American Girl On Saturn

by Nikki Godwin

  Milo opens the box and takes out the five pre-packaged lanterns. Emery is first in line, wanting to hold it and love it and spill her Saturnite heart all over it. Dad and Benji tag-team her for double safety precautions.

  Noah grabs the next one and walks over to Mom.

  “Looks like you can be my leading lady tonight since your hubby’s taken,” he says.

  Aralie rolls her eyes at him, and I wish she knew Noah like I do. Most of his ‘sarcastic’ remarks are really just poking fun at Milo and me. He’s not the annoying jerkoff she thinks he is. Then again, maybe Tate’s not as annoying and immature as I think he is. Once they come clean after lockdown, maybe I’ll get to know him on a better level.

  Aralie takes the next lantern from Milo and unwraps the plastic. She examines the instructions for just a moment before Jules walks up to her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Jules says, taking the lantern from her. “You know damn well that you don’t need to play with fire without a real man around to help you.”

  “Hmm,” she says. “Do you plan on helping me look for a real man?”

  “Oh, I know a real man,” Jules counters. “And he has a big rocket.”

  Aralie’s elbow meets his ribcage, but he just laughs and follows her out into the open yard with the others. Tate eases up next to Milo and reaches for the next lantern.

  “You shouldn’t play with fire,” Milo tells him.

  “Dude, G-man is gonna help me hook this thing up,” Tate says.

  I think the first thing I will ask Aralie after lockdown is how Tate became such good friends with Godfrey…and how Godfrey feels about being called G-man all the time.

  Tate and Godfrey walk across the yard – Tate talking nonstop while Godfrey nods and smiles.

  Milo holds up the last pre-packaged wish lantern and waves it at me.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Ms. Branson,” Milo says. “Just as Emery predicted.”

  “Ugh,” I moan. “And you’re just so boring.”

  “Oh God, Chloe. Stop making me want to kiss you when other people are around,” he says.

  He takes the last lantern and pulls me along with him into the yard with everyone else.

  Dad peels the wax paper from the lantern and examines the fuel pack like he would investigate a government case. Pre-assembled, Dad. Just follow the instructions.

  We let him take the reins and light the first one. He probably thinks we’re all little kids who need hardcore supervision. The fuel pack slowly ignites into a flame, and Dad flips the yellow lantern over.

  “This thing is as long as me,” Emery says.

  She’s right. The ones in Tangled must’ve been different because these are much bigger. They’re like mini-hot air balloons. Tate and Godfrey fall in behind Dad and flip their lantern over as well. I’m surprised Dad or Godfrey didn’t give us a speech about the mechanics of nature and physics and how these things actually launch.

  “Okay, Emery,” Benji says. “You have to make a special wish before we send this off.”

  She bounces. “Is it gonna go to the clouds?”

  Milo laughs. “It’s going all the way to Saturn,” he says. “That’s where they came from.”

  If I wasn’t busy peeling off this wax paper, I’d elbow him for that. Emery is going to go back to school this fall, the first-grader who spent her summer with a boyband, talking about wish lanterns that Milo had imported from Saturn.

  Emery claims that she’s made her wish, and she helps Dad and Benji balance the giant lantern until the wind finally grabs it and carries it into the night.

  “I wished that you’d never leave!” she shouts at Benji.

  Benji groans. “You can’t tell people what you wished or it won’t come true.”

  Emery kicks at the grass and flops down on the ground. She has the ugly baby doll face. Plus it’s past her bedtime. This should get interesting.

  “I hate my life!” she screams.

  Mom abandons Noah and their lit lantern to scoop Emery up from the wet grass. The waterworks come full force.

  Noah and Tate launch their lanterns at the same time. Mom carries Emery inside, and Dad follows. Godfrey is three steps behind. It’s past his bedtime too.

  Benji hovers over Aralie and Jules as they work on lighting the fuel pack on their lantern. He’s probably hoping to wish on theirs as well. He’ll wish that Emery’s wish never comes true.

  Milo flicks a lighter in his hand and turns the lantern toward him to ignite it.

  “You were right,” he says. “Blue burns orange, and no colors could ever be closer.”

  He turns the lantern upside down, and I help him balance it with my hands. It’s so much like a yellow hot air balloon, just smaller…and ours.

  “Okay, make a wish before the wind gets it,” Milo says.

  My wish? Oh, what to wish. Through all of the shooting stars and 11:11s, I’ve wished for silly, pointless things. This – this lantern wish with Milo – needs to be special. As much as I’d love to pull an Emery and wish to keep him here forever, I can’t. He has to be Milo Grayson from Spaceships Around Saturn. And I have to be strong for him.

  I wish for strength.

  Then the wind takes our lantern.

  It’s much later than our usual meeting time once everyone has fallen asleep. For Benji to be as exhausted as a zombie without a brain-fix, he stayed up much later than I’d liked tonight. I never thought we’d get rid of him.

