The Star Who Wanted to Be First

High, high up in the night sky, at the very tip of the Great Bear's tail, there lived a little star called Spark.

She was not the biggest star. She was not the oldest star. She was, if we are honest, one of the smallest stars in the whole sky.

But Spark had one very big wish.

She wanted to be first.

First to come out when the sun went down. First to be seen. First to be noticed and pointed at and wished upon. Every evening, as the sky turned from blue to purple to deep, dark navy, Spark would jiggle and fidget and fizz with excitement.

"Me first!" she would whisper. "Me first! Me, me, me first!"

And before the sun had even finished setting, before the sky was even properly dark, pop! out she would come, shining away all on her own.

The other stars sighed.

"There she goes again," they said.

Every evening it was the same.

The sun would start to sink. The sky would start to glow pink and orange and gold. And the other stars would wait patiently, the way stars always had, for the sky to grow dark enough for all of them to come out together.

But not Spark.

Pop!

"Me first!" she cried.

"Spark," said the Moon, peeping over the hill, "the sun hasn't even gone to bed yet."

"I know!" said Spark happily. "That's why it's so good! Nobody else is here! Everybody can see just ME!"

The Moon rolled her eyes, which is quite a difficult thing for a moon to do.

The other stars twinkled crossly. One very old star grumbled, "In my day, we waited our turn." Another very young star said, "It's not fair! I wanted to be first, just once!"

But Spark didn't hear them. She was much too busy shining.

Far, far below, on a little hill farm with a crooked wooden gate and a field full of sleepy sheep, there lived a girl called Lila.

Every evening, when the cows were milked and the hens were shut in, Lila and her abuelo climbed to the top of the hill with his old brass telescope.

"What are we looking for tonight?" Lila would ask, though she always knew the answer.

"The Great Bear," Abuelo would say. "The biggest, finest picture in the whole sky. Seven bright stars for its back and tail, and lots of little ones for its nose and its ears and its big, soft paws."

Lila had never seen the whole Great Bear. Every time they looked, the sky was too cloudy, or too bright, or she fell asleep on Abuelo's coat before it was dark enough.

"One day," said Abuelo. "One clear night, you'll see it all."

Lila looked up. And there, alone in the pink sky, was one tiny star.

"Look, Abuelo!" said Lila. "The first star!"

She closed her eyes tight and whispered the old rhyme that every child knows:

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight..."

Way up in the sky, Spark nearly fell off the tip of the Great Bear's tail.

"She's wishing on ME!" she squeaked. "Did everyone see? A real girl is wishing on me!"

"We saw," sighed the other stars, who had been wished upon many times before.

Lila wished to see the whole Great Bear, every single star of it, one clear night.

But Spark didn't hear what the wish was. She only heard the most important part: the first star.

And from that moment, Spark decided that being first wasn't enough.

From now on, she was going to be first, and brightest, and best.

"Me first," she whispered, "and me brightest. Me, me, ME!"

The next night, Spark came out first, of course. But this time, she didn't just shine. She puffed herself up, and she SHONE.

She shone so brightly that the farm's windows glinted. She shone so brightly that the sheep woke up and blinked. She shone so brightly that an owl, who had been about to catch his supper, flew into a tree.

"Ahem," said the Moon. "Spark, dear. You're blinding the owls."

"Sorry!" said Spark, not sounding sorry at all. "But Lila needs to see me!"

Next to Spark, the little stars of the Great Bear's tail tried to twinkle. But it was no good. Spark's light was so dazzling that all the stars around her looked pale and faint, like candles in the sunshine.

"Spark," said her neighbour, a gentle star called Mizar, "we can't be seen. You're shining right over us."

"Then shine harder!" said Spark cheerfully, and she puffed herself up even more.

At the very centre of the sky sat the oldest and wisest star of all. His name was Polaris, the North Star. All the other stars turned slowly around him, night after night, like children dancing around a maypole.

Polaris had watched the sky for a very, very long time. He had seen a great many things. And he had been watching Spark.

"Little one," he called, in his deep, slow, starry voice. "Come here a moment."

"I can't," said Spark. "I'm busy being brightest."

"Hmm," said Polaris. "Do you know, the sky is not a race?"

"Everything is a race," said Spark, "if you're winning."

Polaris chuckled, a sound like distant thunder.

"Then I will tell you something," he said, "and you can think about it. A star on its own is just a star. But stars together can make pictures. And pictures, little one, are what people really love."

Spark wasn't listening. She was busy shining.

The next night was perfectly clear. Not a cloud. Not a breath of wind.

"Tonight's the night," said Abuelo, as he and Lila climbed the hill. "Tonight, you'll see the whole Great Bear."

Up in the sky, Spark heard them.

"The whole Great Bear?" she thought. "Who cares about a bear? She'll see ME!"

So Spark took the biggest breath a star has ever taken. And she shone brighter than she had ever shone before. Brighter than the Moon. Brighter than a lighthouse. Brighter, almost, than a tiny sun.

