Hello!

A few years ago, my dad said, ‘Jenny, have you ever thought of writing a book about a girl who

wants to be an astrophysicist?’ I snorted – derisively – then pushed

his ridiculous idea to the back of my mind. It was ridiculous because:

a) I wasn’t entirely sure what an astrophysicist did.

b) Despite Dad having asked me how many miles it was to the sun (every single day of my childhood), I’d somehow grown into an adult who knew nothing about space … except for how many miles it was to the sun (ninety-three million, give or take a few).

So how could I ever write about a girl who wants to be an astrophysicist? Well, I can’t resist a challenge, particularly one thrown down by my dad, and slowly the idea grew in my mind. The

girl became Meg and her dream got bigger: she didn’t just want to be an astrophysicist, she wanted to be an astronaut. She wanted to leave

planet Earth and fl oat in space.

If I was going to understand how Meg’s mind worked, I had to learn about the things she loved. I discovered that when we look at stars we’re gazing

into the past, that our sun is just one of over one billion trillion stars in the universe, and that on Mars you can jump three times higher than you can on Earth. I looked into one of the largest refracting telescopes in the world and saw further than I’d ever seen before in my life.

Thanks to Meg (and Dad!), my world has got bigger. About forty-six billion light years bigger.

If you want to join Meg as she reaches for the stars, or just need a little space in your life, then turn the page. Her mission is about to begin!

Stargazing_intro_letter.indd 2 01/02/2017 11:449781408879757_txt_print.indb 1 03/02/2017 12:40

About The Author

Before Jenny started writing books about the Ladybirds

(Bea, Betty, Kat and Pearl), she was an English teacher

at a large secondary school. Although she loved teaching

funny teenagers (and stealing the things they said and

putting them in her books), she now gets to write about

them full-time. When Jenny isn’t thinking about stories,

writing stories or eating cake, she enjoys jiving and

running around the South Downs. Jenny lives by the

seaside with her husband and two small but fi erce girls.

Twitter: @JennyMcLachlan1

Instagram: jennymclachlan_writer

www.jennymclachlan.com

Sunkissed_Title_Pages.indd 2 19/06/2015 12:22

Also by

STargazing_About_author_page.indd 2 31/01/2017 15:549781408879757_txt_print.indb 2 03/02/2017 12:40

Stargazing_Title_Pages.indd 3 09/12/2016 15:54

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 3 03/02/2017 12:40

Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Oxford, New York, New Delhi and Sydney

First published in Great Britain in April 2017 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

www.blooms bury.com

BLOOMSBURY is a registered trade mark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Copy right © Jenny McLachlan 2017

The moral rights of the author have been asser ted

All rights reservedNo part of this public a tion may be repro duced or

trans mit ted by any means, elec tronic, mech an ical, photo copy ingor other wise, without the prior permis sion of the publisher

A CIP cata logue record for this book is avail able from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 4088 7975 7

Typeset by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, SuffolkPrinted and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 4 03/02/2017 12:40

For my brother and sister, Nick and Julia.

I love sharing life on planet Earth with you two.

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 5 03/02/2017 12:40

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 6 03/02/2017 12:40

1

one

On my seventh birth day, Grandad made me a

rocket. He used the card board box the washing

machine came in, put a cone on the top and painted the

whole thing white. Then he sten cilled MEGARA 1 on

the side with red paint.

Mum took her hands away from my eyes and I blinked.

The rocket nearly touched the ceiling. ‘Is it real?’ I asked.

‘Almost,’ she said.

Grandad handed me my bike helmet. ‘Are you ready

for your first mission, Meg?’

I nodded. ‘I think so.’

I was already wearing my astro naut pyjamas so all I

had to do was put on the helmet and climb inside the

rocket. Mum handed me a broken keyboard – my control

panel – then shut the door. I ran my hands over the keys.

Grandad had stuck labels on the differ ent buttons: fuel

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 1 03/02/2017 12:40

2

boost, disen gage, pres sure drop. One button was painted

green and simply said, LIFT-OFF.

‘Megara 1,’ Grandad said, putting on his smoothest

American accent, ‘you’re good at one minute.’

‘Roger,’ I replied. Grandad and I were always watch ing

NASA docu ment ar ies so I knew exactly what to say.

‘Megara 1, this is Houston. You are go for staging.’

‘Inboard cut off,’ I said, tapping buttons randomly,

‘staging and igni tion.’ At that exact moment a deep growl

burst out and I real ised Mum had turned on the vacuum

cleaner. Its roar filled the card board rocket. I felt my heart

speed up with excite ment and I tightened my grip on the

keyboard.

