“Amari, put down that camera and eat something,” said Father. “Our tube to the starport is leaving in an hour, and I don’t want us to miss it because you’re still eating breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said. Mostly true. Between the excitement about traveling off-moon and my nerves about this project, my appetite was now a distant third.
“Huh?” Father did an exaggerated double-take. “The human-eating machine that used to be my fourteen-year-old son isn’t hungry. Are you sick?”
“No.” I didn’t look up, keeping my gaze on the viewfinder end of my CubeCam. “I’m just trying to get the perfect opening shot for my VidJournal. It’s due on the first day of school.” I panned my ‘Cam from my empty plate on the kitchen table, moving on to my little sister, Lulu, who was playing with her stuffed lion, then to my mother, placing food on a serving platter, and finally, Father. He was wearing a traditional Dashiki over his silver flight suit. Today, his tunic was embroidered in green, yellow, and maroon. When he noticed I was recording him, he beamed a wide grin and gave me two thumbs up.
“Don’t look directly at the camera.” I rolled my eyes. “Do you always have to be so goofy? Even though the title is How I Spent My Solstice Vacation, I don’t want it to look like a corny home vid. I’m trying for that artsy, hidden camera look.”
“But this was the part I read for in the script: Devilishly handsome but extraordinarily goofy father.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think I nailed it. What do you think, Lovey?”
Mother laughed. “Every day of our married life.”
I sighed and then dropped the camera on the table in frustration. It bounced a few times due to low lunar gravity. “Whatever. It’s not fair for Mr. Mahalah to have assigned us homework before freshman year starts?”
“Cruel and unusual punishment.” Father took off his wire-rimmed glasses and polished the lenses on his tunic. He could have gotten corneal upgrades, but he embraced his spectacles. They were a good look for him—since he’s a psychologist and a professor. Add with his goatee, it made him look intelligent. Sophisticated. I wish I was old enough for upgrades, but I had to wear my glasses—and they didn’t have the same effect on me. My specs completed that scrawny-zit-faced-dork look I’d been perfecting for years. Father wrinkled his brows so they resembled actual question marks. “I agree. Why would any sane person want to learn outside of school?”
“I dunno,” I said. “But I need something better for my intro than my boring family in our boring kitchen.”
“Well . . ..” Father scratched his shaved head and held up a finger to punctuate his idea. “I know. I’ll grab my marimba and play a traditional folk tune, and your mother can sing.”
Mother was also in her silver traveling jumpsuit, but she wore a brightly colored head scarf. It waved back and forth as she shook her head. “Oh no.” She laughed. “No one wants to hear me sing.” She walked to the table and deposited a plate of assorted breakfast foods.
“I wanna sing too!” shouted Lulu. “Papa, play my favorite.”
“I’ll play anything you want, pumpkin,” said Father. He walked over to the table and grabbed a barley and nut bar and a yogurt pouch from the platter.
“No, Father. She’ll ruin it,” I said.
Lulu got up and started singing as she skipped around the table. “Jackie ‘n’ June walked all over the moon, to fetch—”
“C’mon!” Since Father was no help, I turned to my mother. “I can’t have her singing on this. Mr. Mahalah will fail me for sure.”
“Amari’s gonna fa-il,” said Lulu, continuing in her sing-song voice. She wore her silver school jumpsuit, with a patch on the shoulder that read M. C. J. Elementary School. An array of six jet-black pigtails bobbed wildly about her head, each braided with multi-colored beads. “Amari’s gonna—”
“This is for school.” I gestured to my CubeCam. “Lulu, can you just shut up.”
“Amari said shut up,” taunted Lulu.
“Amari! Language. Now you hush, Lulu.” Mother tried to look serious with her ‘I’m scolding you’ look. But she could never keep her bright smile hidden for long. She flashed it, winked at me, and headed back to the kitchen counter to make some tea.
“She is so annoying,” I said. “If my baby sister is the first thing everyone hears on my vid, Finn and D’Andre will torture me.”
Mother stopped steeping her pouch. “Are those two delinquents still causing trouble? We can meet with your principal again if—”
“It’s fine—better than before. I mean, they don’t beat me up or anything. They just call me ‘loser’ and ‘dweeb.’ Oh, yeah. Don’t forget ‘Astro-nerd.’ That’s their favorite.” I turned to stare at the reflective lens surface of the Cube Cam. “Yeah. That’s it.” I snorted. “I know how I’m gonna start.”
