

  And Nova was shaking.

  She shook her head one-two-three-four times, hit her temple with her palm one-two-three-four times, bit the space between her thumb and forefinger, and rocked and hummed and flapped, but nothing made her feel better.

  She put her forehead on the table and closed her eyes.

  “Nova?” asked Francine softly. Billy patted her shoulder. She ignored them.

  She was All Done.

  JAN 25, 1986

  Dear Bridget,

  T-minus three days until Challenger launch.

  I have been writing to you every single day.

  Have you been writing to me?