‘Megara 1, this is Houston!’ Grandad shouted to be

heard over the vac. ‘Thrust is GO. All engines. You’re

looking good. This is ten seconds and count ing.’

‘Ten,’ I called out, ‘nine … eight …’

Grandad and Mum joined in. ‘Seven … six … five …’

Then one of them started shaking the rocket around.

‘Mum!’

‘What is it?’ Her face appeared at the cut- out window.

‘I’m scared!’

She reached through the window and took hold of my

hand. Her silver rings pressed into my skin. ‘Don’t be

scared, Meg. I’m here.’

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 2 03/02/2017 12:40

3

‘Four … three … two … one …’ contin ued Grandad.

‘All engines running,’ I said, then I slammed my finger

down on the green button. ‘Launch commit!’

‘Lift- off!’ shouted Grandad. ‘We have lift- off!’

Mum let go of my hand and disap peared.

The vac roared, the rocket shook wildly from side to

side and I was leaving Earth and shoot ing into deepest

space!

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 3 03/02/2017 12:40

4

two

Eight years later. Back on planet Earth.

Before I get my break fast, I make sure everything in

my bedroom is just right.

I smooth down the duvet, push the chair under the

desk and turn my globe so England is facing the sun.

Then I get a red pen and cross yester day off my home-

work timetable. Good. If I spend a couple of hours

working on my speech tonight then I’ll be right on

track. I don’t believe in luck or super sti tion, but before

I leave the room I take a moment to glance at my

picture of Valentina Tereshkova – the first woman to fly

in space. Her steely gaze keeps me focused during

the day.

I grab some Weetabix from the kitchen then follow

the thud, thud, thud coming from the front room. Only

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 4 03/02/2017 12:40

5

Mum would play bass anthems at eight in the morning.

I find her kneel ing on the floor, blowing up a paddling

pool. Sitting on the sofa is my sister, Elsa, a jammy crust

dangling out of her mouth.

I turn down the music then join Elsa. I start eating my

cereal, trying to ignore Elsa’s power ful wee smell. Her

nappy looks suspi ciously bulgy.

There’s a hiss of air as Mum pushes in a plastic

stopper. ‘Looking forward to trying out our new paddling

pool?’

‘Not really,’ I say. ‘Mum, we live in a flat. Why do we

need a paddling pool?’

‘So we can have fun, Meg! I thought we could fill it

up and pretend summer’s here.’

I look around. Toys, clothes and books are spread all

over the carpet and Pongo is running round and round

the paddling pool, barking at the inflated rings. ‘Mum,

there isn’t enough room for it in here.’

‘There’s loads of room,’ she says, then she jumps to

her feet. ‘I’m going to start filling it up.’

Elsa takes the crust out of her mouth and holds it

out to me.

‘No thanks,’ I say, but she keeps jabbing it in my

direc tion.

‘Da!’ she says. ‘Da, da!’

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 5 03/02/2017 12:40

6

‘OK, OK.’ I take it off her and pretend to eat it. ‘Nom,

nom,’ I say. ‘Happy now?’

Elsa smiles, sticks her thumb in her mouth and flops

back on the sofa. Then we watch as Mum runs to and

from the kitchen with pans of steam ing water. She’s

wearing her Tinker Bell nightie and her bleached- blonde

dreads are gathered on the top of her head with a

scrunchie. Her brace lets jangle as each pan of water

splashes into the pool.

After six trips, the water just about covers the bottom.

‘It’s going to take ages,’ she says sadly, swish ing a toe in

the water. ‘Can you help me, Meg?’

‘Sorry. I’ve got to get to school.’ I go to the mirror over

the mantel piece and start brush ing my hair back into a

pony tail.

‘Such beau ti ful hair,’ says Mum. I can see her in the

mirror watch ing me, her turquoise nose stud gleam ing on

her pale face. We look so differ ent: me with my dark eyes

and hair and Mum, blue- eyed and with hair so blonde it’s

almost white. ‘I wish you’d wear it down.’

‘It’s easier this way.’ I smooth a strand of hair behind

my ear and button up my blazer. I brush some toast

crumbs off my shoulder. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready

for work, Mum?’

‘In a minute. I’ll just put a bit more water in.’

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 6 03/02/2017 12:40

7

Mum runs the Mencap charity shop in town. That’s

her paid job, but she’s got loads of others, like fundrais ing

for Greenpeace and running the community allot ment.