I activated the CubeCam, flipped the point-of-view so it was recording me and then pinched my nose shut to mimic the voice of my science teacher, Mr. Cloutier. He talked like he was always fighting off a cold. I cleared my throat dramatically. “Here is the prime example, class, of Astro-Nerd, or Nerdus Astronimus. A subtype of the species Nerdus Maximus, note the dorky glasses and bad skin exhibited by this male of the species. Let’s see what nerdy things he did over vacation!”
“You are not a nerd or, uh, a dweeb. You’re going through adolescence like all young men.” Father narrowed his eyes, assessing my skin. “Are you washing your face with that cream the doctor gave you? Maybe if you used it more, then—”
“Can we please skip the hygiene lecture?” I fought the urge to roll my eyes—and won. He hated it when I did that. If I even lifted an eyebrow, I would still get the speech on proper skincare and then get one on respect for parents, teachers, and probably the entire Lunar Council. I shook my head and punched the delete button on my camera, erasing that last bit.
“Yes, we can,” said Mother.
“Thank you.” I pointed to Lulu. “Now, do we have to take her?”
“Yes, we do,” said Father. “You may be filming your school vid, but it’s our family vacation.”
“Well, I don’t want to sit next to her,” I said. “She’s a brat.”
Lulu grabbed a mandazi and flipped it up in the air. It spun in the low gravity, and she tried to bite it. She missed, and it sailed over her head. “Mama,” said Lulu. “Amari called me—”
“Both of you—hush. You’ll sit in your assigned seats. Lulu, stop annoying your brother. And you—” Mother turned to me. “Ignore her. Now eat something. It’s a long ride to the starport.”
“Okay,” Lulu and I said in stereo.
“Pass the mandazi.” I gestured toward Lulu. She grabbed the floating pastry and nibbled at it. She pushed the platter toward me, and I grabbed one.
“So,” said Father in an amused tone. “First, you’re not hungry. Now you want a doughnut? Will I ever understand teenagers?”
“What can I say, Father.” I shrugged and bit into one of my mother’s homemade pastries. “We’re complicated.” I licked the sugar from my lips and then popped the rest of it in my mouth.
“Complicated doesn’t describe the half of it,” said Father. “The teenaged mind is—”
“—an impenetrable black box, full of hormones and hyperbole,” said Mother, finishing one of Father’s favorite comments. “We know, dear.”
“It’s true. And although I wrote that in my dissertation on adolescent psychology, I still struggle to understand my own son.”
“Hey, Papa,” said Lulu. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sweetie, right now I do. But don’t worry, before you can say ‘raging hormones,’ you will be as big a mystery as your brother.”
She flipped her mandazi again and tried to bite it. “What are raging—?”
“Never mind,” said Father.
My stomach rumbled, and I reached for another pastry.
“And no more mandazi for you.” Mother scooped up the last mandazi on the platter. “One is a treat, but if you fill up on them, they’ll make a surprise reentry after liftoff, if you know what I mean.”
“No thanks.” I reached for a barley and nut bar. “I have to believe that barfing in zero-g would suck.”
“Amari said—” tattled Lulu
“Uh-uh-uh,” said Mother. “Language, please.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Can I have tea with my bar? Will that be okay?”
“Yes.” Mother handed me a hot pouch of tea. “Now finish up. We leave for the tube in half an hour.”
“There was a protest at the launch site about using government funds for space travel. I can still see them.” I spoke into my CubeCam to narrate for my VidJournal. I panned to show the protestors outside our boarding area. They waved signs declaring SPEND DOLLARS AT HOME and SPACE TRAVEL DOESN’T MAKE CENTS.
“Security was intense because of those demonstrators. That’s why the dudes from SSA had to empty out all our luggage. I got chromosome mapped—again. They also did retina printing to confirm my identity. Again. After that, they randomly pulled me aside for a strip search down to my underwear.
“‘Do I have to?’ I asked the biggest dude from Starport Security. ‘Only if you want to get on the shuttle,’ he said, without humor. Mother had drilled into me since I was old enough to dress myself: make sure there are no holes in your undies. Now I know why. But hey, me and my briefs must have passed inspection ‘cause he let me board. “Phew!” I swiped a hand across my forehead. “Good thing, since we’re blasting off at noon.”
