Years passed.
She studied mechanical engineering and later moved into aerospace systems.
She never became an astronaut, despite online captions eventually claiming she had.
She did work on components used in satellite research, which Caleb insisted made his Pluto advocacy historically important.
Nia told him Pluto still did not count as a planet.
Their argument survived adulthood.
The science-fair model survived too.
Anthony kept it on a shelf in the basement.
Dust accumulated on Jupiter.
Earth faded slightly.
Saturn’s ring leaned left again after several years.
During one Thanksgiving, Nia noticed it.
She took the model down.
Anthony entered the basement behind her.
“You fixing Saturn?”
Nia examined the ring.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“You spent half of junior year fighting that thing.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
“Maybe it wants to lean.”
Anthony shook his head.
“You finally gave up.”
“I matured.”
“Same thing with better marketing.”
She laughed.
The cracked section of the base remained visible.
Nia ran one finger along it.
For years, people had told her the damage made the model more powerful.
She disagreed slightly.
The damage was simply damage.
It did not need to become beautiful.
It could remain evidence that something happened and was repaired imperfectly.
That was enough.
Evergreen invited Nia back almost a decade after graduation for a STEM alumni day.
She hesitated.
Then Dr. Harris, nearing retirement, sent a personal email.
Come argue about scale with my current students. They think Mars should be six inches from Earth. Save them.
Nia accepted.
The multipurpose hall looked smaller than she remembered.
New tables.
New banners.
Same fluorescent lights.
A science fair was underway.
She walked past a Black sophomore displaying a homemade electric motor.
The device failed while she watched.
The student groaned.
His white teacher leaned over.
“What do you think happened?”
The boy explained that one connection was loose.
The teacher handed him a screwdriver.