  Milo told me not to change out of my dress, but I feel so awkward sneaking out at nearly two o’clock in the morning dressed like this. He paces across the patio when I get downstairs. He’s still in his khakis and button-up shirt.

  “Let’s go,” he says, before I even get the patio door closed.

  He grabs my hand and hurries off to the treehouse. We’re usually sneaking back into the house right about now. This is all kinds of rebellious and wild. I sort of like it.

  When we reach the treehouse, Milo doesn’t climb up. Instead, he leans against the ladder and reaches out for my hands. He pulls me to him.

  “You know, until the other night,” he says. “I didn’t realize just how much your life had flipped upside down. I mean, you guys had lives before we got here. You had plans and friends to see and things to do.”

  If he’s trying to apologize for making us miss the Up, Up, and Away Festival, he can stop now. Our night was magical and amazing thanks to them. I don’t think I’ll ever care if I go to the Up, Up, and Away Festival again. The festival doesn’t have wish lanterns or Dad’s grilling or a live, acoustic performance by Spaceships Around Saturn.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “I got you out of the deal, so I think it was fair enough.”

  He locks his hands behind my neck and presses his forehead to mine.

  “You’re just being nice,” he whispers.

  Two weeks ago, this boy was trying to pry an ego boost out of me. Now he’s playing coy? I pull back to face him, but for the most part, he avoids eye contact and smiles sheepishly. I wish I could capture this moment. No one would ever believe that Milo Grayson had a moment of weakness.

  Fireflies twinkle in the night, little specks of yellow against a black sky. One floats close by, flickering on and off. I wonder, if by some chance, it’s one of the fireflies we caught during our other late-night rendezvous. Maybe it remembers us.

  Milo reaches out for it and catches it in his hands. He cups it between his palms, and I lean in to look at it. It lights up and blacks out, lights up and blacks out.

  “Coolest bugs ever,” Milo says.

  “And they don’t even have to bleed for anyone,” I say.

  He releases the firefly, and it sparks a few times as it dances away from us.

  “It’s weird,” I say, watching it glow in the distance like the hot air balloons did earlier. “They only light up for a second or two, but they always make me smile.”

  “Sort of like a shooting star,” Milo says.

  My thoughts consume me
again. Bleeding butterflies. Flicking fireflies. I’m going to mourn the loss of lockdown with bugs. Maybe I should enlist the crickets and toads to sing at the funeral service. “Alien Morse Code” can be a new funeral hymn.

  “What are you thinking?” Milo asks.

  I will not tell him that I’m dwelling over this again. No more bug talk!

  “Why did you tell me to keep the dress on?” I ask.

  It’s not really a lie. I was thinking about it…when he told me not to change out of it earlier.

  He just smiles. “Let’s climb up,” he says.

  He steps up on the ladder and goes ahead of me this time, thanks to the dress. I wonder how many guys from my high school would be gentlemanly enough to do the same. From my former clique, the answer would be none.

  Milo helps me into the treehouse, which goes over much more awkwardly than usual thanks to my wardrobe. At least I wore flip flops instead of those heels Mom bought ‘just in case’ I changed my mind. I don’t care if heels are in. I’m a flats kind of girl.

  “Dance with me,” Milo says, extending a hand.

  The Christmas lights reflect in his eyes, and I swear, they actually make his smile brighter.

  “What?” I ask. Did he really just say that?

  He steps closer to me. “You heard me. Dance with me,” he repeats.

  Yep, he really did just say that. I reach out for his hand, but I stop. This is almost too ‘teen movie.’ Isn’t this a scene from one of them? They weren’t in a treehouse, though. Maybe near a pool? I remember Christmas lights. This is surreal.

  “Why?” I ask, even though I know it’s a total insult and I should just dance with the boy.

  “You’re impossible.” He sighs and paces the treehouse floor. “I’ll spare you the details, but your mom has talked about how awful your prom night was, and I thought, maybe, I could help make up for it. I mean, you’re already in the dress, so why not?”

  I wish I knew why I have to question everything and complicate matters. I need to stop being so logical and rational and just let this boy make me happy when he wants to instead of questioning everything he says and does. I shouldn’t make him pay for Deacon’s mistakes.

  “If you don’t want to,” Milo says. “I can pick up my broken sense of pride and just dance with it instead.”

  “No,” I say, willing him with my mind to leave his broken sense of pride on the floor. “I’ll dance with you.”

  He smiles and extends his hand to me again. This time, I take it without reservation. He spins me around once then pulls me close to him.

  “So, are the night critters going to provide music for us?” I ask.

  Obviously my mind is still on lockdown’s funeral hymn, the crickets, and the toads.

  “I was thinking I could just sing for you,” Milo says, his breath warm against my ear. “Any requests, Ms. Branson?”