“Our launch was delayed.” I was narrating again, determined to record every bit of our trip. Sure, it was homework, but this recording was also for me. Will I ever make it back into space? I hoped I would, but who knew?
“I see our shuttle: The S. S. George Custer. It’s one of the biggest in the fleet, but Lulu keeps calling it the S. S. George Jetson. She loved those old-style 2-D Earth cartoons, and The Jetsons was her favorite.” I panned to show the shuttle’s base—its tail fins and thrusters supporting it on the launch pad. I continued to the midsection—dotted with escape pods—and finally to the pointed nosecone, which held the pilots. A tube connected to the midsection where we would board.
“Look at the sweet curves of those fins. And man-o-man, check out her jets. Sleek but so powerful. Her engines are warming up now. A low hum. But soon, they’ll be singing—no, screaming out loud. Isn’t she the coolest thing? Ever?
“If you guys think I’m weird, stick it—” I looked into one of the camera’s lenses. “Sorry, Mr. Mahalah. Not you. I was talking to D’Andre and Fynn. I’m sure they’re making fun of me right now. I don’t care. They like jumpball. I like spaceships. Father said my name means ‘strength,’ so I am gonna be strong and ignore them. Anyway, I’m on a shuttle to orbit the Earth, and they’re at home watching holos.
“Why is the ship all covered with bumps?” Lulu giggled and pointed at the many spherical outcroppings that dotted the fuselage. “Does the George Jetson have moon pox?”
“Pause.” I stopped my narration and turned to Father. “Dad, I’m recording this for school. Do I really have to sit next to her? She’s gonna be asking stupid questions the whole time.”
“Amari! Language,” said Mother.
“Yes, you do,” said Father. “Now, apologize to your sister.”
“Sorry, Lulu.” I dipped my head.
“I think you are lucky to have your sister next to you.” Father raised an eyebrow. “You are the family expert on the shuttle, and with you next to her, you can be her teacher and make this trip educational.”
“Yes, Father.” I turned to Lulu. “Start recording. Yes, Lulu, I guess they do look like moonpox, but they are escape pods. There is a spot for everyone on the shuttle—and a few extra. Just in case.”
“Ooh, that makes me nervous,” said Mother.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ve studied the safety specs. This shuttle has made over 100 trips around the Earth without anyone getting so much as a bloody nose. And the pilots have, like, a million hours of experience. The cabin is so solid they say it might even withstand a meteor strike. You have a greater chance of getting into an accident on the tube ride here than on a trip around the Earth. Don’t be such a worry-monger.”
“I’m buckled in. Strapped down. Ready to blast off.” The image panned from my face to my silver travel suit and the crisscross shoulder harness. I tilted the camera to show Lulu strapped in next to me.
“I’m bored,” said Lulu.
“Lulu—” I gritted my teeth, then forced my jaw to relax. “Just wait a little longer. Space is going to be way cool.”
“Here, honey.” Mother caressed Lulu’s hair and gave her a pouch of animal crackers, and she stopped whining.
“And it’s important to know where we came from,” added Father. “Lulu, tell me about the astronaut your school is named for?”
“Mae C. Jemison,” said Lulu through a mouthful of cookies. “She was an astronaut! And an engineer—although I’m not sure what that is. And a doctor. She took care of people in Africa. On Earth. Auntie Jameelah was born in Africa, Papa. Did she know her?”
Father chuckled. “No, sweetie. My auntie is old, but Dr. Jemison died over a hundred years ago. So many of our people from Africa—as well as others from the rest of Earth—did not make it to the moon. Humanity must understand and cherish our second chance. And it’s all because of explorers like Dr. Jemison. Now listen up, kids: the crew is giving instructions.”
“—your harness secured while in your seat to avoid floating into the aisle.” A crew member stood a few rows in front of us. “In the event of cabin depressurization, a helmet will drop down. Please secure your helmet to your flight suit before helping those around you. And remember, your escape pod may be behind you, so—”
I panned my CubeCam out the viewportal. The bubbles of our colony spread out across the lunar surface. I spoke into the CubeCam’s mic to be louder than the safety instructions. “This dude is going on and on, talking about helmet-to-helmet communication and how to access the pods, but I know all that. This will be my last entry until after liftoff.” I grinned at the camera. “I’ll VJ some more when we can reactivate our electronics. See you in space.”
