The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

Suddenly, I remember what happened on this day, and I know how to say goodbye to the Larkins and thank them at once. I’m too excited to sit still on the drive back, though everyone else has long faces, and Maryellen holds my hand as if she can’t bear to let go.

Mr. Larkin says it’s time for me to go home. I give him the address, 3450 Massachusetts Avenue, Northwest. It’s close by, and we pull up to a huge marble building with a sky-high roof. Mr. Larkin says this can’t be right, and Beverly asks if it’s my house. I tell them it’s the Naval Observatory, and I want everyone to come in so I can thank them properly.

Carolyn asks why we’re here, and I explain there’s a total lunar eclipse tonight, on a full moon. Although the moon is below the horizon here in Washington D.C. The Observatory’s planetarium show will let us see it anyway.

Everyone loves the idea. Mr. Larkin jokes that when it comes to me, the sky is the limit. Carolyn asks how I knew about the eclipse, and Maryellen answers for me. I love the night sky the way she loves to sketch, and she’s sure I’ll grow up to be an astronomer.

Inside the planetarium, I get goosebumps at the huge, starry dome. Maryellen pokes me and points to the Big Dipper, remembering the night at her grandparents’ house when we first looked at constellations together. We watch the lunar eclipse in rapt silence, one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.

When the show ends, I duck into the ladies room, change into my ski team uniform, and return Carolyn’s clothes. I tell everyone I can find my way home, then hug Mrs. Larkin, Beverly, Carolyn, and Mr. Larkin and thank them. I hug Maryellen last, and she gives the best goodbye of all: “I’ll think of you every time I look up at the stars.” She makes me promise to think of her, too, and then, even though it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, I walk away.

I click the stopwatch and I’m back on the awards platform. Not one second has passed since I left. I hand the watch back to the judge, say I didn’t cheat, only made a mistake, and explain.

Later, alone with Emma, I say I’m glad the misunderstanding about the race is cleared up. Emma apologizes for doubting me—she should’ve known I’d never cheat. I tell her I may not have cheated, but I’ve been dishonest with myself and with her, since ski team is her passion, not mine. When she asks if I’m quitting, I say I’ll finish the season, but next winter I’ll only ski for fun, no more uniform, team, Coach Stanislav, or races. Emma says she thought I loved skiing fast, flying over moguls and going airborne. I do, just not in races. Competition takes all the fun out of it.

Emma admits she loves to win, so maybe ski team really is her passion. She asks what mine is. The stars, I tell her. Thinking of Maryellen and the planetarium show, I say that next summer I’m going to astronomy camp instead of ski camp, what I really want is to look at the stars. Emma studies me with a smile of surprise, respect, and affection, and asks how I got so sure of myself. I just say a friend helped me.