Spaced Out

by Korissa Allen

  Spaced Out

  Spaced Out

  Korissa Allen

  © 2019 Korissa Allen

  Spaced Out

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Elm Hill, an imprint of Thomas Nelson. Elm Hill and Thomas Nelson are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

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  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2019953838

  ISBN 978-1-400328147 (Paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-400328154 (Hardbound)

  ISBN 978-1-400328161 (eBook)

  Information about External Hyperlinks in this ebook

  Please note that footnotes in this ebook may contain hyperlinks to external websites as part of bibliographic citations. These hyperlinks have not been activated by the publisher, who cannot verify the accuracy of these links beyond the date of publication.

  For Grandpa Norm and Uncle Barry,

  Thank you so much for all of your support and helping me with this project. I couldn’t have done it without you!

  Content

  Spaced Out

  “You mean to tell me that I can only get half for this? You told me yesterday that I would be able to get full price,” I tell the exchange clerk at the front desk. Trading is something I’ve learned to do over the years, and I’ve done many trades with him before. This trade, however, was very different from my previous trades. The object sitting in my hand was a one of a kind, Stoneard, very rare to this side of the galaxy.

  “Sorry, but my price has gone down,” the clerk says flatly. “Besides, I already have my gathering team out searching. I don’t need any more, especially something that small. I mean, who would buy that?” He says it as if I should be up on the economic policy of Stoneards.

  This is a huge setback. I have to pay off the debt I owe to so many people, and this would have paid for all of it, and I would still get to keep some for myself. I was holding up the line though, and I could tell the people behind me were getting restless.

  “Fine, I’ll just take my business elsewhere,” I retort, turning up my chin and walking to the front of the store, with the Stoneard in my hand. I quickly stuff it in my satchel so no one would know I have it. Even though stealing is illegal here, people do it all the time, and usually they don’t get caught. The government doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. I look at the Stoneard one more time before closing my satchel and the front door of the trading post.

  The story is, a long time ago, a diamond star exploded, sending tiny crystals all over the galaxy. A diamond star is one of the rarest stars in the entire galaxy, and they’re huge, bigger than entire planets. There are only about 100 of them left in the universe. If you find an entire star, you would get endless fame and fortune. They would name the star after you, and you would control anything within a two thousand-mile radius. The trick is, they’re hidden, and they explode often enough that finding one would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But once they explode, they aren’t completely useless. The contents from the explosion, Stoneards, are actually very valuable, but I wasn’t lucky enough to get a fortune from it. Instead of worrying about it though, I lift my head and trudge through the thick snow blanketing the city of Sacmuntas.

  Sacmuntas is the city where I was born eighteen years ago. My father left us to find a Stoneard but never returned. Nobody knows what happened to him. He left when I was eight and my younger brother only three. My mother still lives in the house I was born in, but I left six years ago in search of a Stoneard, like my father did. My mother was very upset when I decided to leave. She cried in her room late at night when she thought no one was listening. I felt bad, but I knew it would be best for my family.

  Sacmuntas is also the capital city of the planet Coreno. Coreno is one of the largest, most run-down planets on our side of the galaxy. The government here does nothing to help its citizens. I searched all over Coreno to find Stoneards, but I came up empty-handed, which I guess was no surprise. I traveled to the planet closest to us on the North side, Techario. Techario is known for its well-developed technology. It’s a smaller planet, but a lot of people go there for work. It’s not much of a living environment, due to a chemical breakout that occurred five years ago.

  I finally found a Stoneard on the far side of Techario. I brought it back to Coreno and discovered a trading shop about three miles from my house where my father used to trade. I brought the Stoneard to the trading shop and thought I would get a sack full of Stoneians, which are coins made from Stoneards that we use as money. But I didn’t get Stoneians, or anything for that matter, which isn’t what I was expecting. Now I have a Stoneard in my satchel, my feet hurt from trudging through snow, and I’m freezing in my thin winter coat. Coreno and Techario have alternating seasons, and I went to Techario in the middle of summer. Looking back, maybe I should have brought a thicker jacket for when I came back here. I decide that maybe I should just go home, surprise my mother, and see my brother again. I make my way to the cleared streets so walking home won’t be as treacherous.

  Off in the snowy distance, my small country home glows with light from the kitchen, and the window on the second floor above the front door is slightly ajar. My father tried fixing it when I was younger, but it never shut properly. The front porch swing is littered with snow, and the steps seem too icy to walk on. I begin to walk faster and faster, until I’m practically running, which considering the circumstances is pretty much impossible. Before I realize it, I stand in front of the door to my childhood house, the doorknob just in reach, and the heavy snow covering me like a blanket. Finally, I ring the doorbell.