“How can I describe it? Something so mind-blowing as blasting off from the moon?” I panned through the shuttle’s viewportal to show a panorama of stars floating by, the moon in the background.
“Let me try.” I looked directly into my CubeCam. “Although the temperature in the cabin was cool, my palms were sweaty. The nitrogen/oxygen mix that filled our cabin smelled like that hand sanitizer we use in class but way stronger. Cleaner. I think the air mixture is richer in O2 than lunar-typical because it made my head fuzzy when I took a deep breath. There was still the hum of the engines—but as we got closer to liftoff, it intensified until my teeth buzzed.
“So, I’m buckled in and staring at the seat in front of me. I can see the tops of everyone’s heads and, of course, the door to the nosecone at the top. The cabin crew, also strapped in around us, began the countdown. And all of us space tourists counted along. Finally, we got to ‘zero,’ and the entire cabin cheered. It was kind of cheesy, but fun, too. I had built this day up so much in my mind. I knew the launch wouldn’t suck, but would it be as totally amazing as I imagined?
“And that’s when the thrusters kicked in. The hum from the engines intensified, and it was amazing to the 100th power. That hum turned into a rumble, and the rumble became a roar as we were boosted off the lunar surface. And was that the sweetest thing ever? Oh yeah. Even Lulu loved it. She squeezed my hand at first, a little nervous, but then she squealed with delight. I squeezed her hand back, and we both shouted: Booyah!” Maybe she is not so annoying after all?
I turned to record the scene out of my viewport. The moon dwindled in size, and I panned to show the lunar space station approaching.
“As the thrust from the engines pushed us further from the moon, a spot behind my belly button pulled downward as the ship increased its acceleration, the g-forces building. It probably wasn’t bad for old people like my parents and you, Mr. Mahalah. Do you remember full-Earth gravity? We were only lifting off against the weak pull of the moon, but for lunar babies like me, it was the monster of all head rushes. I thought that my body might explode. Or implode. Or ‘uber-plode,’ if that’s a word. But I didn’t care. It was the coolest. I didn’t want it to stop. Ever.
“Still not getting my ultimate cool-phoria? Imagine: after watching her from a distance, you get up your courage to ask out that girl who sits next to you in class. You ask her to the holos—and she says yes. And at the end of the date, when you’re trying to get up the nerve, she leans in and kisses you.” I flipped the point of view to face me and spoke into the mic. “That never happened, by the way. But if it did, that is how amazing I feel right now.”
I flipped it back and resumed recording the star-studded void of outer space. “Mr. Mahalah, you know people say we need to focus on the moon and forget about space?’ Our bubble, The Colony of Good Hope, is important. And we have to take care of it. But there is so much more out there. Space is freaking incredible! How can we ignore the stars around us? Looking up from the moon—they’re just pinpoints of light. But looking down from space, we are the speck in this vast blackness.
“Wow. I just played that back.” Point-of-view facing me, I spoke directly into the camera. “I had better have the flight attendant check the O-flow to my seat to make sure I’m not getting too much oxygen. Or maybe it’s a side effect from that total body rush at liftoff.” I made the crazy-loco gesture, twirling my index finger by my ear. “Sorry if I sounded goofy.”
I focused on Lulu, trying to bounce up and down while harnessed in her seat. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,’ I said.” I pointed my CubeCam out of the viewportal and narrated. “I can see it. Earth!” A dull, sad-looking planet came into view. Looming in front of us like a battered, brown jumpball. “I hope we’ll get closer. I wish we could land, but Father said there are no terrestrial expeditions for tourists—yet.
“Look, Lulu. Our orbit is taking us over the dark side now, so soon we’ll see—”
A tooth-rattling boom drowned out all other sounds.
Blackness in the cabin, and I dropped the CubeCam. It landed on my knees.
“What was that, Father?” I said.
“I don’t know.”
Red emergency lighting on the cabin’s floor and roof was the primary source of illumination. The crying and wailing upset my sister even more than the loud noise.
“Shh, Lulu. Everything is all right. I’m here, and so are Papa and Mama. It was just a loud noise. There’s nothing to—”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Captain Louise Dumont.” She had a French accent and pronounced this as zis. But she sounded calm.
“We’ve run into . . . a slight problem,” said the captain. “But we’re doing our best to get things under control. In the meantime, please follow the flight crew’s instructions and secure your pressurized helmets. This is purely a precaution. We’ll keep you notified as we know more. Dumont out.”
