The Two Star Marks

Willa reached for the telescope just as Renn did.

“I had it lined up,” she said as the telescope swung away from the stars.

Renn’s hands were still on its wooden handles. Willa’s hands were there, too. The little telescope wobbled on its wide, round base, then pointed toward a patch of empty hilltop.

“I only wanted to help,” Renn said.

Willa sat on one of the two floor cushions in the hilltop observatory. Renn sat on the other. Between them stood the telescope, small enough to fit beside a grown-up’s chair, with a round eyepiece and a knob that turned with a soft click.

Renn and Willa were young aliens who lived as neighbors on a friendly planet. Outside the open dome, stars filled the night sky. A blue ring circled a distant planet called Luma. Renn had heard about it all week from the observatory keeper. Tonight, the clouds had parted, and the ring was supposed to be easy to see.

Renn wanted to see it with Willa. He had brought two cups of warm moonberry milk, and Willa had brought a little notebook for drawing what they found. They often watched the sky together. But neither of them had looked through the telescope yet.

“Let’s find the blue ring,” Renn said. “Then we can draw it together.”

“I’m ready,” said Willa. She leaned toward the eyepiece.

Renn leaned, too. “I can turn the knob for you.”

“I can turn it myself.”

“I know. I just want to make sure we see it.”

Willa reached for the telescope. Renn held on to the other handle. They tugged—not hard at first, just enough to make the telescope swivel. Then Renn pulled one way, and Willa pulled the other.

The telescope gave a squeaky turn. The stars slid out of view. The blue-ringed planet was nowhere near the eyepiece now.

Both children let go. The telescope pointed at the observatory wall, where a painted picture of a sleepy moon watched them.

Willa looked down at her hands. Renn looked at the telescope. Neither spoke for a moment.

Then Renn noticed something on the base beneath it: a tiny star-shaped mark, just beside his cushion.

Renn bent closer to the telescope’s wide base. The little star mark was carved into the wood. He looked around the other side. There, beside Willa’s cushion, was another star-shaped mark.

“Willa, look,” he said. “There’s one on your side, too.”

She leaned over to see. “Why would there be two?”

Renn traced the air above the marks without touching them. “Maybe they show where our cushions go. If we sit on opposite sides, we can take turns looking without pulling the telescope.”

Willa glanced at the cushions. Each one had been set near a star mark, though Renn’s had slid a little when they tugged. She nudged hers back into place.

“I think you’re right,” she said.

Renn looked at the telescope, still aimed at the painted moon. He felt a small pinch in his cheeks. “I’m sorry I pulled so hard. I wanted to see the ring, but I made us point the wrong way.”

Willa’s shoulders relaxed. “I pulled, too. And you can have one turn first. I can wait.”

“Thank you,” said Renn. “Then it’ll be your turn next.”

He stood beside his star mark and put one hand lightly on the telescope’s handle. Willa settled on her own cushion, ready to guide him if he needed it. Renn turned the telescope slowly. A row of stars passed through the view. He stopped, turned the knob a little, and looked again.

“There!” Willa whispered. “The bright one beside the little triangle.”

Renn eased the telescope toward it. The planet Luma appeared in the eyepiece, round and pale, with a blue ring curving around it like a ribbon drawn in the dark.

“I see it!” Renn said. He stayed at the eyepiece for just a little while, counting the tiny bumps of light along the ring. Then he stepped back from his cushion.

“Your turn.”

Willa moved to the other star mark and leaned in. Renn kept his hands folded in his lap. For a moment, the telescope stayed still between them.

“Oh,” Willa murmured. “The ring looks like a little bridge.”

Renn smiled. “A bridge for stars.”

She looked once more, then stepped back so they could both see the planet through the open dome.

The blue ring hung above the hill like a neat, curved line. Renn and Willa sat on their cushions, one on each side of the telescope. Now they knew where to sit, and they knew to let the other person have room.

“Want to find something else?” Willa asked.

Renn looked through the open dome. “That group of stars looks like a spoon.”

Willa tilted her head. “A spoon for stirring moonberry milk.”

“A very big spoon,” Renn said. “It could stir a whole moon.”

They took turns pointing out shapes. Willa found a little house with a slanted roof. Renn found a long-tailed fish. The shapes weren’t really there, of course, but the two alien neighbors could imagine them among the distant stars.

When it was Renn’s turn to look again, he let Willa settle on her cushion first. When it was Willa’s turn, she waited while Renn moved back. The telescope turned with an easy click each time. Their cups sat safely beside the cushions, and the notebook rested open between them.

Willa drew the blue ring, then added the spoon-shaped stars. Renn drew the fish with a long tail. They passed the notebook back and forth, making space for each other’s pictures.

A small cloud crossed in front of Luma. The blue ring disappeared behind it.

“We can wait,” said Willa.

Renn nodded. They moved their cushions closer together, shoulder to shoulder, and watched the cloud pass slowly across the open dome. The telescope stood beside them, resting on its wide base. Its two star marks faced the two cushions.

While they waited, Renn pointed out a row of stars shaped like stepping-stones. Willa said they looked more like crumbs left by a giant bird. They both giggled, then quieted as the hilltop settled around them.

At last, the cloud moved on. The blue ring returned to view, and the children looked at it together without touching the telescope. They sat close, sharing the last of their moonberry milk and the quiet of the observatory.

When it was time to go home, Renn carried the notebook and Willa carried the empty cups. They walked down the hill side by side, already agreeing that next time they would bring a fresh page for their sky drawings.