by Erin Teagan
After graduation, it was time to find our families, but we all moved slowly from our seats until Mallory and Alex finally told us to stop stalling. That good-byes were not forever and they hoped to see us back at Space Camp someday. So we gave hugs and handshakes and even Noah gave me a fist bump. “No bad feelings?” I said.
He thought about it. “You have some really bad ideas, like the worst I ever saw, but okay.” He smiled at me.
We heard a yipping and a moment later Pepper busted through the crowd of adults and kids standing around the shuttle park. Meg lunged forward, catching him. “Peppy! Peppy!” she said, falling to the ground with the squiggly dog, who was pouncing all over her, licking and snuffling.
Ella and Charlotte joined Meg on the grass and Pepper ran circles around the three of them. And a second later, the rest of their family poured through, sunburned, chomping gum, carrying kids and babies, and helping a gray-haired lady push her walker through the thick grass.
And then they were doing the group family hug again and I made Johanna join it with me. Because a week of walking on the moon, piloting spacecraft, and surviving the Multi-Axis Trainer together made us all more than just regular friends. More like a family, right?
The hug broke up and someone had to run after Pepper when he skittered toward the museum entrance and someone else had to run after one of the babies headed for the parking lot.
James walked up to us. “Thanks again for helping us yesterday and also for giving us your sponsorship. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, we did,” I said. “We ruined your rover.”
“Well, I’m just saying thank you, that’s all. Because of you and your team, our robot won.”
“Well, we did all work well together,” I acknowledged.
“Maybe if you ever come back to Space Camp, we could try to come the same week again?” James asked.
I nearly choked I was so surprised. After all that we did?
“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand to shake.
James found the rest of my teammates, and shook their hands too. And then he turned around, gave a final wave, and joined the RoboEngineers standing under one of the rocket boosters.
Charlotte and Ella and Meg had to leave when one of the brothers ran into a trash can and tipped it over with a giant bang onto the concrete sidewalk. We hugged and hugged again and promised to call and write. And just as Ella was walking away, she showed me what she bought at the gift shop.
“I think you’re right.” She shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
It was a postcard.
“Best friends are always worth another try,” I said.
She held up a bunch more. “I got a few extra for some new friends.” She grinned, and ran to catch up with her family.
And then it was just me, Johanna, and Mallory, waiting for my parents to come. “Samuel was right, you know,” Mallory said. “You girls amazed me this week. First, I was shocked at how you broke the rules and ruined another team’s robot. But then, I was also amazed at how you found a sponsor to help another team. How you were able to work together and build a really cool robot. Most kids would probably have given up. But not your team. Not with you as captain.
“You’re going to be a great big sister,” she said, squeezing my shoulder, before running off to get Orion, who was zooming across the shuttle park.
And that’s when I saw my parents walking through the grass to reach me. “Mom! Dad!” I ran to meet them and pulled them back with me to meet Johanna. She was coming to the airport with us and I was thankful to have a few more minutes with her before saying good-byes. Saying good-bye to friends was not my specialty.
“Congratulations,” Mom and Dad said, each bending down to give me a kiss.
“But what was all that about being disqualified?” Dad asked with a bit of a frown.
I felt my face growing hot. I knew I had to come clean. “I’ll explain it all on the way home,” I told them. “But first, I have to show you something,” I said, reaching into my pocket.
I held up the necklace and it glittered in the sun, the light hitting the gem in just the right place.
“Beautiful,” Mom said. “Is this what you bought with your spending money? A necklace to go with your star necklace?”
“They will look so nice together,” Dad said.
I put the necklace on. “I bought it for Isadora.” I couldn’t look at them. Johanna put her arm over my shoulder. My gift was silly, because why buy a necklace for a sister I might never have? But somehow it just seemed right.
Mom and Dad looked at each other and for a minute, my heart was simultaneously leaping and sinking, because I had never seen that look before. Was it a good look or a bad look? What were they not telling me?
