“She leaned back against the step, smoothing her hands over her stomach. Though she wasn't showing yet, just in the last week she'd started to look different. It wasn't something I could describe easily. It was like those stop-action films of flowers blooming that we watched in Biology. Every frame something is happening, something little that would be missed in real time - the sprout pushing, bit by bit, from the ground, the petals slowly moving outward. To the naked eye, it's just suddenly blooming, color today where there was none before. But in real time, it's always building, working to show itself, to become.”

“You know what happens when someone dies?' Delia said suddenly, startling me a bit. I kept putting together my sandwich, though, not answering: I knew there was more. 'It's like, everything and everyone refracts, each person having a different reaction'...'When Wish died, it just knocked the wind out of me. Truly. It's like that stupid thing bert and Wes do, the leaping out thing, trying to scare each other: it was the biggest gotcha in the world.' She looked down at the sandwiches. 'I'd just assumed she'd be okay. It had never occurd to me she might actually just be... gone. You know?'...'And then she was,' Delia said, her hand on the bread bag. 'Gone. Gotcha. And suddenly I had these two boys to take care of, plus a newborn of my own. It was just this huge loss, this huge gap, you know'...'Some people... they can just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me... I don't know. I didn't want to fix it, to forget. It wasn't something that was broken. It's just ... something that happened. And like that hole, I'm just finding ways, every day, of working around it. Respecting and remebering and getting on at the same time.'I envied Delia. At least she knew what she was up against. Maybe that's what you got when you stood over your grief, facing it finally. A sense of its depths, its area, the distance across, and the way over or around it, whichever you chose in the end.”

“Some people, they can't just move on, you know, mourn and cry and be done with it. Or at least seem to be. But for me... I don't know. I didn't want to fix it, to forget. It wasn't something that was broken. It's just...something that happened. And like that hole, I'm just finding ways, every day, of working around it. Respecting and remembering and getting on at the same time. ”

“I wondered what kind of girl she'd be, and if she'd ever see the comet that was her name, and Grandma Halley's, and mine. I knew I'd try, one day, to take her and show her the sky, hold her against my lap as I told her how the comet went overhead, how it was clear and beautiful, and special, just like her. I hoped that Grace would be a little bit of the best of all of us; Scarlett's spirit, and my mother's strength, Marion's determination, and Michael's sly humor. I wasn't sure what I could give, not just yet. But I knew when I told her about the comet, years from now, I would know. And I would lean close to her ear, saying the words no one else could hear, explaining it all. The language of solace, and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.”

“So look," he began, leaning over the desk, "I was—""Excuse me?" Bethany said. Her voice was loud, even.Wes turned and looked at her. As he did so, I watched his profile, his arm, that little bit of the heart inhand peeking out from his sleeve."We can help you over here," Bethany said to him. "Did you have a question?""Um, sort of," Wes said, glancing at me, a mild smile on his face. "But—""I can answer it," Bethany said solidly, so confidently. Amanda, beside her, nodded, seconding this."Really, it's fine," he said, then looked at me again. He raised his eyebrows, and I just shrugged. "Okay,so—""She's only a trainee, she won't know the answer," Bethany told him, pushing her chair over closer towhere he was, her voice too loud, bossy even. "It's better if you ask me. Or ask us."Then, and only then, did I see the tiniest flicker of annoyance on Wes's face. "You know," Wes said, "Ithink she'll know it.""She won't. Ask me."Now it wasn't just a flicker. Wes looked at me, narrowing his eyes, and for a second I just stared back.Whatever happens, I thought, happens. For the first time, time at the info desk was flying."Okay," he said slowly, moving down the counter. He leaned on his elbows, closer to Bethany, and shesat up even straighter, readying herself, like someone onJeopardy awaiting the Daily Double. "So here'smy question."Amanda picked up a pen, as if there might be a written portion."Last night," Wes said, his voice serious, "when the supplies were being packed up, what happened tothe big tongs?"The sick part was that Bethany, for a second, looked as if she was actually flipping through her mentalRolodex for the answer. I watched her swallow, then purse her lips. "Well," she said. But that was all.I could feel myself smiling. A real smile.Wes looked at Amanda. "Do you know?"Amanda shook her head slowly."All right," he said, turning back to look at me. "Better ask the trainee, then. Macy?"I could feel Amanda and Bethany looking at me. "They're in the bottom of that cart with the brokenback wheel, under the aprons," I said. "There wasn't room for them with the other serving stuff.”

“I hoped that Grace would be a little bit of the best of all of us: Scarlett's spirit, and my mother's strength, Marion's determination, and Michael's sly humor. I wasn't sure what I could give, not just yet. But I would know when I told her about the comet, years from now, I would know. And I would lean close to her ear, saying the words no one else could hear, explaining it all. The language of solace and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.”

“He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.""Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony.""It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look."I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time.And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky.The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful.Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home."Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?""Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.”