Life on Mars

by Jennifer Brown

  I opened my eyes to see that it was my dad holding me, and just like that I was totally spent. I dropped the stick and went limp, letting my face fall onto my dad’s chest, not even caring that if anyone from Liberty Middle caught me being held by my dad while crying my eyes out it would mean a lifetime of torment and finding my underwear yanked up between my eyebrows on a daily basis.

  “Arty, Arty, what’s the matter?” Dad asked, lowering both of us to the ground next to the smashed bits of Huey.

  “Let’s just move,” I bellowed into my dad’s shirt. “Let’s just finish packing and move.”

  31

  The Unexpected Solar Flare of Love

  For the next two weeks, we packed nonstop. Our closets were emptied, our cabinets bare. What was left was placed into suitcases to take on our long road trip to Nevada. I even helped this time, diligently wrapping things in brown paper and laying them out in boxes, taping the boxes shut and labeling them in magic marker:

  KITCHEN

  ARTY’S ROOM

  VEGA’S BATHROOM: WARNING!

  THIS BOX IS FULL OF SCARY GIRL STUFF!

  A For Sale sign appeared in our front yard, and some guy in a pickup truck came and pulled Cassi’s swing set out of our backyard and hauled it away. Comet stood at the front door and watched and I could swear I saw a doggy tear in his eye. A moving van pulled up to our curb and we spent a whole day filling it with furniture and boxes—everything that belonged to the Chambers family, stuffed into the sweltering inner corners of the giant metal rectangle of cargo space. I thought it was weird how everything in the lives of five people could be put into one van. How our lives seemed so much bigger before we had to move them away to somewhere else.

  Well, not all our things were there.

  Huey was still torn to smithereens on the hilltop. And as far as I was concerned, he was going to stay there forever. Or at least until the next person found him and harvested his scrap for something useful.

  I tried not to think about Huey, because thinking about Huey made me think about Cash, which made me think about all kinds of terrible stuff, not the least of which was what might have happened to him over the two weeks since I’d visited him.

  The van driver had arrived an hour before, and Mom was frantically stuffing “one last thing” in after another “one last thing.” It was amazing how many “one last things” Mom had. Vega and the Bacteria huddled together on the porch, and Cassi locked herself in the bathroom, where I imagined her kissing the mirror good-bye.

  I climbed up onto the eaves outside my window and looked out over the neighborhood for the last time. It was still amazing to me that the hill beyond the woods wasn’t visible from old CICM-HQ, even when I was looking for it. I knew it was there, and a part of me wanted to see it, to say good-bye to it, but every time I thought about climbing down and going back there, Cash’s voice flooded my head again.

  “Let go of space.”

  “Hey,” I heard from below, and there were Tripp and Priya, standing in my yard. Tripp awkwardly held a gift bag in one hand. Priya had a book tucked under her arm. I hadn’t seen either one of them for a couple of days, mostly because I’d been hiding from them. Every time I thought of my two best friends, I was embarrassed by all the times I made them care about space for me—“You’re always hanging around where you’re not wanted, kid”—and of taking them up to the hill and making them act like Huey wasn’t stupid. Plus, I was afraid if I tried to say good-bye, I might do something stupid like cry. Again. Something about moving turns a guy into a real fountain of joy, I tell you.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Can we come up?”

  “Sure.”

  I waited a few minutes and then there they were, heads poking through the window at me. I scooted over to make room, and one by one they climbed out.

  “Today’s the day, huh?” Tripp said. I nodded. He paused. “It’s gonna be weird going to school without you in the fall.”

  I nodded again. The fountain was threatening to spring to life once more.

  Priya elbowed Tripp, and I saw a meaningful look pass between the two of them. And by “meaningful,” I mean the kind of warning look Priya gives when she means to say shut your flapping gum trap before I sock you one, dummy. I’d seen that look more times than I could count.

