The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(90)



I wanted to help Ida, and Imogene, and Helen, and whoever else had been knocked out of the running, but Parker hated me. I had to be on the list against his wishes, and going to his office would be the least inconspicuous thing I could do.

That left the tests … I’d be able to find out who was there at the tests.

*

On Monday, May 13, 1957, at 9 a.m., I showed up at the testing facility, which was not on the IAC campus but at a military testing facility at Fort Leavenworth. It was a pre-Meteor building with huge windows set in redbrick walls. At the front desk, they checked me in and then gave me a medical bracelet with the number 378 written on it.

“That’s a lot of women,” I joked, trying to get an opening to look at the list. “Anyone I know?”

The receptionist shook her head. “There’s only thirty-four of you. That was your number in the application stage.”

Even with a mission, my jaw fell open a little as the scope of the operation became clear. They’d already discarded … who knew how many applications … and I’d made that cut. Only thirty-four in, though … At least that would make collecting the names easier. “I’ll get out of your way, then.”

“Down the hall and to the left.” She had already returned to her ledger, leaving me to my own devices.

Down the hall and to the left led me past a line of women. All of them white. Would I have noticed, if not for Ida and Imogene joining the 99s? Probably not. As I walked down the line, Nicole leaned out to wave at me.

I paused next to her. “Fancy meeting you here. Anyone else we know?”

“I’ve seen Betty, Jerrie Coleman, and Jackie Cochran, but I haven’t been keeping a list. It’s not all white people, though.” She shrugged, and the fabric of her dress rippled with the movement. It was a navy blue dress that had a white collar to seem serious and a tightly girdled waist to seem … we’ll say “approachable.” She pointed farther down the line. “See? Maggie is here.”

“Oh, yeah.” Six or seven places back stood a lone Chinese woman. Maggie Gee had been a WASP during the war. She and I didn’t really know each other, but she had been one of two Chinese women there, so hard to miss. I waved as I headed to the rear of the line, but I don’t think she recognized me.

Around us, women circulated in a susurration of crinoline and starched cotton. Not a single one was black. And the longer I stood there, the clearer it became that Maggie was the only person who wasn’t white.

Pulling a notepad out of my purse, I jotted down the names of everyone I recognized. Fifteen or so had been WASPs, even if I didn’t remember all of their names.

I stood there, heels aching, as we all waited. I attempted small talk with the woman behind me—Francesca Gurrieri, from Italy—but our silences were filled with wondering what would happen. The line ended at a pair of double doors. Periodically, a woman would emerge and we would shuffle forward.

I tried to make guesses about what was happening inside based on the way they came out, but all I could really tell was that some people had done well—they walked with shoulders back and chins held up. If anyone ever forgot that these women were all pilots, all you had to do was look at the cocky edge in their stride.

Sabiha G ?k ?en sauntered out of the doors. I jotted her name down on my list and then did a double take.

She was wearing a pantsuit and tennis shoes. Darn it. That was brilliant. I’d fallen into the trap of trying to present myself well, but they were looking for pilots, not ladies.

It would be all right. I smoothed the wool of my skirt and took a breath. Most of the other women were also in skirts, and it didn’t seem to make a difference to the way they came out of the double doors.

Nicole vanished inside along with four other women. I shuffled forward.

I was beginning to regret not taking a Miltown that morning, but the drug slowed my thoughts just enough that I hadn’t wanted to chance it. I didn’t think they would ask us to do any flying, but there might be a simulator. All this waiting, though … it did make a girl’s stomach flip over.

Nicole came out smiling and strode straight down the hall to me. She leaned in. “This part’s a cake walk. It’s just blood tests and blowing in tubes—like the screening they did when we applied to be WASPs.”

I let out a breath. “It would have been nice if they’d told us.”

“I suspect they’re trying to see how people do under pressure.” She winked. “Got an ace up my sleeve there.”

My eyes widened, then I managed a laugh. She’d taken a Miltown? “I guess being a senator’s wife makes you a little immune.”

“That’s exactly what I meant. And now … I’m off to take a written test on the second floor.” She rested a hand on my arm. “You’ll do great.”

After she left, I went back to shuffling forward until it was my turn through the double doors and into a stark white-and-chrome ward filled with nurses in equally stark white uniforms.

The nurse assigned to me got me settled on a chair next to a low enameled cart. She was a brisk white woman in her mid-fifties with steel gray hair tucked up under her nurse’s cap. Her name tag said “Mrs. Rhode.” “Now, Mrs. York, we’re just going to draw a little blood.”

“Of course.” It made me glad I’d opted for a sweater set, since that made my arms easy to access. I pulled off the cardigan. “The veins on my left arm are easier.”

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