Page 46 of Atmosphere

Joan’s eyes followed the blaze up into the air. She could no longer hear the flight controller or the countdown. All she could hear was the burning of that fire as it rose higher into the sky, the shuttle getting smaller with every passing moment.

At one hundred and thirty-two seconds after launch, the two rocket boosters fell away. Joan took a breath. By now theColumbiahad likely reached over seventeen thousand miles an hour. Soon it would hit main engine cutoff. The external tank would fall away, too. As Joan waited for that moment, she realized she was still holding on to Vanessa.

She took her hand away.

“Sorry,” she said. “Got a little more scared there than I anticipated.”

Vanessa nodded and said nothing. Joan could not bring herself to look at her. Instead, she looked up again at the sky. She could barely see the shuttle anymore. Success was a white dot getting smaller and smaller.

They’d done it. They’d launched up into orbit.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

She felt so silly.

Joan was coming home witha bag of groceries—almost entirely cereals for Frances to try that weekend—when she saw Vanessa and Griff talking in the parking lot.

Vanessa was laughing at a joke Griff must have made. Joan was starting to wonder if Vanessa laughed that way with everyone.

“Hi,” she said.

They both turned and looked at her. “Hey,” Vanessa said. “I came by looking for you.”

Griff headed toward his car but pointed at Joan. “Are we still headed to Frenchie’s for dinner later?”

“Yeah, I’ll find you,” Joan said.

And then he was gone.

“You’re going to dinner together?” Vanessa asked.

Joan started walking toward the building, and Vanessa followed her.

“Yeah, why don’t you come?” Joan said.

Vanessa held the building door open for her. “No, thanks.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that mean?” Vanessa had a smile on her face that Joan didn’t care for.“Uh-huh.”

“It means I knew you wouldn’t come,” Joan said, walking into her apartment. “But you really should. We’d have fun.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt yourdate,” Vanessa said, following her in.

“You know it’s not a date,” Joan said. “And you know calling it a date will get me nervous that he thinks it’s a date. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Are we fighting right now? Are you mad at me?” Vanessa asked, as if it thrilled her.

“Of course not.” Joan started putting the cereal boxes—all bright and covered in cartoon characters—into the cupboard. Vanessa reached into the bag and loaded the milk and fruit into the refrigerator. Joan watched as she paused to look at the sketch of Frances hanging on the refrigerator door. Vanessa took the magnet off it and held it for a moment.

“Is this Frances?”

Joan nodded.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She really is.”

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