  She leaned forward. “My mom and your mom are already talking about spring break. I think we’re going to come see you. My mom is going to talk to Tripp’s mom about taking him with us.”

  Spring break was a long time away. Months away. Priya would probably have different bracelets by then. Or maybe even no bracelets at all. Tripp would probably … still be Tripp. Guys like Tripp never changed much.

  “Cool,” I managed.

  Tripp shifted and handed the gift bag to me. “Here,” he said. I looked at the tag.

  To: Arty

  From: Trevor

  Aha! Trevor was his real name! I … never would have guessed it, actually. Tripp totally didn’t seem like a Trevor to me. Just a Tripp.

  I pulled out the tissue paper. Inside the bag were Chase’s old Mickey Mouse binoculars, which I’d given back to him the day Mom and I packed my room. The sight of them made my breath nearly catch in my throat. “I heard about what happened with Huey,” Tripp said. “Chase said you could keep these instead. Well, he said it after I threw sock balls at his face for half an hour, anyway.” Priya elbowed him and they shot looks at each other again. “Anyway, I thought maybe you could start over once you got out there.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and decided not to tell him that I had no intention of starting over at all.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Also, I have something to tell you guys.” Priya and I exchanged glances. She shrugged. “When Chase said I was at practice, he was telling the truth. I …” He trailed off, licked his lips, took a deep breath, let it out in a gust. “I’ve been taking ballet lessons.”

  “Ballet lessons?” Priya and I said at the same time. In a million years I would never have guessed ballet lessons. Drum lessons, chess lessons, yo-yo lessons, rodeo clown lessons maybe, but ballet lessons?

  He blushed. “It’s just … my mom thought it might help my clumsiness. A lot of football players take ballet, you know, so it’s not as girly as it sounds. I actually really like it.”

  Priya and I nodded our heads appreciatively, but Priya mouthed the words “ballet lessons” to me and I shrugged.

  “And, hey, it’s working!” Tripp said. “That weekend that you couldn’t find me? When you had to stay at Cash’s house? I got third place at a competition in Columbia that day. They said my relevé was really sophisticated.”

  “Wow, good job, Tripp, that’s great,” Priya said.

  “Yeah, man, that’s really cool,” I added.

  He shrugged. “Anyway, I just thought you guys should know. I didn’t like keeping secrets from you. Maybe sometime you can come see me at a recital or something. I think I might be a dancer when I grow up.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Definitely.”

  “I almost forgot.” Priya leaned forward and handed me the book. “I thought this might come in handy on your trip,” she said. It was a road atlas. She reached across Tripp and flipped the pages until they were open to Missouri. She pointed to a red star that had been hand-inked right above the Missouri River near Kansas City. “I marked this so you wouldn’t ever forget where we are.”

  As if I ever could.

  “Thanks,” I managed again, while on the inside the fountain raged and burst around so hard I felt I was floating.

  We sat there for a few more minutes, Tripp asking all kinds of questions about my new house, which I’d only seen in pictures online. And then when I’d shrugged and grunted my way through those, he started in on more general questions: “Does your house have a Jacuzzi in the bathroom? Is it close to the Vegas Strip? Do they have yards in Vegas, or is it just desert sand? Do you have a slot machine in your bedroom? Do you have to wear a suit to go into a casino,
like they do in the movies? Do you know how to play blackjack? How much money do you think you could win in one of those casinos, anyway? Do you think you’ll end up being a magician, and, if so, would you have tigers? White one or regular ones? Or would you go for something totally different, like bears? Or penguins? Are there any magicians with penguins? That would be really cool, being a magician with penguins, don’t you think?”

  It was almost torture, because it was totally like Tripp to be asking questions like those. And it was almost torture, because sometimes Tripp’s questions basically were torture. But that was what I was going to miss about him.

  Priya must have been feeling kind of tortured, too, because after a while, she said, “Well, we should probably go so you can get ready to leave.”

