Astro and the Sleeping Stars

Astro was the biggest cadet at Space Academy. He was so tall his head nearly touched the ceiling, and his hands were as big as dinner plates. But he had a very soft heart.

Every night before bed, Astro would lean out of the porthole and count the stars.

"One," he'd say. "Two. Three..."

He could never count them all. There were too many. But he always tried.

One night, Astro was very tired. He'd been helping the engineers fix the engines all day, and his arms ached, and his eyes kept wanting to close.

"I'm too tired to count tonight," he said sadly.

Then something strange happened. The stars seemed to blink—one, two, three—in a little pattern, like they were saying hello.

"Oh!" said Astro. "You're counting too?"

The stars blinked again.

Astro smiled. He pressed his nose against the cool glass and watched the stars blink and glow. They were so peaceful out there in the dark. So quiet. So steady.

His eyes grew heavy.

"You'll watch over us, won't you?" he whispered.

The stars glowed soft and bright.

"That's what I thought," said Astro.

He climbed into his bunk, pulled his blanket up to his chin, and closed his eyes. Outside the porthole, the stars kept shining—patient and gentle and bright—watching over Space Academy and every cadet inside it.

They never go out, the stars. Not once. Not ever.

And that is a very good thing to know when you are closing your eyes.