Telescope

My name is Terra Chambers. I’m twenty-five, and I work for NASA as a mechanical engineer. This is a tale about a choice that defined and determined my life, and the story about how I met—and didn’t meet—some decidedly interesting people. 

I was fourteen, a freshman at Southern Valley High. My best friend back then was a girl named Amberly Tiscos, and she was, and still probably is, wretched. 

She was the kind of girl who vaped in the bathrooms, who whooped and hollered and was super loud while you were just trying to get to your class, and who made fun of teachers on Instagram. 

She was exactly the type of girl I wished I could avoid.

And unfortunately, because at that time I had been terrible at telling good apart from devilish, she was my best friend.

Amberly was manipulative and cruel, and the funny thing was, she didn’t even try to hide it. There were so many signs of this I missed, so many things she did that should’ve told me, “get away! She’s bad news!” but I was so blind-sighted by the fact that she, a popular, self-confident (or so I thought), and amazingly beautiful girl, would be my friend that I didn’t pay any attention. Back then, I probably would’ve jumped off a cliff if she asked. 

At the time, she was really into theater. She’d beg and beg and plead and do whatever she could to force me to join the drama club. I took this begging—foolishly, might I add—as a sign that she really just wanted to share this experience with me. (She didn’t, of course, she just wanted to humiliate me to look good, but I was pretty stupid back then). 

But I didn’t want to do it. I hated theater. I hated it. Musicals made me frazzled, props made me appreciate TV’s realism, and I had horrible stage fright. Of course, when I told Amberly all of this, she didn’t care and brushed it off, saying I’d get over it and that it was great fun.

Maybe it was great fun, and maybe I would’ve gotten over it if I’d tried, but I just couldn’t. So I declined her invite, indefinitely breaking our “friendship” in the process. I always wondered what would’ve happened if I hadn’t done that…

-

“Fine, I’ll go!” I snapped in a huff. She’d been wearing me down all day, and now she’d won. How great that must’ve felt.

She didn’t even say thank you, despite the giant sacrifice—two of my afternoons a week—I’d just made for her. She just giggled, “This is gonna be so good,” and turned back to writing Hamilton’s “Schuyler Sisters” lyrics on her own paper. She hummed them under her breath, and every single word made my decision feel more wrong. 

Drama club. The worst thing the school could possibly offer (in my opinion), and I was going.

Why was I such a pushover? I opened my mouth to say “never mind” but then noticed Amberly had popped earbuds into her ears and was jamming to music while the teacher, Mrs. Umbers, drawled about something mind-numbingly boring. 

I scowled. I hated how smart she was, especially since she devoted her brainpower to making me miserable. Now I was stuck with this. If I didn’t go, she’d probably dump me, which couldn’t happen. I assumed it’d be for the best, since she was a crappy person and even worse friend, and definitely not worth my time, but I didn’t have any other friends, and I couldn’t bear to be alone.

I’d pushed away all of my other friends when I’d started hanging out with popular, pretty, carefree Amberly, and though I’d considered finding them and groveling at their feet until they agreed to try again, I hadn’t done it. Most of them had moved away, or hated me, or both, so it was pretty much hopeless.

Since I was more introverted and tended to be a bit pessimistic, people often thought I was too dark or too quiet or too secretive for their taste. Amberly was willing to look past that when she met me, and I honestly wished she hadn’t.

I rubbed my temples and sighed under my breath. I’d dug this hole, my dirty, ugly grave, and now I’d have to climb out of it, or keep digging. 

I looked at Amberly. She still had her earbuds in, and didn’t have a care in the world, by the looks of it. She’d gotten what she’d wanted, so why should she?

I suppose I’d keep digging.

-

I trailed Amberly into the drama club room sourly, a frown drawn onto my face that I intended to keep there for the entirety of two hours (the length of the club). I didn’t think I’d have any fun in this club, so I didn’t even bother to try and look happy.

Amberly strutted in imperiously, throwing her arm around a pale, pixielike girl with a sharp chin, who had a high-pitched, girlish laugh. I didn’t know her name, but I knew she was one of Amberly’s stupid clones, so I didn’t care to.

I found an empty seat shoved into a corner of the room and slumped into it, my grouchy frown still intact. I’d begun to picture my expression as a drawing in wet cement now dried—firm, unmoving, ugly, and aggravating.

I was too busy sulking and watching Amberly with all of her other friends to notice a girl who slid into the seat next to me. I jerked my head, casting the girl a glare that would’ve made me shrink backwards. 