  I was never going to be ready to leave, but I nodded anyway, and said, “Yeah,” and next thing I knew they were scooting back in through the window. Tripp went in first—gracefully!—and Priya and I both craned for the window at the same time, our faces ending up just inches apart.

  We stopped, grinned at each other, and then quick as lightning, she reached over and planted a kiss right on my cheek.

  “See you in April, Arty,” she said, and before I could even get feeling back into my stunned, buzzy face, she climbed through the window and was gone.

  Whoa.

  … Whoa.

  I mean—did you—whoa—did you see that?

  I stayed on the eaves for a long time, my fingers pressed to my cheek, the atlas and binoculars tucked in my lap, my two best friends chatting as they walked down the sidewalk just out of my sight. I scooted to the very edge of the eaves and peered around the corner to see if I could still see them.

  And that was when I saw Sarah’s car pulling into Cash’s driveway.

  32

  Cashius Kiddius: The Friendship Constellation

  I scurried back in through the window, closed it, and tossed the gifts my friends gave me into the open suitcase on my bed. As I rushed down the stairs, I passed Mom, who was coming up the stairs with one finger held up.

  “I’ve just got to get one more thing and then we’ll be ready to go,” she said.

  “Hey, what’s the hurry, bud?” Dad asked as I raced past him down the porch steps. Vega and the Bacteria had moved to the Bacteria’s car. I could see through the windshield that Vega was a mess. She had her head leaned into his shoulder, sobbing, while he took bites off the end of a roll of cookie dough just above her hair. Every so often he patted her head. “Don’t go far,” Dad yelled after me. “We’re leaving soon! Your mom just has to get one more thing!”

  I ran through our yards and caught Sarah just as she was opening Cash’s front door. She had her purse looped over one arm and was juggling a bunch of mail.

  “Oh,” she said, startled, when I approached her. “Arty. So good to see you. How are you feeling?”

  “How’s Cash?” I asked, out of breath.

  She shook her head sadly, sideways again. “Not good, I’m afraid.”

  “Can I go see him? I want to say good-bye. My parents will wait if I ask them to.” I wasn’t sure if this was true or not, but I was prepared to ask them. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but leaving without saying good-bye to Cash would have been like leaving without saying good-bye to Tripp and Priya. No matter how mean he was.

  Somehow Cash managed to look even whiter than the last time I saw him. He was hooked up to machines everywhere, and there was so much blipping and beeping, I wondered how he could possibly sleep through it.

  “He’s just sleeping, right?” I asked nervously.

  Sarah nodded. “I think so.”

  “Maybe we should go. He probably doesn’t want me to wake him up.” (Translation: I’m a big wimpy Orion and I’m scared and want to run away.) “Yeah, we should go.”

  But Cash must have heard us, because he opened his eyes. They were tiny slits over bloodshot and yellowing eyeballs, but they were open.

  “Kid,” he croaked, barely more than a whisper.

  “I’m sorry, Cash,” I blurted out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say the things I did. You have sense, you really do. I’m the one with no sense. And I did what you told me to do. I destroyed Huey and I gave up on space. I’m moving today but before I go, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really, really sorry. For everything.”

  His forehead creased and he fumbled with one hand until he freed it from the blankets. He waved me over, looking impatient. My feet must have obeyed, because all of a sudden I was right next to his bedside. He waved more, so I leaned over. Closer. Closer.

  He fumbled until his other hand surfaced. In it was a piece of paper. Weakly, he held it out to me. I took it. It was the paper I’d thrown in the trash last time I’d been here. The one with the Morse code “Star-Spangled Banner.” He’d gotten it out of the trash.

  He waved for me to inch even closer.

  “Lovely cannons,” he whispered into my ear.

  “What?” I asked.

  But he was beset with a coughing fit that cracked through the air like gunfire. It seemed to go on forever. A machine started beeping and a nurse came in and elbowed me away. She pushed some medicine into Cash’s IV. Slowly, his cough stopped, and his eyes drooped closed again.

