Prologue

The sky was full of stars. Looking up at them had Owen Shaughnessy feeling peace for the first time in days.

He had snuck out of the house and was currently standing on the small hill in the far corner of the yard, far away from the lights and noise. Part of the reasoning was so he could get a better glimpse of the night sky, but the rest was because he couldn’t bear to be around the crowd of people inside.

Today had been his mother’s funeral.

Even thinking of it made him want to cry again. And now he could do it without an audience.

Taking in the darkened sky, Owen let out a shaky sigh. His heart hurt. Everyone said it was normal, but for once, that didn’t make him feel better.

Owen knew he was different—no one ever called him or referred to him as being normal. He was smarter and far more serious than other kids, and that made him a target for bullies and those who were mean-spirited. His only saving grace was a twin brother who was popular and didn’t mind coming to Owen’s rescue on a daily basis.

Yes, he was fortunate to have Riley, and now with their mother gone, Owen knew he was going to need his brother more than ever. If the steady flow of tears didn’t start to let up, Owen figured he would get picked on at school for being a crybaby on top of everything else.

His three older brothers would look out for him too, but they were in different schools and had their own grief to deal with. Another shuddery sigh came out as he looked up and saw one star shining brighter than the others. Logically, Owen knew it to be Sirius, but his heart tried to tell him it was his mother looking down and smiling at him.

Fresh tears threatened to fall.

This was something they used to do together—stargazing. It had been his mother who bought him his first telescope, and it had been his mother who would sit out here with him on clear nights and let him talk all about the cosmos.

“Tell me what we see tonight,” Lillian Shaughnessy said.

At six years of age, Owen had already begun studying the solar system in earnest, and his mother let him teach her on their nightly explorations. “You see that star over there?” he asked, pointing at the sky.

Beside him, his mother chuckled. “You’ll have to be more specific, Owen. It looks like there are a million stars out tonight.”

It was true—the sky was particularly clear tonight. “The really bright one,” he replied seriously. “If you look to the side of the moon, you can see it.”

“Ah,” she began. “Now I see it. It definitely seems bigger and brighter than the rest of them.”

“It is. I’m going to ask Mrs. Peters if she can find me a book on the stars tomorrow at school.”

Lillian smiled. “I thought you had one of those already.”

He shook his head. “All of my books have been about the planets. I’m going to talk about Jupiter tomorrow for show-and-tell.”

“Tell me something about Jupiter,” she prompted, her tone just as solemn as his. “What are you going to share with the class?”

“You can see four of Jupiter’s moons with a pair of binoculars at night. Also, Jupiter spins fast. It only takes ten hours to go from night to day on Jupiter. And because of that, its middle has been stretched out. So instead of being round like the other planets, it’s short and fat, kind of like when someone spins pizza dough fast to stretch it out. This shape is called an oblate spheroid.”

Lillian looked down at Owen and smiled. “Wow! Very impressive. And I like the way you used the analogy of the pizza dough. Very clever. You gave a good visual to understand.”

He shrugged. “It won’t matter. They’ll still make fun of me for it.”

She frowned. “Why do you say that?”

Another shrug. “They all bring in stuff like frogs or their remote-control cars for show-and-tell. I’m the only one who talks about science.” He paused. “Maybe I should just bring in one of my toys or something.”

“Maybe you can bring in your telescope,” she suggested.

Owen’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’d let me do that?”

Lillian nodded. “Absolutely.”

“But…but what if something happens to it? What if someone touches it or breaks it?”

“Hmm…that is a possibility,” she said thoughtfully. “What if I brought it up to the school and dropped it off right before show-and-tell and then took it home?”

Owen studied her for a moment. “No one else’s mom brings their stuff. I’ll get picked on for that too.”

Lillian crouched down beside him. “Owen Shaughnessy, you listen to me. There is nothing wrong with you. Do you understand me?” Her tone was gentle, but her eyes were a little fierce. “You are an amazing young man with a brilliant mind. I don’t want you living your life in fear of what other people do or think. You can’t control that. You can only be the best person you can be, and if they don’t like it, then that’s their problem.”

“But, Mom—”

“I’ll tell you what,” she quickly interrupted. “I’ll bring your telescope to the office and have them call you to come and pick it up. And when you’re done, you can bring it back to the office and I’ll take it home. How does that sound?”

He nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Mom.”

She smiled. “One day, Owen, you’re going to realize how amazing you are. And people are going to flock to you because of it. You’re going to make a big difference in this world. Believe me.”

Somehow he doubted it, but it was nice of her to say it. Rather than respond, he looked back up at the sky. “Did you know that Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system? Earth could fit inside Jupiter more than a thousand times.”

Without a word, Lillian stood back up and put her arm around him and listened as he told her more about what he had learned about Jupiter.

Who was going to stand out here and listen to him talk about astronomy now? It was something only the two of them did together—it was their special time.

Walking over to the shed, Owen went inside, pulled out his telescope, and set it up. Maybe he’d be able to get a better look at Sirius tonight and convince his heart that it really was just a star he was seeing and not his mother looking down on him.

Although, for the first time in his life, Owen Shaughnessy wanted to prove science wrong. As much as he hated to admit it, he secretly hoped that when he looked through the lens, it wasn’t a binary star system he would see but the smiling, understanding, and loving gaze of his mother.