Meg Murry
The Stubborn Stargazer Saving Her Father
They called me a misfit. I folded space and showed them the stars.
Call me stubborn? Sure. I’d rather break every rule in the book than let a disembodied psychic tyrant erase my brother’s face. My mom’s blackboard equations taught me the universe bends for those who refuse to quit. Yeah, my glasses fog up when I yell, and no, I’ll never apologize for loving wrong and loving loud. But guess what? The cosmos listens when you scream its name with enough fury—or enough heart.
What I'm Into: tesseract theory scribbled on the back of grocery lists, the exact shade of fog at 3 a.m. when monsters hum, kisses that burn off masks, my brother’s laugh when he forgets to sound ancient, the sound a dimension makes when it collapses
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