Johanna must have seen it too because she squeezed my hand.
“Abuelita found Isadora at the hospital, Luciana.” Dad reached into his wallet. “And she sent us this.”
My heart leapt. Dad held up a picture of a baby girl playing with a stuffed penguin on a blanket in the grass. Tubes came out of her little dress and pressed into her nose.
“Is she okay?” I asked, my heart sinking again, seeing all those tubes. I clutched my necklaces.
Mom nodded. “Izzy has a heart condition.” She looked at Dad. “It’s quite serious.” Johanna squeezed my hand harder. “They’re going to push our paperwork through in hopes she can come home and get her treatment here.”
It took a minute to sink in. “So.” I looked at Johanna, hardly believing. “Then she’s going to be my sister?”
Mom and Dad smiled. “You are going to be a big sister, Luci.”
That was amazing news. I grabbed Johanna and hugged her, and then I took the picture of Izzy and held it close to my chest, resting it against the necklaces.
“That’s your copy,” Mom whispered to me. “Dad printed off about five hundred.”
We followed my parents to the car, Johanna linking my elbow so I could stare at my picture some more. And then I noticed Isadora was reaching her little hands out, up to the sky.
That’s when I knew she was just like me. She was already reaching for the stars.
Erin Teagan is the author of The Friendship Experiment and worked in science for more than ten years before becoming a writer. She uses many of her experiences from the lab in her books and loves sharing the best and most interesting (and most dangerous and disgusting) parts of science with kids. Erin lives in Virginia with her family, a ninety-pound lapdog, and a bunny that thinks he’s a cat. Visit her at www.erinteagan.com
To write Luciana, Erin went to the real Space Camp® at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama, where she rode the Multi-Axis Trainer, commanded a virtual shuttle launch, visited the robotics lab, went on a simulated mission to Mars, and even scuba dived in the underwater astronaut trainer. Although this book was inspired by Erin’s experience at camp, liberties were taken in writing Luciana’s story. When kids go to the real Space Camp in Alabama, Robotics and Space Camp are separate programs. And at Space Camp, their top priority is the safety and security of their trainees. Unlike in the story, children are supervised at all times.
With gratitude to Dr. Deborah Barnhart, CEO, and Pat Ammons, director of communications at the U.S. Space & Rocket Center, for guiding Luciana’s journey through the extraordinary world of Space Camp; astronaut Dr. Megan McArthur; Dr. Ellen Stofan, former chief scientist at NASA; Maureen O’Brien, manager of strategic alliances at NASA; and the rest of the NASA Headquarters and Johnson Space Center teams, for their insights and knowledge of space exploration.
At youth astronaut training camp, Luci hopes to dive to an underwater habitat where real astronauts train for life in space. But then an underwater crisis turns her world upside down. Will she have to kiss her dreams of becoming an astronaut good-bye?
Keep reading for a preview of Luciana’s second book!
My best friend, Raelyn, and I sat on my front lawn under a mulberry tree. It was August
in Virginia, which meant it was as hot as the surface of Venus outside. At least, that’s what it felt like. We were watching my little sister, Isadora, play with her wagon, filling it with pinecones and dandelions while Mom and Dad packed up the car. We were also supposed to be saying good-bye. In just fifteen minutes, I would be on my way to a two-week youth astronaut training camp.
“So, you’re sure this camp is safe for kids?” Raelyn asked, picking at the grass in front of her.
“Yep.” I smiled at her. “I’m sure.”
Raelyn laid back in the grass. “At least promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Okay, Mom,” I joked, and she threw some grass at me.
“I’m just saying this camp sounds like serious business,” Raelyn explained.
I felt a streak of excitement go up my spine. After I went to Space Camp over spring break, I wanted more. Sure, I had my ups and downs being away from home for the first time, but the experience was awesome. So, as soon as I heard about this training program from my friend Ella from Space Camp, I knew that I had to go. Ella and I applied to the program and in the end, only six kids from across the country were accepted. I was so proud—and okay, a little bit nervous.
