Stellar

The last golden rays of the sun washed over Sarah’s red, wind-chilled skin between each house she passed. Wearily, she turned the last corner and allowed her momentum to take her into the parking lot of the old Taylor building on campus.

The foul odors of old fry grease and splattered ketchup on her Arctic Circle uniform followed her into the galley where the wifi was strong and food was allowed.

After plugging in her old Dell, she opened the word processor then leaned back in her chair to think. The chaos of the dining hall was a comfortable din for her as she sat in front of the lit screen, a textbook open beside her.

“Keep it simple,” Sarah told herself. She leaned forward and began to type. After ten minutes, she looked up, as the din suddenly seemed to echo around her again. She had lost herself in thoughts and words, as she was far too prone to do.

Looking back at the long excerpt she had written, she sighed. “Too stellar,” she said bitterly, clearing the screen.

“Stellar Keller!” A voice jeered in her mind. She had liked Garret, at least until he had begun to scoff over the oddity that she was, and the term was adopted by her whole sophomore class. A rather unflattering picture of her leading a debate against the state school board had appeared in the yearbook with the caption: “Stellar Keller—head in space with no feet on the ground.” They had defeated the arts-elimination proposal, but the nickname stuck.

Sarah pulled out a spoon and dug into the jar of off-brand, chunky peanut butter. Luckily, her mother had over-bought at a sale and Sarah was the beneficiary.

“Keep it simple,” Sarah said again and began to type.

Half an hour later, Sarah stood up and stretched. The paper was as dull as oatmeal, but it filled the requirements.

Looking forward to an overdue shower, she gathered her things. As she moved her textbook, a small black book was suddenly visible. Sarah stared at it for a moment before picking it up and turning it over in her hands. It had no markings or identification on the smooth cover, nor could she find anything written inside, but as she flipped through the pages, a hand-written note fell out. Sarah picked it up and read the words,

“To reach the stars, you must dream beyond this world.”

Sarah flipped the note over and saw the words, “It’s time to be Stellar.”

Sarah stared in disbelief. Flustered, she quickly packed her things and hurried back to her apartment.

Late that night, Sarah found herself sitting cross-legged on her bed, staring at the book and the note that now lay beside it. Was someone mocking her or encouraging her?

“Be stellar…” She said aloud, picking up the book. She shook her head then dropped the notebook into the bottom drawer of her nightstand.

____

Later that week, Sarah climbed off the city bus with a damp load of laundry and two bags of groceries. While laying out the wet clothes, she began to imagine the possibility of a machine that could both wash and dry without switching the load. By the time she hung the last shirt over the footboard of her bed, she had fully developed an idea for a three-barrel washer with the capability to drop the laundry into the dryer below once done with its load. She laughed at her silly idea. “Oh, Stellar Keller.” She said with a grimace.

Sarah’s eyes drifted towards her nightstand. She shrugged and wiped her wet hands on her faded jeans then reached for the bottom drawer. Pulling out the notebook, she diagramed the washer-dryer combo with a description of the different parts.

The game had begun. Sarah soon grew fond of her “Wonder Book,” as she called it.

The second entry detailed a fun marketing idea she had for candy bars. She had even had the audacity to email a major chocolate company, but they were certain that they did not want any unsolicited ideas. Still, Sarah enjoyed adding her thoughts to the notebook, and over the following few years, the entries grew to detail a wide variety of designs and projects.

After miraculously surviving a terrible wreck along a rural stretch of highway, Sarah added:

Entry 3: SafetyCatch—a hydraulic system to prevent over-correcting and reduce rollovers. She still struggled with PTSD from the accident.

The entries continued:

Entry 4: The Sky Ryder—a more versatile version of a helicopter with additional safety measures.

Entry 5: From the Sidelines—Lyrics and music by Sarah Keller

…

Entry 12: The Snake River Bike Trail—a bike trail from Jackson Hole, Wyoming to the Oregon Coast—perfect for ultra-marathons and other events to get people outdoors as well as building revenue for schools (part of which comes from the tourism industry.)

…

Entry 17: Cheeseburger Meatloaf—Recipe by Sarah Keller

…

Entry 23: Windshield Night Vision (Another wreck-inspired idea shortly after Sarah got too personal with a young bull elk.)

Perhaps the most unlikely, yet most desperate of her entries was:

Entry 76: Soni-CanCelled—Targeting cancer cells with the inverted frequency of the cells. Now, as a teacher in a small school district, Sarah had grown close to many of the other faculty and staff. Shortly into her third year there, her closest colleague, Amanda, had been diagnosed with anaplastic oligodendroglioma, a terminal brain tumor. The thought of her five young children, a devoted husband, and an entire community losing this wonderful woman ached almost too much to bear.