More jumbled voices and muffled prayers from the passengers:
“Hey, what’s going—?”
“Was that an explosion?”
“Hail Mary, full of grace—”
“Well, something is going on,” said Father, reaching over Mother to Lulu. “I’m not sure what. But while they work on it, let’s secure your helmet—”
“Sir, you should really secure your own—” said a crewman.
“Like Hell, I will. It’s okay, Lulu. Don’t cry, sweetie. You’ll use up your oxygen faster,” said Father.
“I’ll help her, Father.” I had already secured my helmet and leaned over to help my sister. The CubeCam was about to tumble from my lap, so I grabbed it and shoved it into my pocket.
An alarm blared, its alternating scream and wail now muffled by our helmets. The glow from the emergency lights tinted everything blood red. I switched my helmet comm from our family channel to a private one and pinged my father.
“Are we going to crash?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice, but it was hard.
“No, son. We’ll be fine.”
“But what if we do? There is not much atmosphere on Earth anymore. Can we survive?”
“We-we’ll be okay. The captain and her crew are skilled astronauts. Actually, weren’t you saying that just this morning? Now, hold Lulu’s hand. I’ll go forward. See if I can get some answers.” He lowered his voice, muttering, “This seems like more than a ‘slight problem.’”
“Father, don’t—”
He switched his comm to our family channel. “Lovey, Amari, Lulu. I’ll be back in a minute.” His tone was firm.
“Dear? No. Just stay—” said Mother.
“I’ve got to find out what’s happening,” said Father. “I’ll be right back.”
“Jamal,” said Mother. “I don’t—”
“I’ll be right back.” He tapped his helmet to hers. I couldn’t hear what he said. Then he tapped his helmet to mine. “Until then, Amari, take care of your mother and sister.”
“Yes, Father. I will.”
He shot me a wink, unbuckled his harness, and floated into the aisle. He grabbed seatback after seatback, pulling himself toward the cockpit.
I switched my comm to the general channel to pick up all the chatter in the cabin. The jumble of questions and prayers was louder than the thrusters had been at liftoff. Then the craft shuddered again, and the red emergency lights winked out. The cabin was plunged into total blackness. The swell of voices stopped. As we sat in the dark, murmurs of what, why, and how mixed with whimpering and more prayers gradually broke the silence.
“Papa!” screamed Lulu.
“It’s okay, Lulu,” I said in a soothing tone. “He’ll be back in a minute. Don’t be afraid. Let’s sing a song. How about Jackie and June?”
Lulu squeezed my hand tighter.
‘Okay. Jackie and June walked all over the moon,” I sang. “To fetch a tank of—”
“I wanna go home,” Lulu whined.
“This is Captain Dumont. As a precaution, all passengers must enter their assigned escape pod. If you cannot reach your pod, find the nearest pod. Please release your harnesses and pull your way by the hand holds in an orderly fashion. Again. This is just a precaution. I will inform you when it is safe to return to your seats if I do not deploy the pods. Dumont out.”
“Just keep holding my hand, Lulu,” I said. “We are going to float. Now grab the handhold. Everything will—”
“The pod door—it’s jammed.” A man was banging against the escape hatch door. “It won’t open! Why won’t it open? We’re all going to die!”
Lulu started crying again.
More people pressed in against the panicked man, clawing at the pod door, but it did not budge.
“Mother. Lulu. This way.” I pointed behind us. “The pods won’t open if the pod has been compromised. There are plenty of extra pods. Let’s try the next pod behind us.”
“Jamal?” Mother cried. “We have to get to a pod. Where are you?”
“Papa!” cried Lulu.
“I’m okay,” Father said via his comm. “But I can’t get back to you. I’ll get in a pod up here. We’ll probably just sit in them for a bit until—”
Father’s words were cut off as the comms went dead. I grabbed Mother and Lulu’s hands and gestured with my head toward an aft pod.
Mother nodded and pulled herself toward the now open hatch.
Lulu was bawling.
I touched my helmet to hers so sound vibrations would transmit from my helmet to hers. “Lulu? Lulu!” She looked at me and stopped crying, at least for the moment. I had her attention. “Lulu, I’ll be Jackie, and you can be June. And we are going to go hand in hand to do what?”
“Fetch a tank,” Lulu said.
“That’s right,” I said. “A tank of what?”