  After a couple of seconds, I hear the shuffle of footsteps in the front entryway to the house. The doorknob slowly turns, and the door is being pulled away from me. My brother, who is taller and more muscular than the last time I saw him, appears in the doorway. He has a confused grin on his face that slowly disappears. We stand there, staring at each other for what seems like an eternity, until finally he utters the first words I’ve heard him say in six years.

  “Who are you?” He asks me like this is the determining factor for what he is going to say next. I blink a few times, caught off guard by his question. “Mother, there’s someone at the door.” He sounds panicked, like he’s afraid I might pull out a gun and start shooting. He twists his body but doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  I hear someone, probably my mother, start walking toward the door, the floorboards creaking with each step. She opens it a little farther, her glare stone-hard, and I almost scream. My father used to tell me that she could scare anyone off just by looking at them with something he liked to call “The Glare.” The moment before she came to the door, I thought she would’ve come out and hugged me and brought me inside the warm house I grew up in and take care of me again, like she did when I was younger. But then reality hits me in the face or, to be more accurate, the door.

  “What?” I ask myself out loud. She shut the door, and I’m still out here on the front porch, freezing. I press my ear against the doo
r, to see if I can hear anything. The good thing about the houses in my neighborhood is that all of the walls are paper-thin, and most conversations can be heard by anyone passing by. I used to hate it, but now I don’t mind it.

  It’s not hard to make out what they’re saying, but their voices are low enough that I have to strain to hear them. “Mother, who was that? Why didn’t you let her in? She’s pretty,” my brother was saying to my mother.

  “She’s nobody that concerns you. Just someone I used to know,” my mother says sympathetically. She uses the same voice that she used when we were little, the voice that would make her seem less scary, even though she was mad at us. I long for that voice to invite me inside.

  I can tell she has missed me and maybe didn’t want to shut the door. I realize then that some things are meant to be kept secret. She wants to talk to me, but not in front of my brother. I pace the patio before deciding to sit on the porch swing that has been here since I was little. The wind rocks me slowly back and forth, and I find myself kicking snow to pass the time.

  I wonder why my brother doesn’t know who I am. He was seven when I left, and most kids have developed memory retention skills before then. He should know who I am, but the blank look on his face when he opened the door told me he doesn’t.

  I hear the door creak open minutes later and I look over at it but don’t stand up. My mother walks out and turns her head to look at me.

  She takes slow, careful steps toward me, careful of the snow, careful of me. I see the look of terror in her eyes as she lifts her gaze to mine. I start to stand up, but I’m worried about what she will say.

  “I see you’ve returned,” she says briefly to me. “I don’t want your brother to know anything about you or why you’ve come back, understand? It would break his heart if he knew he had a sister but then she died, like your father.” I look at the ground. I don’t want to see the hurt in her eyes because I know I have caused her pain and loss in the past few years, and I feel guilty that I haven’t come back sooner.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” I start. “I wanted to help the family get out of debt. I didn’t bring any Stoneians back, because they wouldn’t trade for so little.”

  “Just promise me you will never leave us again,” she says, her words rushed and tearful. She turns on her heel and rushes to the door.

  “Just one question,” I say before she can disappear forever. “Why doesn’t he know who I am? He was seven when I left. He should remember me; I haven’t been gone that long.” She stops in the doorway, one arm on the frame as if that’s the only thing keeping her from crumbling to the ground in pain and agony. And maybe it is.

  She speaks so softly that I have to get closer to hear her. She doesn’t want my brother to hear. “We… I didn’t want him to know you, only to realize that he was going to lose you. I didn’t want him to feel the loss that I felt when I lost your father. So we went to the medical center, and… and… got the Procedure done, the one that makes you forget whatever you need to forget in life. I told the nurses that I didn’t want him to remember his father or sister. Normally, they don’t let kids fourteen and under get the Procedure done, but I told them it had to be done. They warned me that something could go wrong. He has no memories of you, or your father.”

  I remember them telling us in school that the Procedure can be given to those who want to have certain memories erased. They inject a purple liquid into your brain and can see all of your memories. Then they delete the ones you tell them to. It’s supposed to be for people who were in the war, but they use it pretty freely now.

  She’s crying now, the tears freezing to her cheeks. She doesn’t even make an attempt to wipe them away. That’s when I realize she wants me to see the pain she has had to suffer through. So I’ll know that she’s hurt. “Why didn’t you do the Procedure too?” I ask in a soft voice.

  “I wanted to be able to remember you, in case you came back. That’s how much hope I had,” she says without glancing back. “You should probably go. I don’t want to bring you into your brother’s life. It would be too confusing and…” Her voice trails off. I know why, she doesn’t want him to hate her for going through with the Procedure.

  I grab my satchel off of the swing. “I understand,” I say, my tone as cold as the day, and walk down the steps of my old house. I hear the door shut with a squeak and I walk faster. No use in staying around a place I know I’m not wanted.