The notebook, now well-worn around the edges and smudged with ink, graphite, and dirt was Sarah’s favorite possession. It went everywhere with her—until late one evening, after returning home from a parent-teacher conference, Sarah curled up in her red, Minky Papasan chair and pulled her bag onto her lap. She dug into the side pocket for her notebook, but it was no longer there. Sarah realized, she couldn’t even remember seeing it at any point during the day.

After ransacking her apartment, Sarah drove out to the school. A thorough search revealed nothing but several masses of discarded assignments, broken pencils, and a mess of mouse droppings beneath an old heater.

Sarah felt absolutely heart-broken as she returned home. Hardly able to sleep, she rose early the next morning and retraced her steps of the previous few days, but no matter who she asked, the answer was always the same. No one had seen it.

Several long days passed before Sarah finally began to accept that the Wonder Book was gone for good. Unable to bear the thought of starting over, Sarah merely fell into a palsy of discouragement. Everything seemed a little more dreary—even the rusty sidewalks seemed more filthy than before and Sarah felt her lesson plans losing luster and creativity.

A heavy rainstorm passed through very early the next Saturday and Sarah awoke, startled by a bright flash of lightning and an ear-splitting crack of thunder. She tugged the covers back over her shoulders and rolled onto her side. A small blinking light on her phone caught her eye. Groggily, she reached over and turned on the screen. Squinting in the bright light, she saw a message from an unfamiliar number.

“Hi, Stellar Keller. You must have misplaced your notebook. It found its way back to me. If you can, come by my office tomorrow. I have something to discuss with you.” An address was included in a second message with a P.S., “Ask for the manager.”

A moment of relief turned into severe nausea. Sarah pulled the blankets up over her head. Someone had seen her foolish ideas—someone who had known Stellar Keller. She couldn’t bear the thought. She wished the notebook had never even been found.

After a long, hot shower, Sarah dressed and grabbed her umbrella before heading out on a long walk.

The lightning had passed but a steady rain poured down. Sarah checked her watch. It was barely 7:00, probably too early to meet the anonymous notebook thief. Still, she soon found her feet turning in the direction of the address listed in the message.

Rain-soaked, Sarah pushed open the door. A receptionist at the front desk glanced up.

“I would like to speak to the manager,” Sarah said, a little abruptly.

“I see,” said the woman. “And what is this regarding?”

Sarah grimaced. “It is in regards to a notebook.”

“Oh!” The woman smiled. “That’s you, then. Well, I’ll send you up. Take the elevator on your right to the fourth floor. The door to the manager’s office is at the very end of the hallway. I’ll let him know you are on your way up.

Sarah squelched her way across the lobby and pushed the button for the elevator. As she stepped out onto the fourth floor, her anger turned into dread once more. Slowly she made her way down the hallway and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” She heard a cheerful voice on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah pushed open the door.

A familiar face greeted her.

“Garret? Garret!” She said angrily.

Garret seemed a little abashed. “I know, Sarah. I can imagine that I’m not the person you would most like to see, but high school was so long ago. We were young. I was dumb.”

Sarah looked at him warily and a long silence followed.

Garret turned suddenly. “Your notebook! I have it here.” He picked up the familiar black book and turned back to Sarah, holding it out.

Sarah stepped forward quickly and took it from him. “Thank you, Garret.” She said uneasily. She turned to leave then hesitated. She looked back. “How did you know it was mine?”

“Well, I recognized it—and the note inside.”

Sarah turned fully around. “You left that for me?”

Garret shrugged. “I knew I had hurt you—and I was worried you would never allow yourself to discover your potential because of it.”

Sarah almost rolled her eyes. “So then why did you steal it back?

“Really, I didn’t,” Garret said, holding up his hands. “I know this may sound strange, but my little sister came across it and recognized the handwriting on the note. She wanted to ask me about it, but she forgot for a few days. Sorry you had to wait so long to get it back.”

“Yea, well, thank you for returning it,” Sarah said, a little stiffly. “Did you read it?”

“Well…” Garret shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I just couldn’t resist.”

Sarah groaned.

“But really! Please don’t be upset! I am so glad you made such good use of it.”

“Good use!” Sarah scowled. “I am now regretting having ever put any of these ridiculous ideas on paper!”

Garret shook his head. “First of all, I can’t believe you really feel that way. You obviously took great care in developing each of these ideas. Second of all, they are not ridiculous. In fact,” he said beckoning her to sit down, “I would like to make you an offer for Entry 47.”

“You’re not serious,” Sarah said uncertainly.

“I am absolutely serious! Here, take a look at this.” He held up a thin slip of paper.

Sarah approached the desk and took it from him. She looked up, shocked. “Garret, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am!” He laughed. That’s only the first advancement to see how well the idea sells—if you are willing to do business.”

The heavy rain clouds had passed by the time Sarah emerged into the morning light. In her arms, she clutched a small black notebook, inside of which were many strange and wonderful ideas, an old note, and a check for $20,000 made out to “Stellar Sarah Keller.”

Copyright: T.L. Cramer 2021