  “Come on, Arty, I promised your mom we wouldn’t be long,” Sarah said softly. “He’ll be sleeping for a while.”

  I followed, wondering what the heck “lovely cannons” meant.

  When we got back to the house, Sarah patted my shoulder. “I know he didn’t say much, but I’m sure he heard everything you said. He is really fond of you, Arty. And I know he’s sorry, too.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “I’m glad you came by. I was hoping to catch you before you left. Cash gave me something to give to you. I’ll be right back.”

  She disappeared inside the house. When she came back, she was holding a brown paper sack with handles, the kind you get from the specialty grocery stores. It smelled like cigar smoke. The scent made me miss Cash all the more. She handed the bag to me through the door. “He said to tell you that you will be okay in Vegas.”

  “Thanks,” I said again, and started to leave, but turned back. “Do you know anything about lovely cannons?”

  Sarah looked confused. “Lovely cannons?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he whispered to me. ‘Lovely cannons.’ I don’t know what it means.”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. Have you two discussed wars or something?”

  We had. But only imaginary space wars. We’d never brought up cannons, because, duh, without gravity, what good would a cannon do? Clearly, a death ray was the only way to go for maximum destruction. “No.”

  “I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said. I gripped the bag tighter and stepped off the porch. “Thanks for everything,” I said. “Sorry I won’t be at the funeral.”

  “I understand,” she said. “And so would Cash.” I started walking toward home and she leaned out the door. “And thank you, Arty, for being such a good friend to my brother. Probably the best friend he’s had in a long time.”

  Back home, I took the bag up to my bedroom and shut the door. “Oh! Just one more thing!” I heard my mom chirp from somewhere within the house.

  I sat on my bed and opened the bag at my feet. Inside was the astronaut helmet I’d worn when I’d visited Cash’s house. Under the helmet was a letter. I placed the helmet on my head, the echoing of my own breath sounding familiar and wonderful. Carefully, I opened the letter, which was almost illegible in its shaky hand.

  Dear Arcturus,

  In the world of stargazing, the stars are labeled according to the Greek alphabet: alpha, beta, and so forth. The brightest star in any constellation, then, is its alpha star. As it happens, Arcturus is the alpha star in the Boötes constellation–the star formation known as the Herdsman. The Greeks used to refer to this constellation as the Arctophylax, or the bear watcher.

&nbs
p; There are many stories surrounding the Boötes constellation, giving it ties to everyone from Atlas and Zeus to Dionysus. But it is the alpha star–Arcturus–that has real importance in the night sky. Some stories say Arcturus was placed in the sky to protect Callisto and Arcas from Hera’s jealousy. Some call Arcturus “Haris-el-sema,” which means “the keeper of heaven.” Still others call him “Hokulea,” which translates to the “Star of Joy.”

  But I call Arcturus “Arty,” or sometimes, “kid,” and that, in my heart, translates to “friend.”

  It is hard for an old, bitter man like me to experience joy. Ever since Herbert Snotpicker (did that just for you) stole my life away from me, I have had a hard time even seeing what joy was. For the longest time it existed only in the sky for me. And then the sky blackened and it didn’t exist at all.

  Until you came along. The morning that you trespassed into my space room, it was almost as if a curtain had been lifted. I could see myself in your excitement. I could see the sky again! I could see joy again. I could dream again.

  I could do those things all because of you.

  I’m sorry for the rotten things I said to you, kid. I wish I could take them all back. The truth is, my fear has come back something fierce. It looks like I’m going to die having never gotten up there, having never fulfilled my dreams, and I’m afraid if that happens, it will mean I have wasted my whole life. And I’m afraid of letting you waste your whole life, too.

  After you left, I had the nurse pull out the paper you’d brought with you to the hospital, and it was then that I realized that, through you, my dreams may still be realized. Even if I’m gone, when you discover life on other planets, it will be as if I’m discovering it right along with you. Because a dream can never be truly realized until it’s shared.