The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

That night, snuggled in our sleeping bags in the trailer, I tell Maryellen I’ve been thinking about Gran. I haven’t been fair to her, and it’s time to go home and make things right. Maryellen asks when. I say tomorrow. She admits she was afraid of that, but understands.

The next morning I put my ski team uniform back on and slide the penny into my pocket, wondering if it’ll travel back with me. Maryellen and I explain to Mr. and Mrs. Larkin, who are sorry but agree I should go. Mr. Larkin detaches the Airstream while I say goodbye to Mrs. Larkin, Beverly, and Carolyn. Then we climb in and wave as we drive off toward the airport.

There, I thank Mr. Larkin for teaching me how good it feels to be welcomed and included, and tell him I’d rather say goodbye outside and handle my own ticket. He shakes my hand, telling me to never forget I’m an honorary Larkin.

Maryellen hugs me and whispers to remember the arrowhead promise. I tell her she should, too. I watch the car pull away, and once I can’t see her anymore, I press the button on the watch.

Before I know it, I’m back on the ski race awards platform, the judge and Coach Stanislav staring at me. Gran stands beside my parents. I take off the watch and tell the judge I don’t deserve it since I didn’t win, but I don’t deserve to be called a cheater either.

I step off the platform and ask Gran to help me stand up for myself, the way she once had to when she became an archaeologist. She agrees, and we walk back to the platform together.

Gran puts her scientific mind to work: we need evidence I didn’t cheat. She, the coach, the judge, and I go to where the trail splits. She points out the fallen flag marking the correct branch, buried in the snow, and ski marks showing someone stood there recently, probably whoever misdirected me. Glare off the snow, she notes, would’ve hidden the flag without tinted goggles. Brisk and decisive, she leaves no room for argument, and my name is cleared. I’ve never felt so relieved.

At home, I thank Gran and hand her the 1955 penny, thinking she’d be interested. She takes it and reaches for her magnifying glass. While she inspects it, I notice an arrowhead on her desk.

I ask Gran where she got it, and she says she found it in the woods near her house as a girl. It’s special to her. She nearly lost it the day she found it, but a friend named Sophie rescued it for her, which is why she suggested my parents name me Sophie. She’s kept it close ever since, finding it came with a promise to become an archaeologist, one that changed her life.

I’m dumbfounded. Could Gran be Nancy? Am I the Sophie who found her arrowhead? Before I can sputter out a question, Gran hands the penny back and says it’s going to change my life, too. It’s a 1955 double-die wheat penny, rare and valuable because the mint accidentally double-printed the date. She asks if there’s anything I have my heart set on.

A telescope, I tell Gran immediately. Gran smiles. The penny is worth nearly $2,000, enough for a fine telescope with money left for college. I look at the penny in my palm and ask Gran to help me sell it and pick a telescope. She’d love nothing more, she says, turning on her laptop and pulling me close. It’s time to begin.