Free Chasing the Milky Way by Erin E. Moulton

it into my backpack.
    â€œLet’s do this,” Cam says, pulling two folded notes from his pocket. “From Mrs. Margaret Peevey. All in caps, just like your mama.”
    I take the note and slide it into my pocket. “Izzy?” I spot her snarled hair on the other side of the car. I walk around and see she is writing in the sand with a stick.
    â€œCan you get me a rubber band?” I ask Cam as I take her hair and start maneuvering it into a ragged ponytail. Cam searches the desk and a second later the rubber band wings over my shoulder and hits the tarp.
    â€œReally?” I say, holding the ponytail with one hand and reaching for it with the other.
    â€œFastest way to get it to you, Cap’n,” Cam says.
    I shake the rubber band free of dirt and secure the ponytail the best I can.
    â€œRat’s nest,” I mutter, looking up at Cam.
    â€œIt’ll do,” he says.
    â€œWait,” Izzy says, unzipping her backpack. She pulls her pickle jar crown out of it and puts it on her head so her ponytail is rising up out of the center. Then she zips her backpack up like all is well and heads out of the carport. Cam and I follow. I look back toward the trailer, wondering if maybe I should stay, but I know how this works. Mama’s not going to move for a while. Could be hours. Dr. Vincent will call or come by and it’ll be okay. We’ll be in tip-top shape tonight. And we can leave for BotBlock as planned. Dr. Vincent will fix everything.
    Since we’ve already missed the bus, we walk down to Cherry Lane Elementary first. It starts to sprinkle halfway there, and I look up, wondering why the sky even has to spit on me when things are going so awful.
    We drop Izzy at the door of the elementary school and I watch as she makes her way straight down the hall and into her classroom. The hall monitor looks over at her and frowns. I can see she is looking at Izzy’s hair. And judging it, too. It’s going to be a long day.
    Cam and I go two blocks over, not talking much. I look down at my watch. Eight thirty. I press the mode and it switches to the timer.
    â€œT-minus nine hours until liftoff,” I say as we head into the school. “And forty-eight hours until competition.”
    â€œDon’t despair, yet, Cap’n,” Cam says as we head into the office. A lady cuts in front of us, setting her bag up on the counter.
    â€œHi, I’m Sharon Clementine. I’m here as the sub for”—she looks down at her piece of paper—“uh, Mrs. Shareze?”
    I risk a look at Cam. We lock eyes.
    â€œYes, thanks for coming in on such short notice, Sharon,” Mrs. Ginesh—the secretary—says. “Please sign in. Here’s your visitor’s badge. Head down to room 221. Principal Partridge is down there currently and will give you a quick rundown of what needs to happen today.”
    Mrs. Clementine scribbles on a clipboard and then grabs her bag and heads down the hall. We step up to the counter.
    â€œMy, we’re all running late today, it seems,” Mrs. Ginesh says. You don’t know the half of it, lady, I think, but we hand her the notes Cam made. She glances back and forth. Looks like she might question them, but I guess decides it isn’t worth it. She initials them and hands them back. “Please report to your classroom.”
    â€œThanks, Mrs. G,” Cam says. And we head out the door.
    I wait until we’re out of sight of the main office before I turn to Cam. “Mrs. Shareze’s out.” I think of her cold yesterday. It must’ve gotten worse.
    â€œI can’t believe it,” he says as we pass the overly cheery mural of kids holding hands.
    â€œThis is going to work,” I say. “We just need to find a time to get in when the sub isn’t there.”
    â€œMaybe at the end of the day?” Cam says. “Subs usually leave as fast as possible.”
    It could work. We turn the