“You’re right,” I told Raelyn. “It is kind of serious. Anyway, art camp isn’t always completely safe either.”
Raelyn gave me a questioning look. She’d be going to the art camp down the street at the rec center, a camp we normally did together.
I put on a serious face. “You know, all those pointy paintbrushes and sharp drawing pencils, not to mention the highly flammable kiln in the back room.”
Raelyn laughed, sitting up. “Yeah, I’ll try not to run with scissors.”
I knew Raelyn was just trying to make me smile, but I would miss her. A lot.
“Did you pack your flippers?” Raelyn asked.
“Do you mean my fins?” I said with a laugh. “No, I don’t even have any. Besides, they will give us all the equipment there.” Our mission at camp would be to dive to Cetus, an underwater habitat where real astronauts train for life in space. We’d live there for twenty-four hours, perform experiments, and practice space walks on the ocean floor. Going to Cetus would take me one step closer to being an astronaut and my dream of being the first girl on Mars.
Just then, Isadora came barreling over, a dandelion in her hand. “Flor!” she said, using the Spanish word for “flower.” My parents had adopted her two months ago from an orphanage in Chile, the country where my family was from. I had wanted a baby sister my whole life and I still couldn’t believe she was here.
I took the dandelion from her and pretended to gobble it up, smacking my lips. She giggled and ran off to her yellow plastic car by the front walk. Dad was just coming out of the garage with a diaper bag, Mom close behind with Isadora’s stuffed penguin and a handful of toys. My bag was already in the trunk.
“By the way,” I said to Raelyn, “my parents scheduled Izzy’s surgery.” My heart throbbed with worry. Adoptions usually took a long time but we were able to bring Isadora home so fast because she had a heart defect and needed treatment. Not to mention surgery.
Raelyn looked up. “When is it?”
“It’s a few days after I get back from camp,” I said.
Raelyn shimmied closer to me in the grass. “Try not to worry about it while you’re at camp, okay? You’ve been excited about this program all summer.”
We were quiet for a second, watching my little sister try to ride her car over one of the garden beds. It was hard to get the surgery out of my head. She was so little. The thought of her—
“Seriously, are you thinking about it now? Stop,” Raelyn said.
“I’m not thinking about anything.” But I had pulled every petal off my dandelion without even realizing it.
“Seriously. Don’t ruin your time at camp. Izzy will be fine while you’re gone,” Raelyn said.
I sighed. “I know. Thanks, Rae. What am I going to do without you and your advice when I’m away?”
Raelyn took hold of my hand. We flopped back in the grass and lay in the shade of the tree, twirling the purple stripes in our hair. We had each dyed one little section of our hair to match. A friendship stripe.
“Five minutes!” Dad called from the driveway.
“Lulululu!” Isadora called. She pedaled in our direction and parked her yellow plastic car next to us. “Lulu.” She opened the door and patted the seat.
Raelyn laughed. “Aw, she wants you to get in.”
Isadora bounced.
I draped one of my legs over the door of the car. “Lulu is too big!” I said to Isadora, but she wasn’t convinced. She got out of the car and pulled my arm.
“Come on, big sister,” Raelyn said. “Get yourself in there.”
I folded myself into the car, backing butt-first through the toddler-sized doorway, my head hitting the yellow plastic roof. Isadora clapped.
“One of your legs is still out!” Raelyn said, snorting with laughter as if this was the most hysterical thing she’d ever seen.
I pulled my other leg in close to my chest and wedged it inside the toy car, giving Raelyn a look. “Your turn next,” I threatened.
But Raelyn was laughing so hard, I couldn’t help laughing too, which was difficult to do while jammed inside a toy car.
Isadora stopped clapping and tried to climb in with me, getting mad when I couldn’t make room. “Lulu’s too big,” I told her. Then, somehow, she managed to tip the car over—with me still inside.