She didn’t cower. She gave me a jaunty grin. I stared at her, unwavering. She was very pretty, with flowy black hair that tumbled down her shoulders, a bright pink flower tucked artfully behind one ear, and twinkling sky blue eyes that rivaled the beauty of Heaven itself. She was Asian, with lighter skin. “What’s with the face?” she asked, and even her voice was wondrous. A symphony of melodic sounds, weaving together to create something unique and beautiful. 

I nearly forgot to reply. It was like all words had been knocked loose from my brain. “I—don’t ask.” I muttered, remembering I was supposed to be gruff and rude. It was hard to even think about being mad, though, with her eyes on me.

She shrugged, and a strand of black hair fell into her eyes. She gently tucked it behind her ear and combed her fingers through her thick black locks, making me realize people could be that beautiful.

“So,” she said breezily after a second, turning back to me. “What’s your name? I’m Evelyn Nightingale.” 

My response was hurried; suddenly my shell of self-doubts and insincerities was broken. Now I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she got up and left. “Terra Chambers,” I told her quickly. It hurt to look at her, because it felt like my heart might actually burst, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

This must be love. 

Her smile returned, more breathtaking than before. She wasn’t just pretty, I realized—she was drop-dead gorgeous. I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw her on a runway at a fashion show. 

“Okay, Terra,” her smile turned into a mischievous grin. She was toying with some sort of idea. “What’s your opinion on our newest president?” 

I paused. It took me a moment to catch up. “The club president?” I asked.

Evelyn put her elbow on the desk she was sitting in front of and cupped her chin in her hand. She pointed with her other hand. “Gabriella Vancleaf.” she directed. My eyes tracked where she was pointing. A tan-skinned, curly-haired girl was eagerly discussing something with two other kids. She seemed so eager and happy, but it only made me feel sadder.

In my peripheral, I noticed Evelyn seemed to be awaiting my answer, which startled (and pleased) me. I’d forgotten I hadn’t been speaking to Amberly, who only ever pretended to care about my opinion. Evelyn was different. I liked that.

I turned back to her. “Oh, um; I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.” 

Evelyn nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, a nasty voice that turned my blood to ice sounded in front of us. 

“That’s where you drifted off to, Terra!” Amberly’s voice was laced with venom and fake joy as she slammed her elbow into the desk in front of me, a vicious smile curled onto her lips. Her dirty blond hair was mounted in a wobbly bun on top of her head, and her makeup was on point, as usual, which only made her harder to look at, because I knew I couldn’t rival her in any beauty contest.

She knew it too. She studied my face. “I see a little stubble there, Terra.” she clicked her tongue, shaking her head and tapping her finger at my chin. It shouldn’t have worked, since she said this a lot to embarrass me, but my hand flew up to my face anyway. If she was telling the truth, I didn’t want Evelyn to see that, and she definitely would now that Amberly had so annoyingly brought it up. 

Stupid, ugly rat, I thought bitterly as I glared at Amberly, who’d shifted her focus and was now chatting up Evelyn, who seemed to really like her.

I watched them, my hand falling from my face. I felt detached from my body. Amberly made a joke, and Evelyn laughed. Amberly brushed a strand of hair from Evelyn’s face, and she smiled. 

They’d completely forgotten I was there.

I turned away, unable to watch anymore. Amberly was straight! Fiery and hate surged through me, like a river of blazing hot lava flowing from an erupting volcano. She’d seen. She’d known. She knew I was bisexual, and she’d seen Evelyn talking to me, and she… 

She’d had to ruin it all. 

Like usual, Amberly had crushed my hope at anything different.

She’d crushed me.

After Drama club was over, I overheard Amberly eagerly asking Evelyn to come to her house for a movie night. Evelyn said yes. 

Neither of them even thought to invite me. 

I trailed behind them in the hallway as the other clubs—astronomy, art, gardening—filed out of their selective rooms. A boy with tousled brown hair accidentally bumped into me as he lugged a giant telescope down the hallway. 

“Sorry!” he called out, at least having the nerve to look apologetic. He stopped to look at me, trudging behind happily chatting Amberly and Evelyn. 

I waved him off, despite the pain that seeped into my bones from where the telescope had hit my leg. I picked up the pace in a hobble, leaving the boy behind. I just wanted to get out. 

I could feel his eyes on me as I followed Amberly and Evelyn outside. 

As I stepped onto the cobbly stairs, watching the two of them chirping away like songbirds, I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was a bitter, lonely smile. 

It wasn’t love I had felt, was it?

