The Patient Moon Prank — Under the orbit chart, Juno held her brush above the label that said FULL MOON and waited for the ink to quit shining. The chart room smelled like warm chalk and metal rulers. Read the full story →
Under the orbit chart, Juno held her brush above the label that said FULL MOON and waited for the ink to quit shining. The chart room smelled like warm chalk and metal rulers. Around her, the moon phases clicked softly in their little tracks: new, crescent, quarter, gibbous, full. Juno wanted to add one tiny silver dot to the center circle, but Master Halv had said, “Patience, or the dot will become a puddle.”
So Juno waited. She counted triangle rays on the sun compass. She counted seven crooked constellations and two ringed planets. She even counted the squeaks in the orbit wheel: squeak, hush, squeak, hush. At last the ink dried with a papery whisper. Juno leaned in—and the blank full moon popped open like a biscuit tin. Inside sat a folded note and one sugared star candy. The note read: FOR THE FIRST PERSON WHO WAITS LONG ENOUGH. ALSO, PLEASE STOP COUNTING MY SQUEAKS.
Juno laughed so hard her silver dot landed perfectly in the middle. Far above, the orbit wheel gave one proud squeak. Next time you see the full moon on the chart, imagine a candy wrapper hidden where the ink had to quit shining.