“Water?” she whimpered.
“Right again. So come with me.” I pulled her toward the open hatch. Our helmets broke contact as I guided her into the escape pod. “Papa will be okay,” I said. With the comm down, Lulu couldn’t hear me since our helmets were not touching. No matter. I spoke those words of reassurance for myself. “He’s in another pod. We’ll see him soon.”
We passed through the escape hatch. Lulu and I were now both inside the pod. I saw Mother, who directed Lulu to one of the open spots near her. Mother grabbed Lulu and pulled her into the seat. Amber lights glowed, bathing everyone inside in a sickly yellow. Mother and I worked on securing Lulu’s safety harness.
Mother pointed to an open seat next to Lulu for me.
I gave her the okay sign.
I grabbed the arms of the chair, and then suddenly, the portal that connected our pod to the shuttle whooshed closed. The amber light flamed red, and with a sudden jerk, the pod was thrust away from the shuttle with tremendous force. I was thrown against the near wall of the pod, and the red lights in the escape pod faded to black.
Blackness.
Noise. Maybe Voices.
Back to blackness.
Blackness.
I opened my eyes.
Something bright. A light? Or Mother’s smile.
My head buzzed, and then swam.
Back to blackness.
Blackness.
More Voices.
“He needs to rest.” Maybe Mother. But other voices mixed in.
“Just wanted to let him know—” One deeper than the rest, but not Father. Is that my teacher?
I opened my eyes. “Mr. Mahalah?” My voice croaked. A pillow cradled my head, and cool sheets covered my lower half.
“Amari? You’re awake!” Not my English teacher’s voice. Warm. Sweet. Honey in hot tea. I know that voice: Hanna. She sat next to me all last year. She was always kind to me—especially when Fynn and D’Andre weren’t.
Feels like I’m in bed. Oh, man. My hair—it must be a mess. I lifted a hand to smooth it, but my strength failed, and it dropped beside me. Hanna—yes, it was Hanna— grabbed my hand in her hands, and I savored the soft warmth of her skin. I must have been smiling like a fool because my face hurt. Ooh boy. Everything hurt. Did I die? Maybe so, but hearing Hanna’s voice, at least I’d gone to heaven.
“Hey, astro-nerd—” A male voice.
I know that voice. Not heaven. Farther south if the voice belonged to who I thought.
“C’mon, Fynn,” said a different male voice. “Be cool.”
“Sorry. I meant: Hey, Amari—you okay, uh, buddy?”
Buddy? I opened my eyes. To one side was Hanna—I was right. She has the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Mr. Mahalah behind her. I turned my head to the other side, and there sat my lifelong tormentors—wisecracking Fynn with his floating dreadlocks. He always had a new and different way of making me feel stupid. And beside him was D’Andre, his musclebound sidekick who loved digging his elbow into my chest. They’re here to see me? But why? And where am I?
“The nurse said he needs rest.” Mother’s voice. I tried to find her, but my head was too heavy. “It was so nice of you, Tomas, and the children to come to Tranquility, but—”
Nurse? Tranquility? I’m at Tranquility Hospital? What happened?
“We won’t stay long,” said Mr. Mahalah. “But after the kids watched Amari’s VidJournal that you sent—”
VidJournal? Did I finish it? I was recording it on the shuttle trip, and—what? I can’t remember—
“He was so happy, making this journal, Tomas. And since the first week of school had already passed,” said Mother. “You know how he is about turning in homework on time.”
I missed the first week?
“I do,” said Mr. Mahalah with a soft laugh. Then, more serious: “How’s your daughter?”
“She was discharged a few days ago, so she’s home—with her auntie. She’s doing—” Mother sniffed. “As well as can be expected.”
“And how’s—?” asked Mr Mahalah.
“Amari needs to rest,” said Mother in a quick, clipped tone. “So, if you don’t mind?”
“We’ll leave,” said my teacher. “The boys and Hanna just wanted to say something.”
“We watched your VJ, man.” D’Andre was looking right at me. “On the shuttle. We just wanted to say that you’re one brave dude—”
Are my ears working? Is this for real?
“Real brave,” echoed Fynn. “Getting your mom and sister to the pod. And we just wanted to say, uh, sorry. Sorry about all the dumb names we’ve called you. We’re the dorks, not you. Are we cool, Amari?”
“Um, sure,” I croaked, still not sure what was happening. “Thanks, uh, dork.”