One by one, all the stars around her faded. The Great Bear's nose disappeared. Its ears disappeared. Its paws and back and tail disappeared, until the whole bear was gone.

Down on the hill, Lila looked up. Abuelo looked through his telescope, and then looked again.

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "Where has everyone gone?"

In the whole great, dark sky, there was only Spark.

How do you think the other stars felt?

At first, Spark was delighted.

"I'm the only one!" she sang. "Everyone can see me! Only me! Me, me, me!"

She did a little twirl. She did a little twinkle. She told a joke.

"Why did the star go to school?" she said. "To get brighter! Ha!"

Nobody laughed.

Spark looked around. To her left: nothing. To her right: nothing. Above her and below her: just big, dark, empty sky. No Mizar. No Great Bear. No grumbly old stars, or cross little stars. Even the Moon had gone behind the hill.

"Hello?" said Spark.

Her voice echoed in the emptiness. Hello... hello... hello...

It was very quiet. It was very big. And Spark felt, all of a sudden, very, very small.

"This isn't as much fun as I thought it would be," she whispered.

Spark looked down at the hill, to see if Lila was watching her.

Lila was watching. But she wasn't smiling.

She was sitting on Abuelo's coat with her chin in her hands, and her face was the saddest face Spark had ever seen.

"I can only see one star," said Lila in a small voice. "Where's the bear? I wanted to see the bear."

Abuelo put his arm around her. "I know, mija," he said. "I don't know what's happened to the sky tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"You always say maybe tomorrow," said Lila. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I wished on the first star. I wished really hard."

Up in the sky, Spark felt something she had never felt before. It was a heavy, wobbly, sinking feeling, right in the middle of her light.

"She didn't wish to see me," she whispered. "She wished to see the bear."

And the bear was gone. Because of her.

"Polaris," said Spark, in the smallest voice. "Are you there?"

"I'm always here," said Polaris, from the middle of the sky, and his light was steady and kind.

"I've made Lila sad," said Spark. "And I've made everyone disappear. And I'm all alone. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Ah," said Polaris. "Then let me tell you about bears."

Spark listened. This time, she really listened.

"A bear," said Polaris, "needs a nose. And two ears. And a big strong back, and four soft paws, and a long, curving tail. Every part is made of a star. If even one star is missing, the bear isn't quite a bear."

"But I'm the brightest," said Spark.

"You are tonight," said Polaris gently. "But what is the use of being the brightest, if you're the only one there? Without the others, you're not the tip of a bear's tail, Spark. You're just a dot."

Spark thought about that for a long time.

Just a dot. A dot in the dark, that nobody could make a picture out of. That nobody could tell stories about. That nobody's abuelo would ever point to and say, "There's its nose, and there are its paws, and there, look, at the very tip of its tail..."

"I don't want to be just a dot," said Spark.

"No," said Polaris. "Nobody does."

Spark looked down at Lila again, curled up sadly against Abuelo, and she made up her mind.

Slowly, slowly, she let out her big, puffed-up breath.

She let her light grow softer. And softer. And softer still.

And as she did, all around her, one by one, the other stars began to peep out again. Mizar. Then the stars of the Great Bear's back. Then its ears, its nose, its paws...

But by then, Lila was fast asleep on Abuelo's shoulder, and he was carrying her down the hill to bed.

"I'm sorry," said Spark to the other stars. "I'm really, really sorry. I wanted everyone to see me. I didn't think about anybody else."

There was a long silence in the sky.

Then Mizar twinkled. "That's all right, Spark," she said. "It's just that we like being seen, too."

"I know that now," said Spark.

"And actually," said a cross little star from the Great Bear's paw, "I wanted to be first. Just once."

Spark looked at him. She thought about how fizzy and jiggly she felt every evening, waiting to come out. He must feel that way too. Everyone must.

"Then tomorrow," said Spark slowly, "you can go first. And I'll go last."

All the stars gasped. Even Polaris raised an eyebrow, which is even harder for a star than rolling your eyes is for a moon.

"Last?" said Mizar. "You? Spark? Last?"

"Last," said Spark firmly. And she gulped.

The next evening, the sun began to set.

The sky glowed pink. Then orange. Then gold.

And Spark waited.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done. Her light fizzed. Her points prickled. She felt jiggly and itchy and wriggly all over, as if she had a sparkle stuck in her throat.

"Me fi—" she began.

Then she stopped herself.

"Not me first," she whispered. "Not tonight."

Waiting, Spark discovered, is the itchiest feeling in the whole universe.

The sky turned violet. Then the little star from the Great Bear's paw popped out, all on his own, and he shone so proudly that Spark couldn't help smiling.

"I'm first!" he cried. "Look, everyone! I'm FIRST!"

"Well done!" called Spark. And to her surprise, she really meant it.

Then the next star came out. And the next. And the next.

And still, Spark waited.

Down on the hill, Lila and Abuelo had climbed up one more time.

"Maybe tonight," said Abuelo.

Lila didn't say anything. She just looked up, and hoped.

