The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

Once the kids finish washing the sand off their feet, I hold Maryellen back so we’re alone and tell her I’m going home now. She says lightly she’ll see me tomorrow, but I don’t think so. My family’s heading to Cedar Top for Thanksgiving, and if we don’t move here, I won’t see her again.

Maryellen gasps, frowning as if she can’t understand. It’s terrible, she sputters, we’ve had so much fun, we’re such good friends. I tell her we’ll always be good friends, remembering each other, but I have to say goodbye now.

Maryellen doesn’t answer, just hugs me, says goodbye, hugs me again, and scurries inside, afraid she’ll cry if she stays. I take a shaky breath, go into the trailer, change into my ski uniform, and click the stopwatch.

In a moment, I’m back on the ski race awards platform, unchanged on the outside, but on the inside I’m different. My time with Maryellen taught me I can face what scares me. Still afraid of the judge and Coach Stanislav, I remember walking into the ocean scared and not letting it stop me. I tell my family, the coach, and the judge to listen: I’m going to explain what happened.

Only my parents and Gran seem to be listening, and disappointment chills me. But thinking of how Maryellen overcame her fear of public speaking gives me courage. Louder, I say Emma is right. I didn’t win the race.

Emma starts to speak, but I hold up a hand and tell her I can speak for myself. I didn’t win, I say, but I didn’t cheat either. I made a mistake, and I ask everyone to come back up the mountain so I can show them where and why. After a pause, the judge agrees.

Once everyone sees the flag buried in the snow and the ski tracks proving someone stood right where I said, pointing the wrong way by mistake, the judge apologizes. I was telling the truth. I’m disqualified, but my name is cleared.

Later at home, I lie on my bed looking at the stars I put on the ceiling, wondering how to make peace with Emma, when she pokes her head in and corrects herself. It’s our room, and she’s sorry she hasn’t made me feel welcome. She admits she was mad about sharing and took it out on me, though it wasn’t my fault I’d had to give up my room. I think of Maryellen’s room with three girls and the old dog in it, sharing is tricky.

Emma also apologizes for accusing me of cheating, thinking I’d taken the shortcut on purpose to beat her out of anger about the room. I admit I haven’t been great about sharing either, crowding her with my stuff and putting stars on the ceiling without asking. She doesn’t really know what’s so cool about them.

I think of how everybody in Maryellen’s class loved the star show, and realize I’ve never told Emma why I love the night sky. Maybe if I show her, she’ll understand why I want a telescope and astronomy camp instead of ski training camp next summer.

I tell Emma to hit the lights, and as she flips the switch, the ceiling turns into a starry sky. I point out the Little Dipper above her and the Big Dipper by the door. Emma says it’s kind of fun, like cups with handles, and I mention someone else who might think so, too: Daria. Emma groans, but maybe it’s time to forgive her for destroying the laptop.

Emma stands behind me as I knock on Gran’s door. Gran and Daria’s mother look up from their work. Daria looks up from a picture book. I ask if she wants to see our star show. Gran looks surprised, Daria leaps up, and once her mom agrees, I take her hand and we walk down the hall.

When Daria sees the ceiling of stars, she oohs and aahs, sitting with us while Emma and I tell the stories behind the constellations, then make up our own, which Emma turns out to be great at. We’re having so much fun that we’re surprised when Gran and Daria’s mother come to say it’s time for her to go home.

After Daria and her mom leave, Gran thanks us for including her. Emma credits it all to me, so I bring up my other idea, earning money for a telescope by babysitting Daria. Gran says it’s worth a shot if her mother agrees, and if it goes well, we can make it regular, paying three dollars an hour. Does that sound fair?

I smile and say that sounds great. My heart lifts. Gran looks proud, calling me enterprising, sure to get the telescope I want. She’s right, and whenever I look through it, I’ll think of Maryellen, far away in time and space, but never far from my mind and heart.