Troubling a Star

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Authors: Madeleine L'Engle
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through ice.”
    My parents seemed to have been struck as speechless as I was, but now Daddy said, “It is a generous and beautiful gift, Miss Serena, but much too large for us to think about tonight. Let’s just relax and enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner. We have much to be thankful for.”
    Aunt Serena said, “I won’t enjoy Thanksgiving dinner if you’re going to deny me this pleasure.”
    Daddy said quietly, “If it’s at all possible, we won’t deny you the pleasure, but it’s a major trip, and we’ll need to discuss it.”
    I still felt as though I’d been kicked in the stomach. Me? Antarctica? I looked around the room, at the familiar
comfortableness of home. Mother had chamber music playing softly in the background, something of Dvoák’s, I think, music she played a lot. I looked at the table set with a white damask tablecloth and our best china and silver, and I knew I wanted to leave it all and go to Antarctica more than I’d ever wanted anything.
    John said, “My vote is for Vicky to go.”
    Suzy said, “I s’pose. Mine, too.”
    Rob, always anxious about separation, asked, “Is Antarctica safe?”
    Aunt Serena said, “As safe as any place in the world, Rob.” She looked at my father, and I thought of Adam II going out in his Zodiac and never coming back.
    John said reassuringly to Rob, “Just think of all the postcards of penguins Vicky can send you.”
    â€œPolar bears?”
    â€œThat’s the Arctic. No bears in Antarctica. But there are penguins.”
    â€œAnd seals,” Suzy said.
    Aunt Serena changed the subject. “My! What wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. And how lovely the table looks.”
    Mother said, “I use the linen cloths for Thanksgiving and Christmas. They take forever to iron.”
    At dinner Aunt Serena was seated at my father’s right, and I was next to her. I whispered, “Aunt Serena, I’m so stunned, I—I can’t quite take it in.”
    â€œThat’s all right, my dear. I know your parents need to discuss it before they’re willing to let you go off on such a
long trip. However, I think they will. I’d go myself if I could. But since I can’t, the next best thing is to send you.”
    Â 
    My parents did discuss it with Aunt Serena, at length, and with Cook. Cook, as usual, was calm, but positive. “Madam’s heart is set. The trip will be an education for Miss Vicky, and she’ll make the most of it.”
    Â 
    By Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend no decisions had been made, but I had the feeling that my parents were going to give in to Aunt Serena’s determination.
    John left to go back to M.I.T., and Adam came to take me to Clovenford. He gave me a big hug and swung me around. “So you’re going to Antarctica! Terrific!”
    Mother said quickly, “It’s not decided yet.”
    Adam sounded wheedling. “You’ll really make Aunt Serena unhappy if you don’t let Vicky go. And hey, congratulations on winning that poetry prize, Vicky!”
    Mother beamed, and I blushed and said, “Thanks.”
    â€œAunt Serena showed me the paper with the winning poems. I thought yours was much better than the one that won first prize, and so did Aunt Serena.”
    Actually, the first-prize poem was pretty bad, and that made me wonder about the caliber of the judges, and if maybe my poem wasn’t very good, either. I’d mentioned my suspicions to my English teacher, who’d told me that my poem was excellent, and it was recognized as such, and not to worry about anything else.

    Adam said, “We’ll be off, Mrs. Austin, and I’ll have Vicky home by ten o’clock.”
    â€œAt the latest,” Mother said. “The school bus will come tomorrow morning as usual.”
    When we drove down the road, Adam said, “If I had to bet on it, I’d bet they’re

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