  I walk down the road for what seems like miles. I’m getting nowhere, and my whole body is chilled to the bone. I just want a cup of hot chocolate, and maybe a heavier coat or even a blanket, I think. I don’t have much money left (four Stoneians that put a frown on my face). I could have had more, if they would have traded with me. The snow is starting to fall quickly, covering the ground and erasing the roads that were clear only moments before. Somehow, it gets even colder, which surprises me. Four Stoneians would get me a meal, if I was lucky.

  I lived in a quieter part of town. It was somewhat abandoned; our closest neighbor was one block away. There were houses around us that were once occupied, but everyone left when the houses became too expensive. Our house wasn’t really close to anything, except for a tiny restaurant at the end of the street. It was called Rosario’s and it always had warm food to eat. I start to head there until I see the light of the OPEN sign turned off. I sigh. Everything is closed, and it’s getting darker. With no sun to warm me up, I start to get even colder, which I thought was impossible. I wrap the jacket around me even tighter than before and shiver even more than I already had.

  All of a sudden, I hear footsteps behind me, soft but fast. I turn around on my heel, fast enough that I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash. I had learned some self-defense moves while I was on my mission to find the Stoneard. I’m about to kick the person behind me when I realize it’s my brother. He takes a step back, afraid that I’m going to hurt him. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I say in a gentle voice so I don’t scare him away.

  “It’s okay, I’m sorry I scared you,” he says back in a quiet voice.

  “Scared me? Please, you couldn’t hurt a fly,” I say in a joking tone. He just looks down at the ground. “So, why are you out here in this weather?” I ask, trying to change the subject. “It’s freezing out here. You should be inside.”

  He glances up at me. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says. “I didn’t get much of a chance. My mother says she used to know you. Who are you?” I don’t know what I should tell him. The truth? But my mother said she didn’t want to break his heart. I can tell he’s waiting for an answer, but I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. I need to respect my mother’s decision.

  “I’m just a friend of your mother’s. We haven’t talked in awhile. You probably don’t remember me. I’ve… been away… on business,” I tell him, my voice shaking. I don’t know why, but I can’t lie to him. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but I still remember all of the fun times we had together. I wish he could remember. Some of my favorite memories are from when he was little.

  One time, I remember it was bath night. I had already taken my shower and was about to get in bed when my mother called home and told me she would be home late that night and won’t be able to give my brother his bath. She told me that I needed to give it to him. Reluctantly, I searched the house, finding my brother downstairs playing with blocks and building a castle.

  “Kyle, it’s time for your bath,” I called out to him in a singsongy voice. He looked up at me but kept playing.

  “But mother isn’t home yet, and I don’t want to,” he said in a stubborn tone. I walked over to him, and in one quick, smooth motion, I picked him up and carried him upstairs to the bathtub that I already filled with warm, soapy water. The whole time he was kicking and screaming in my ear. I dropped him into the bathtub and grabbed a washcloth and some soap. I started to wash his face while he was trying to break free. But he was really clever. “I want a toy to play with. I’ll stop squir
ming when you get me a toy,” he said to me.

  “Okay,” I said and stood up. I walked out of the bathroom and down the hall to his room to find his favorite toy car. I heard a splash noise and thought, he’s just having fun, but when I got back to the bathroom, he was gone. Great, I lost my brother. My mother will kill me! I thought. Then I walked downstairs and found him in the living room, with soap in his hair. He looked over at me and grinned. I rolled my eyes and walked over to where he sat, playing with his blocks.

  “Come on, we’re almost done,” I told him. He stood up and walked up the stairs. I followed him as he got back into the tub. “You are one silly little boy.” He grinned at me with his toothy grin and went back to playing with his toy car.

  “Okay. I just wanted you to tell me the truth,” he says, now.

  “I am telling you the truth. I’m just an old friend of your family,” I say.

  “My mother lies to me all the time. I think I can tell when someone is lying,” he says back to me. Wow, I think. This kid is good.

  “Look, I’m just finding a place to stay for the night. I’d like to get back on my way,” I say sternly, my teeth chattering from the cold.

  “You can stay with us,” he tells me. “Under one condition, tell me the truth about who you are.” I can tell he’s taunting me. He’s still really clever. But I made a silent promise to my mother that I would protect him from the truth.

  “I am telling you the truth. But since you don’t believe me, I’ll just find my own place, on my own,” I say with defiance. I know I’ve won. There’s nothing he can say that will make me turn around and come back to my old home with him.

  “Fine, I just wanted to get to know my sister,” he says, and I know that he won. He knows it too. I stop, mid-step, and turn around.

  “What did you just say?” I let too much astonishment in my voice.