Because it was gone now. 

-

It felt good to stand up for myself. I felt stronger. More whole. Maybe more me than I ever have before in my relationship with Amberly. This made what happened next even more surprising, as I couldn’t have foreseen how that decision to say no would change my life. 

-

I stared at Amberly, patiently awaiting my “yes, fine, I’ll go to your stupid club” as we sat in the math classroom that day. Her calculated smile was seeping into my brain like an invasive species of wildflower, making me confused. 

I couldn’t take it.

“No!” I snapped suddenly, and turned away. I felt something snap inside of me. “I’m not going with you. Stop asking!” Anger churned in my stomach, and it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders when I refused, even though I knew I’d feel guilty if I looked back and saw Amberly’s sad expression. She loved to guilt trip me. 

There was silence for a moment (besides the teacher talking about some type of geometric sequence or something) and then Amberly said curtly, “Fine. I’ll just find someone who will.”

I grinned to myself, ignoring my rising dread at the possibility of being friendless. Anything was better than this. Even being a social outcast. 

Great.

I’d decided to go to a club as well to look like I wasn’t doing nothing with my life. Maybe I’d meet and talk to someone, but I’d probably just sit pathetically in a corner. 

Gosh, my personality was crap. 

I’d chosen the astronomy club, since stars and the galaxy had always fascinated me. I figured at least I’d try and enjoy listening to all the nerds talk about science-y stuff, even if I probably wouldn’t talk at all. 

I walked towards a seat in the back, ready to blend into the background like I’d planned, when a boy with ruffled brown hair who was dragging a giant telescope bumped into me on his way into the classroom. 

“Sorry!” he yelped in surprise, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry—”

I staggered back, feeling pain like an electric shock shoot up my left leg, where the telescope had hit. “It’s alright,” I told him quickly, trying not to hiss in pain as I lowered myself into the nearest chair to rub my leg. 

The boy burdened the telescope on a pretty European girl who was hovering nearby and rushed over to me before she could give it back. I was rubbing my elbow on the desk in front of me, trying to hurt myself so I’d ignore the other pain. No, there wasn’t really any logic behind it, if you’re wondering.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he told me guiltily, flushing red. “Um, you’re new, right? Can I sit?” he asked. “I can teach you the basics…”

“Sure.” I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, and bit the inside of my cheek when my leg brushed against the desk leg.

He smiled and shoved himself into a chair, digging around in his pocket. He pulled out and unfolded a crumpled-looking map of all the stars and constellations. “Do you want to see the stars? I have a bunch of maps, my dad’s obsessed with them—” 

I had a feeling he’d keep rambling if I didn’t stop him. “That sounds great,” I interrupted, trying to be enthusiastic.  

He looked downright starstruck when I said those words, and giddily pressed the map in between our desks. “Okay, so—” he began, but I held out a hand to stop him. 

“Wait,” I said “What’s your name?” 

He looked at me, surprised. “Oh—Silas. Silas Winters.” he replied, brushing a bit of hair out of his eyes again. I barely noticed the tug at my heartstrings when he did that, but I’d grow to know the feeling. “You?” 

“Terra Chambers. Nice to meet you, Silas,” I thrust my hand at him, old-fashioned style. 

Silas took it, and we shook hands, meeting eyes as we did. We both smiled at each other. My heart tugged again. This time, I noticed a bit, but shook it off, like I’d keep doing for a while until I realized that feeling meant much more than I thought. 

And despite me ignoring it, it continued to get stronger, for me and Silas (though I didn’t know he mirrored my feelings like that). 

When it kept growing, I put the pieces together.

This was real love, wasn’t it?

Silas Winters isn’t Silas Winters anymore. He’s Silas Chambers. That’s right. We got married. 

He was my friend all through high school, then we figured out we were both legacy students at the same college, and then we figured out we both wanted to work at NASA. 

I proposed to him on March 14, 2034, and we shook hands afterward. It was our code, and it still is. 

I’ve always wondered what could’ve happened if things were different. If I’d never met Silas, if we’d never shaken hands, if I’d never stared into his blue eyes and felt that tiny little flutter of my heart. 

But now, telling you this, I don’t think it matters. 

Silas is my husband, my life, my world. 

A world without him would be wrong. A world where he brushed past me, bumping into my leg with his telescope, and where I waved him off and walked away would be wrong.

This life, despite how imperfect, despite how troublesome and annoying and irritating— 

I’m so glad to live it.  

I’m so glad for that telescope, and for the boy that came with it. 

Thank you.