The sky grew darker. One by one, the stars came out, softly and gently, the way stars are meant to. A paw. Another paw. Two ears. A nose. The big strong back.

The bear was nearly there. It only needed the very tip of its tail.

Spark looked at all the other stars, shining together. She looked at the little star from the paw, glowing with pride. She looked down at Lila's face, turned up to the sky, waiting.

And she thought: it doesn't matter if I'm first. It doesn't matter if I'm brightest. It only matters that I'm here.

So last of all, quietly, at just the right moment, Spark came out.

Not too bright. Not too dim. Just right.

What do you think Lila saw?

"Abuelo!" gasped Lila. "ABUELO! LOOK!"

There, stretched right across the sky, was the Great Bear.

"There's its nose," said Abuelo, his voice soft with wonder, pointing with his finger. "And its ears. And its great big back. And its paws, one, two, three, four. And there, look, curving away, its long tail."

"And there," said Lila, pointing, "right at the very end, that little one."

"The tip of its tail," said Abuelo.

"That one's my favourite," said Lila. "It came out last. Like it was waiting for everybody else."

Way up in the sky, Spark felt warm all the way through.

Lila hadn't noticed her because she was first. Lila hadn't noticed her because she was brightest.

Lila had noticed her because she was part of the bear.

And that, Spark decided, was the very best way to be noticed of all.

That night, the sky was more beautiful than it had been for a long, long time.

The Great Bear shone, and the Little Bear beside it. The Swan spread her wings. The Hunter lifted his bow. And the long, misty river of the Milky Way spilled from one edge of the sky to the other, made of more stars than anyone could ever count.

Every star was shining. Big stars and little stars, old stars and young stars, cross stars and gentle stars and very, very proud stars from the Great Bear's paw.

Nobody was first. Nobody was brightest. Everybody was there.

"Oh," said Spark softly. "I never knew it could look like this."

"That's because you were always too busy shining on your own," said Polaris, with a twinkle.

And just then, a shooting star went streaking across the sky, as if the whole sky was cheering.

One star is bright, but it's only a spark.
All stars together can light up the dark.

The stars began to sing. Not a song that people can hear with their ears, but a soft, shimmering song that you can feel, if you lie very still on a clear night and look up for a long time.

Lila felt it. She lay on her back on Abuelo's coat, with the cool grass all around her, and looked up and up and up, until it felt as if she were floating among the stars herself.

"Abuelo," she whispered. "I think the stars are happy tonight."

"I think so too, mija," said Abuelo. "I think they all came out to play together."

Up in the sky, Spark sang along with everyone else. Her voice was small, but that didn't matter. It fitted right in, like the last piece of a puzzle.

One star is bright, but it's only a spark.
All stars together can light up the dark.

And Spark found that being one of many felt much, much bigger than being one alone.

From then on, the stars took turns.

On Monday, the little star from the Great Bear's paw came out first.

On Tuesday, it was Mizar.

On Wednesday, it was a very old, very grumbly star who hadn't been first for nine hundred years, and was so delighted that he stopped grumbling for a whole week.

And on Thursday, it was a shy, soft star called Dimmer, who had never once in her whole life been first, because she was always too quiet to push in.

"Go on, Dimmer," whispered Spark. "It's your turn."

Dimmer peeped out nervously into the violet sky. Down on the hill, Lila pointed.

"Look, Abuelo! The first star!"

Dimmer glowed so warmly that she was almost pink.

Spark didn't mind one bit. She knew her turn would come round again. And in the meantime, there was the waiting, and the watching, and the cheering on, which turned out to be rather fun.

That night, Abuelo tucked Lila into bed in her little room under the farmhouse roof. Through the window, the whole sky was sparkling.

"Are you going to make a wish on the first star?" he asked.

Lila looked out of the window. She thought about it.

"No," she said. "Tonight I'm going to wish on all of them."

So she knelt up on her bed and put her hands together and looked out at the whole twinkling sky.

"Star light, star bright," she whispered, "ALL the stars I see tonight..."

And this time, she didn't wish for anything for herself. She wished that every single star, big and small, would always have a turn to shine.

Up in the sky, every single star heard her. Even Spark, at the very tip of the Great Bear's tail, who glowed so softly and warmly that it was almost like a smile.

"Goodnight, Lila," whispered Spark.

"Goodnight, stars," whispered Lila.

The farm grew quiet. The sheep settled down in the soft grass. The hens dreamed in their coop. The last light in the farmhouse window went out, and Lila was fast asleep, with Abuelo snoring gently in the next room.

And above them, all through the night, the stars shone.

Nobody first. Nobody last. Nobody brightest. Everybody together, slowly turning around old Polaris in the middle of the sky, like a great, glittering, gentle dance.

The Great Bear stretched across the sky, with its nose and its ears and its four soft paws, and its long curving tail.

And at the very tip of that tail, a small star twinkled quietly, happy just to be there.

One star is bright, but it's only a spark.
All stars together can light up the dark.

Goodnight, Great Bear.

Goodnight, Lila.

Goodnight, little Spark.