What Stars Are Made Of: List 2

Everything was converging, and Cecilia was in the middle of it.

Here’s what I’m asking for, Cecilia Payne, I thought.
No complications.
No defects.
No missing chromosomes. No extra chromosomes. No syndromes.

Dad showed us around the halls, giving us a tour of his students’ artwork like he was a curator at a museum.

After the show we went out for our traditional ice cream excursion.

People like Dustin Pierce don’t ignore new students. I’ve heard him and his cronies come up with nicknames starting with almost every letter of the alphabet. They work harder on those mean nicknames than on homework, it seems. They ignore me, usually.

Want to know how weird and neat it is when the doctor takes a mole off? They did a tiny shot on my chin to make it numb, then he took a sharp scalpel and scraped it right off.

And the more I thought about it, the more the swirling in my brain turned into the beginning of an idea. It was a big idea. An idea like one of our Hard Reading Words: audacious: a willingness to take surprisingly bold risks.

I have the same doctors other people do, like a pediatrician and a dentist.

I have a doctor for my heart, called a cardiologist.

Nonny’s face made me think of one of our Hard Reading Words—radiant: glowing or emanating light.

I did my best not to fidget and rush too much. Even still, my mom said, “What’s with you today, girly, you got ants in your pants?”

“How’s it going?” I asked her.
She groaned. “I hate sonnets,” she said.
Talia had signed up for the Creative Writing elective. She told me she was really excited about it at first, but that they were just doing boring stuff like essays and descriptive paragraphs. And sonnets.

I’d keep the Universe Deal to myself, but now Talia knew why I wanted that money, and I had no idea if she’d think I was being naive or dumb or silly.

A star didn’t stop burning just because some space debris got in its way.

“First,” she said, “I wanted to tell you that you did a fantastic job. Your enthusiasm is infectious and makes reading about Cecilia a joy. Your explanations are clear and your descriptions evocative.”

On the way back to my room, a cup of grapes in one hand, I stopped in front of Nonny’s room. She was talking to someone.
“...isn’t under your jurisdiction, though. You shouldn’t have to cover for people so much.”

I found Mom in the kitchen kneading dough with a Grand Canyon furrow between her brows, barely even noticing what her hands were doing. The dough looked pulverized. It looked like I felt.

I found Mom in the kitchen kneading dough with a Grand Canyon furrow between her brows, barely even noticing what her hands were doing. The dough looked pulverized. It looked like I felt.

Ms. Trepky wrote the words Civil Disobedience on the whiteboard and we talked about following the leaders of our world, and thinking for ourselves, and the times those two things overlap, and the times they don’t.

“It’s hard to say why certain people gain renown and others do not. Perhaps another way to think about it is this: If we had a textbook with everyone of importance, we would need a textbook with everyone.”

"...Think of Martin Luther King’s friends and parents and family who helped him. He was a Martin Luther King junior, after all, with a father who bequeathed him his own name. We would likely not even have him in our textbook if it wasn’t for them.”

I spent about ten minutes scrolling through his Twitter page. He tweeted about submissions, about his cat, and there were also a remarkable number of quotes from some writer called Ayn Rand. At first I felt excited scrolling through his tweets, like looking down the key of a treasure map. Then after more about cats and more about Ayn Rand, I started losing momentum.

I spent about ten minutes scrolling through his Twitter page. He tweeted about submissions, about his cat, and there were also a remarkable number of quotes from some writer called Ayn Rand. At first I felt excited scrolling through his tweets, like looking down the key of a treasure map. Then after more about cats and more about Ayn Rand, I started losing momentum.

We took a few more steps, both quiet and thoughtful. Then she glanced at me and gave me that mischievous beach bum smile. “That gives us about two months,” she said, “to formulate a plan.”

Here’s what she makes:
1. Pecan for Dad. Sturdy, filling, and a bit nutty.
2. Very berry for herself. Sweet, lively, and with plenty of cream on top.
3. A light, delicate, smooth, and perfect lemon meringue for Nonny.
4. All-American apple pie for Thomas. (She made it even though Thomas wasn’t there. We sent a Marco Polo of all of us taking a bite.)
5. And a time-honored, sweet-but-savory, faithful pumpkin pie for me.