I face-planted into the grass, my arms and legs too packed into the car to catch myself. “Rae!” I called, my words muffled in the ground. I was trapped in the yellow plastic car. “Raelyn-this-isn’t-funny-help-me.”
I pushed against the car, my head hitting the top and my knees locked against the steering wheel. I didn’t like this game anymore. What if I was really stuck? Like, so stuck nobody could even help me? I felt a flash of panic. My heart thumped in my ears, beating too fast, and all of a sudden I couldn’t catch my breath. I pushed my knees against the steering wheel harder. “RAELY—”
“Can I help you?” She grinned, lifting the car up enough to dump me out onto the lawn.
I took deep breaths, sprawled on the grass, Raelyn next to me still laughing her head off, the sun bright in our faces. “Seriously, you okay?” she asked, catching her breath.
“Yep,” I said, thankful she couldn’t hear that my heart was still racing.
Sometimes my heart just leapt into panic mode. Like that time Raelyn and I rearranged her room during a sleepover and I got wedged between the wall and her bed or when I accidentally locked myself in the girls’ locker room at school. But I could always count on Raelyn when I needed a rescue.
Isadora toddled over and squeezed into the little space between us, putting her head on my shoulder and her feet in Raelyn’s face. It wasn’t long before she was sleeping.
“Time to go!” Dad called.
Raelyn helped me carry a droopy Isadora over to the car. Who knew a toddler could be so heavy?
“Oh dear, is Izzy sleeping?” Mom flitted around her, feeling her forehead and taking her pulse to check for any changes.
“Mom?” I said, feeling a spike of nerves.
“She’s okay. Pulse is fine.” She kissed Isadora’s rosy cheek. “I just worry when she sleeps so soon after waking up from her morning nap, you know?”
Sleepiness. Weak pulse. Those were the symptoms of my little sister’s heart condition. “Just two more weeks,” I said. “And then she’ll be all better. We won’t have to worry anymore.”
Mom gently tugged my hair. “A mother always worries.” She took Isadora, who was snoring little baby snores. “I’ll get her into her car seat,” she said, leaving Raelyn and me alone.
Raelyn and I hated saying good-bye. It took us almost an hour to say good-bye when she went to Colorado one summer for three weeks for her uncle’s wedding, and even longer when I left for an entire Christmas break in first grade to visit
Abuelita in Chile. But Mom and Dad and Isadora were already in the car waiting for me.
“I’ll bring you back a shell from the bottom of the ocean, okay?” I said.
“And I’ll make pinch pots for us in the highly flammable kiln.” She smiled.
Then we did our secret handshake from second grade and hugged each other until Dad tooted the horn.
The training program was a two-hour drive to the coast. It shared a small peninsula of land with a space flight facility, with the bay on one side and the ocean on the other. I cracked the window as we got closer, the steamy salt air floating into the car.
Isadora still slept, even when we turned off the main road of shopping centers and big stores full of beach stuff and headed toward the bay. The road narrowed and we passed a sign for the space flight facility with a rocket pointed to a starry night sky. And then we passed a banner for the youth training program, and I got so excited I could barely stay in my seat belt.
“I’ll stay here with Izzy. You go with Dad to get checked in,” Mom said.
“Dad,” I said, looking around as we got out of the car, “it’s beautiful.” There was a large grassy area with a giant airplane hangar and a dozen or so yellow cottages at the water’s edge. The cottages were stuck right in the sand, the bay calm and blue green behind them. It looked like a resort, not a youth astronaut training camp, even with all the kids walking around.
“Luciana!” It was Ella, running out of the hangar. I dodged a group of kids lugging their duffel bags across the grassy area and raced to meet her. We’d been sending postcards back and forth for the past few months, but I hadn’t seen her since we left Space Camp.
“Ella!” She looked nearly the same—brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and greenish-hazel eyes—except with more freckles across her nose, probably from the summer sun.
