The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(88)

*

A living aunt and making the first cut in the astronaut application process … When I went to work the next day, I was still vibrating with joy. Even the linoleum of the IAC seemed brighter.

Before we went down our separate hallways, Nathaniel leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Careful. You’re going to blind someone with that smile.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll go away as soon as I see what your engineers have mucked up this time.”

He laughed and gave my hand a squeeze before sauntering down to his office.

Even from down the hall, the computer department had the hum of morning arrival, the air chirping with bright conversation full of recipe exchanges and compliments on dresses. Once we started working, it became all math and slide rules and the rattle of the Friden calculator. Lately there was the occasional curse as the IBM overheated. Again.

When I rounded the corner into the room, Basira was sitting on our shared desk waving her hands in the air as if she were conducting a symphony. “… chandeliers everywhere. I had no idea. And the singing! Oh, they were wonderful.”

Myrtle shook her head. “Gee. All we did was go bowling. It was our league night.”

“What’s going on?” I set my bag on the desk and began working at the buttons on my coat. As much as I wanted to blurt out that I’d been selected for the first round of testing, Basira had the floor.

“Hank took me over to the Missouri side to see a show last night.” She clapped her hands. “It was to die for. The Midland Theater—it was as if someone said, ‘Could we put more decoration here?’ and then answered ‘yes’ every time. Even the toilets were ornamented.”

I shrugged out of my coat, resolutely not saying that I’d made the first cut. “I can’t think of the last time we went to a show.”

“Well, if you get a chance—” She broke off, looking past me. “Geez, Helen. Are you okay?”

“Just allergies.” Helen waved her hand with a smile, but her eyes were red and swollen. Her shoulders drooped. Her voice had a rough burr.

Oh hell. She hadn’t made the cut.

*

I did not announce at work that I’d made the first cut, but at the 99s? Well … I wouldn’t be able to avoid the topic there. When Sunday rolled around, I went out to the airfield with the letter in my bag. I still wasn’t comfortable around Betty. True, she had reunited me with my aunt, but she’d carried the letter around for months. She could have given it to Helen or Nicole to deliver, so once again, I felt like she was manipulating and using me.

Pearl had brought a pound cake, which was sitting in the middle of the table inside the hangar. Ida and Imogene huddled inside their coats. Nicole had taken off one glove to eat cake. Even with the doors closed, my breath frosted white until I got right next to the table and the tiny space heater under it. My ankles scorched while my fingers froze.

“Ooo! Cake.” Brilliant conversationalist, I know. It was that or talk about how big Pearl was getting. If she wasn’t carrying twins, I’d be stunned.

“I was just in a baking mood, I guess.” She rubbed her stomach with one hand.

Nicole looked at the clock. “Just missing Helen…”

As if that had summoned her, the door to the hangar opened with a bang. Helen stood in the door with a bag over her shoulder. She came in, slamming it behind her. At least she wasn’t sad anymore?

She looked at me, then the rest of the group. “My application was rejected.”

“Mine too.” Ida raised her hand. “Not that it surprises anyone.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m in.”

“Me too.” Nicole set her cake down, brushing the crumbs off her skirt.

Imogene shook her head. “Rejected due to insufficient experience with jet engines.”

“They took me.” Betty shifted to look at Pearl. “What about you?”

“I didn’t apply.” She ran her hand over the arc of her stomach. “We’ll wait until the colony is established and then see.”

The silence in the hangar grew palpable. Outside, the buzz of airplanes said that the world continued on, but in here, something had broken. Even though we were all bunched together around the table, a jagged line ran through our group. Having some in and some not was bad enough, but the racial lines were so clear.

Helen broke the silence and upended her bag on the table. Manuals and textbooks flopped open. I caught one as it slid toward the edge of the table. It was a manual for a T-33. From the pile, Helen pulled out a steno pad. “These are the airfields with jet planes.”

“But the deadline has passed…” Nicole shook her head. “I mean, it’s terrible, but what can you do?”

“I can be ready next time.” Helen glared at her, then turned her attention to Ida and Imogene. The ferocity in her stance reminded me that she was a champion chess player. “You too.”

Leaning forward, Ida picked up a manual and flipped through it. “Sounds like we’ve got some flying to do.”

“And some letters to write.” Imogene turned to Betty. “You gonna publicize this as well?”

“I don’t know…”

Imogene had perfected the art of the raised eyebrow. She added in a pursed lip, and the disappointment cracked off of her like a whip.