“Nicole, what do we need to do to make this happen?” Peggy interrupts and Nicole lets out a relieved breath.
She fumbles with her cell phone and says, “Let me call the hospital now and make all of the arrangements.”
“Hospital?” I ask hesitantly.
Nicole responds with sadness in her eyes, “Mr. Armstrong, your son is a very sick little boy.”
Peggy grabs my hand and squeezes tight. I look at her with dread.
“We got this,” she says confidently.
Sam
Past
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 10
“SAMANTHA, ARE YOU READY?” Mom’s voice echoes through the house as I pull together what I need from my desk.
“Coming, Mom!” I call as I run down the stairs.
“Dad’s waiting outside. He’s already loaded the car.” She kisses me on my cheek and we rush out the door together.
He’s outside, closing the back of our SUV. “We’re all set!” he says cheerfully and rushes to get into the driver’s seat. I slide into the back and look over my shoulder.
My science project is perfectly positioned in the back—our universe literally hanging by a thread.
“Dad, do you think we have the planets balanced okay? Jupiter looks like it’s a little droopy,” I say, reaching back trying to touch the Styrofoam planet and position it properly.
“Don’t touch it, Sam. I had to creatively position it so it would fit. We’ll assemble it as soon as we get there,” Dad says confidently.
Now I’m worried. What if all of our hard work gets crushed in the back of our SUV? This is the science fair. THE science fair.
“Dad, why can’t I just—” I stretch as far as I can, but Jupiter is still out of my reach.
“Breathe, Sam. Breathe.” His voice is soothing, and I relax my arm until it drops into my lap.
“It just needs to be perfect, Dad. This is like ninety percent of my grade this marking period.”
“Stop exaggerating. It’s not ninety percent. It’s not even twenty percent of your grade. Your teacher said it was extra credit, and you already have an A so calm down.” He smiles and says, “You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age. In fact, I seem to remember doing something very similar. I was obsessed with math and science and won first place in my science fair that year with a very similar-looking solar system.”
“No pressure or anything, Dad!” First place? Ugh!
We pull up to the school, and I see all of the familiar faces from my science class. Cassie’s here with her grandparents. She didn’t do a project; she’s just here to support me.
“Oooh! Look at the planets.” She stares into the back of our SUV. My mother disappeared as soon as we got here and quickly emerges from the building with a rolling cart.
“It should fit nicely on this,” she exclaims, very proud of herself with the assist.
“That’s perfect, honey,” my dad says, and they smile at each other. I swear, I never see them upset, sad or arguing.
With my help, we slide the solar system onto the cart and carefully roll it into our gymnasium that’s been converted to a science fair.
I look around and don’t see any other solar systems. Phew!
“Let’s get this to your table.” Dad maneuvers through the crowds of people and expertly transfers the solar system onto my table.
I circle the display, making sure every pin is in place, every planet is in proper alignment. After confirming the labels are in the correct places, I take a deep breath. “It looks good, Dad.”
“It sure does. You’ve got yourself a winner here,” he says proudly and pulls me into his chest for one of his famous hugs.
I scan the other displays and try to find my steepest competition. Eddie Boyle is testing his volcano, and it doesn’t seem to be working. Trisha O’Toole has a greenhouse-like contraption with a lopsided tomato plant as its focal point. Piper Greenstein is watering a sunflower, and there may or may not be a bumble bee buzzing over her head. Nice touch, Piper.
There are at least fifteen other students fussing with their displays and worry begins to set in.
“You’ve got this,” my dad whispers in my ear. “Don’t let them see you sweat.”
“I don’t know, Dad. Piper has a live bumble bee.” We both look over toward her table when Mr. Fahey swats at the bee, knocking it to the floor, and then stomps on it.
“Not anymore.” My dad laughs.
“Ew,” I say as Mr. Fahey grinds his foot into the floor even harder. I think it’s officially mushed.
Good, Piper no longer has a chance now that her bee is dead.
“Boys and Girls. Moms and Dads.” Mr. Fahey’s voice is barely audible over the speaker system.
“Thank you for coming today to the Fifth Grade Science Fair. I know the students who chose to participate worked really hard on their projects.” His eyes scan the room and find Cassie. She refused to do a project and didn’t care if she missed out on the opportunity to get a boost in her grade. I know he was disappointed that she decided not to participate.
“For the next sixty minutes, science teachers from other schools in our district and I, will make our way to each display. We will rate it on several factors, including accuracy, size and scale, functionality and overall merit. Good luck to all of you and we’ll announce winners when we’re finished.”
“What does merit mean?” I ask my father.
“It means it has to be good overall. They’ll take it all under consideration and base their judgment on that. Don’t worry, Sam. Your solar system is perfect.”
“You mean our solar system.” I smile and give him a kiss.
The next hour is stressful. I watch the judges move from table to table with scowls on their faces. They don’t seem to like any of the projects, and I’m sure mine will not impress them in the least.
Mr. Fahey leads the group to my table and stops, quietly observing. I see them bending and measuring the distance between planets. They keep referring to the scale that I placed at the corner of my table. One of the other judges takes a plastic ruler from her pocket, and places it over the scale and nods her head. I have no idea what is going on, but they are all mumbling amongst themselves.
“Ms. Weston, can you tell us the size of our solar system?” My chest clenches and I look over at my dad, who just smiles and nods his head.
“Well, I don’t think anyone has been able to come up with an exact size, but many astronomers say if you drove your car from the Sun to Pluto, it would take six thousand years.”
“And our entire solar system?” Mr. Fahey presses.
“That could take a car almost nineteen million years to drive, Mr. Fahey. It’s really, really big.”
I take a deep breath and try to think of other things they could possibly quiz me on.
“This solar system is constructed remarkably, Ms. Weston. Your attention to detail is quite stunning,” one of the judges says with a smile. My dad nudges me and I swat his hand away.
“Thank you.”
The group moves on to Eddie’s table, and he’s practically in tears. His volcano hasn’t worked properly all day, and I suddenly feel sorry for him.
“See?” Dad’s voice booms with pride. “I told you it was going to be a piece of cake!”
“That was wonderful, honey,” my mother says as she kisses me on the cheek. “You make us so very proud.”
“Thanks, Mom and Dad, but I didn’t win yet. They still have to visit a few more tables and who knows what they thought of everyone else. I’m not holding my breath.”
Cassie comes running over. “Did you see Piper’s project? The sunflower is practically dead! I don’t know what she’s trying to prove with hers, but she’s going to lose.” It’s no secret that Cassie doesn’t like Piper, but you have to give the girl credit for trying.