She wants to make the planet a cleaner, better place. It’s

fair to say she doesn’t feel the same way about our flat.

‘Meg, can you babysit Elsa after school?’ Mum dumps

another pan of water into the paddling pool. ‘You know

my friend Sara, the nurse?’ I shake my head. Mum’s got

so many friends I can’t keep up with them all. ‘Well,

Sara’s going to do some volun teer work abroad and she

needs a lift to the airport.’

‘I don’t know …’ I think about tonight’s jam- packed

square on my home work timetable. ‘I’ve got so much

work to do … Plus I’ve got to prac tise my speech.’

Mum looks at me, eyes wide. ‘I’ll be back around

six. You and Elsa can just hang out together until then.

It’ll be fun!’

I look at Elsa, who’s now lying on her back on the sofa,

gurg ling and trying to get her foot in her mouth. ‘You

really need to give Sara a lift?’

‘It would help her out a lot,’ Mum says, then she pulls

me into a hug, press ing my face into her hair and I smell

the sandal wood incense she loves so much.

I put up with it for a moment then wriggle out of her

arms. ‘OK,’ I say.

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 7 03/02/2017 12:40

8

Mum’s face lights up. ‘What would I do without you?’

Over Mum’s shoulder, I see Elsa crawl towards the

edge of the sofa, reach ing for Pongo’s tail. ‘Mum!’ I

say, but already Elsa is losing her balance. She wobbles

for a second then tumbles forward, landing on the floor

with a thud.

There’s this moment of silence before the scream ing

starts. Mum darts across the room and scoops Elsa up.

‘Poor baby!’ she says, shower ing her with kisses. Pongo

jumps up and tries to stick his pointy nose between them.

‘I’m going now,’ I say, but they don’t hear me. Now

Pongo’s been pulled into the hug too and his excited

barks rise over Elsa’s screams. I slip out of the flat and

shut the door behind me.

Immediately, I’m hit by the quiet, the bright cold air

and the view.

Our flat might be small and damp, but it’s got the best

view in town. I stand on the balcony and look from the

houses of the estate to my school. Beyond school, I see

the hotels, the sea and the pier. Then I look up at the sky,

higher and higher, until I find the moon. It’s a white

smudge that’s disap pear ing fast.

I turn and run down the concrete stair way, my feet

ringing out with each step.

I’ve got to get to school. I’ve got so much to do.

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 8 03/02/2017 12:40

9

thrEe

School’s good. I get one hundred per cent in a maths

test, finally learn how to conjug ate German verbs

and spend lunch time in the library research ing my

favour ite star, Alpha Centauri B.

When I know the canteen will be quiet, I go and get

some lunch. It looks like almost every one’s been chucked

out, but some students from my year – Bella Lofthouse

and her friends – are still sitting round a table while the

lunch time super visors clean up. As I walk past, they

glance over at me, and I see Bella’s lips curve up in a

smile. Quickly, I turn away. Bella is always laugh ing with

her friends and she finds me partic u larly funny. The

longer I hang around the more likely it is that she’ll say

some thing to me and somehow I’ll end up looking stupid.

I grab the first sand wich I see – egg mayon naise – pay for

it, then walk straight out of the canteen.

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 9 03/02/2017 12:40

10

It’s at times like this that I miss Harriet. She was my

best friend at school. OK, she was my only friend in or

out of school, but that didn’t matter because we were

soul mates, and we did everything together – walking

to school, eating lunch, talking for hours on the phone,

sleep overs … Harriet even went camping with me and

Mum every summer. Then, one day, she told me that her

mum and dad were talking about moving to New Zealand.

Five months later, she was gone.

When a huge star dies, there is a massive explo sion,

a super nova, and later, all that’s left is a dark, dense

black hole where no light can get in or out. From bril liant

light ness to total dark ness: that’s what it felt like when

Harriet left.

When I got over the shock of her going and looked

around me, there didn’t seem to be a place for me

anywhere: every one else was paired up or in groups. I

did try to talk to people, wriggle into their conver sa tions,

but Harriet had always done the talking for both of

us and I was out of prac tice. Plus, like I said, I was

shocked when she went and feeling a bit like a dark,

dense black hole.

Who wants to be friends with a dark, dense black

hole? No one!

All that dark ness has gone now, but the friend- making

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 10 03/02/2017 12:40

11

moment seems to have passed by. Which is why, right

now, I’m leaning against the wall by the girls’ toilets

eating an egg sand wich all on my own.

Like I said. Sometimes I miss Harriet.

9781408879757_txt_print.indb 11 03/02/2017 12:40