“Amari!” said Mother. “Language.”
“It’s alright,” said D’Andre with a laugh. “I deserve it—times a million.”
Fynn nodded along with D’Andre.
“One thing, Amari. How did you know that pod was compromised? It was—by the way.” Mr. Mahalah looked over to Mother, who nodded. “Your Mother said they learned that from the wreckage that was recovered. But how did you know? If you didn’t direct your family to the next pod—”
Mother’s face tightened into a wince.
“I guess sometimes it’s good to be an Astro-nerd,” I croaked.
“I suppose so,” said Mr. Mahalah.
“I have something I wanted to say, too,” said Hanna. “But in private?” She squeezed my hand.
Huh? I’m not sure why she was doing this, but I didn’t want her to stop.
“We’ll wait outside, Hanna,” said Mother. “Two minutes.”
The door whooshed open and then closed.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Hanna. She looked down at me through her dark bangs. “Over vacation, when you asked me to the holos—you were so sweet. And I wanted to go, but I couldn’t. I had a family thing. I wanted to explain, but you’d have thought I was making it up. Maybe we can go when you’re better?”
I squeezed her hand, or at least I think I did. My body was so weak. “Th-that’d be cool.” The door whooshed open, but now I didn’t care who walked in. It’s even better if I have a witness to the prettiest girl in the school asking me out.
“Great,” said Hanna. “So I can come back tomorrow?”
“S-sure,” I stuttered.
“Feel better.” She leaned in and kissed my forehead.
I realized my palm had been sweating as it went all cool when she let go. She got up and left the room. If this was a drug-induced hallucination, I made a mental note to ask the nurse for two more doses of this same stuff later on.
“See you tomorrow, dear.” My mother said to Hanna and then turned to me. “Amari? Are you okay?”
“I have no idea.” I blinked my eyes twice and focused on her with a clarity I didn’t have fifteen minutes ago. “Mother, what happened? I remember being on the shuttle recording my journal. But then something happened.”
“There was an accident,” She hesitated. “They recovered the black box recorder. Our shuttle was struck by an asteroid. A glancing blow. Many of the pods were ripped off. But if that asteroid had hit us squarely—oh. I can’t think about that. What’s important is that you are awake. And you’re going to be okay.”
I blew out a breath and then tensed. “Hey, where’s Father? You said Lulu is home with Auntie, so if he’s not home, where—”
“Aunt Jameelah is staying with us for a few days,” said Mother. She looked away. “Don’t worry. Your sister is fine. And you’ll be home, too, just as soon—”
“Where. Is. Father.” I bit off each word. My mind raced. I remembered so very little. My heart beat fast in my chest, and that sweaty feeling from my palm spread throughout my body. “Please, Mother, tell me.”
“He’s—” She was looking far away now. Out the viewport of the hospital window, at the giant crater that gave the hospital its name. She turned back and locked eyes with me. “He’s in intensive care, Amari. His pod never deployed. He was hurt. Very, very bad. The doctors aren’t, uh, sure, um—”
“Can I see him?” I tried to push myself up and got halfway there before falling back down.
“You’re not strong enough—”
“Oh, but I am.” I propped myself up on my elbow. I’m sure I was flushed from the exertion, but I stayed up. “I want to—I need to see him.”
“I don’t know.” She wrinkled her brow. “Maybe tomorrow. Today is the first day you’ve been awake more than a few minutes.”
“Can you ask the nurse, then? About tomorrow?” I pleaded with my eyes. “I felt stronger when Hanna held my hand. Now I want to hold his. To let him know—” I swallowed, but my mouth was so dry I had a hard time forming words. “To let him know that I love him. And that I’ll take care of you and Lulu until he’s better. Until he’s home. Please?”
“I will, dear.”
“Thanks, Mother.” I eased back down, panting from the effort. “And can you bring in my CubeCam tomorrow? I need to record an epilogue for my journal. With Father.”
“But I already handed it. And—” Mother furrowed her brow. “Your father isn’t awake yet.”
“I know,” I said. “But when he is, I want to record him smiling, looking right into the camera, and giving me two big thumbs up.”
“He would love that.” She stroked my forehead to soothe me, and the creases in her forehead relaxed.
“Yeah.” I tried to match her bright, optimistic smile, and I think I came close. “I’m sure that would be the perfect ending.”