  Umm, yes, can I completely melt and become part of Saturn’s rings now? Wait, maybe they’re made of ice. I should’ve paid more attention when I had to build that goofy solar system model in second grade. Emery’s been born since then, though, so I’ll use her as my excuse for losing brain cells.

  “Your favorite Saturn song,” I say.

  I have no idea what it is, but this is a clever way to find out. He pulls back and looks at me, lips scrunched to the side.

  “We didn’t get to record my favorite Saturn song,” he says. “Benji and I wrote it, but the label said it wasn’t clean enough for a boyband and that it’d corrupt our image.”

  A flood of paranoia rushes over me. What could be so bad that the label wouldn’t let them record it? It’s probably about some girl they met on tour and had a little too much fun with at an after party or in a five-star hotel room.

  “What’s the song about?” I ask, already regretting it. But I know he wants me to ask.

  “It’s about a girl, who’s been broken by a stupid guy,” he says. He runs his fingers through my hair as he talks. “She goes to a bar to drown her sorrows over a few glasses of wine. And then this guy sees her and wants to put her back together, but she’s too scared to give over her heart because it’s been shattered before.”

  I dare to tilt my head upward so I can see his face. His eyes look even more caramelized with Christmas light speckles in them.

  “It’s called ‘Un-shattered’ because it’s about un-shattering someone’s heart,” he explains.

  “Was there really a broken girl?” I ask. Shoot me. I have to know.

  He shakes his head.

  “Not at that time, no,” he says. “Unless Benji had one that I never knew about. We just liked the idea and wrote it. The label said the bar scene wasn’t good for our younger fans. They didn’t want them to think drinking away your sorrows and leaving with a stranger was okay. They missed the deeper meaning.”

  I guess it comes with the territory. Boybands can’t be rated-R. No sex, no steam, no late nights in bars. At least boybands are moving forward, though. There was a time when only the stereotypical bad boy was allowed to have tattoos.

  “So,” Milo says. “Will you do me the honor of listening to my song and dancing with me?”

  I nod, letting myself fall victim to all things Milo Grayson. As he pulls me close and sings a soft melody, everything is right.

  I wait at the bottom of the ladder for Milo to turn off the lights in the treehouse. He shuffles around, and plastic crinkles above me. I glance around, but I can’t see what he’s doing. The treehouse goes dark.

  “Hey, I have something for you,” he says as he climbs down.

  He holds out a pack of blue tissue paper. Just tissue paper. Then he gently shakes it, and it opens up. It’s another wish lantern. A blue wish lantern.

  “I wanted us to have a special one,” he says, pulling a lighter from his pocket. “So this is ours. Just ours. And we’re going to wish on it together.”

  He steadies the lantern in the moonlight and flicks the lighter for a flame. Blue burns orange and lights the fuel pack. He tilts and turns it until the fuel pack is ablaze, then he flips the lantern over. I balance the pre-assembled bamboo against my fingertips as the wind slowly gathers its strength for flight.

  “Okay, this is for us,” Milo says. “What’s your wish? It’ll be our secret.”

  I think for a second, watching the blue paper lantern glow between us. It’s going to drift away in a moment, far into the night sky, lost among the clouds. It’ll eventually flicker out like a firefly, but right now, while it glows, I smile.

  “My wish is for you to be my firefly,” I say. “After lockdown ends, we’ll only see each other in moments, for short flickers of time.”

  “And it’ll always make us smile,” Milo says. “I’ll be your firefly. I think I like that even more than being a bleeding butterfly. Be mine too?”

  Our lantern lifts from our fingertips and wobbles for just a moment, spreading its imaginary paper wings and taking flight. It glows like a blue spaceship, orbiting its way back to Saturn, where it belongs.

  “I’ll be your firefly too,” I say.

  He pulls me into a hug, and we watch our lantern flicker away into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The screen of my laptop lights up, and I wait impatiently for the internet to connect. It takes about three seconds, but I’ve wanted to see photos from the real Up, Up, and Away Festival since last night when I saw the hot air balloons in the distance.

  I’m not even sad that I missed it. More than anything, I want to see the photos so I can smile to myself because my night with Milo and Spaceships Around Saturn was so much better than the festival ever could’ve been.

  I sign into my Facebook account to multiple notifications.

  Paige Harding has tagged you in 36 pictures.

  Thirty-six pictures? Of what? I’ve barely seen her all summer, and the last time I even remember her having a camera near me was graduation night. She uploaded those pictures as soon as she got home.

  I pull up the fir
st photo. It’s of Deacon. With Paige. Kissing. Not like the way Milo kisses me but in the way that rabid dogs bite each other’s faces off. Her caption reads: Sometimes you just have to give a man what he wants. Sometimes you have to woman up!

  Twenty-four comments wait below.

  Lauren: Damn Paige. Doing it is one thing but tagging her? That’s low.

  Random jerk from school: Ha! The Ice Queen just got burned!

  The jokes continue throughout the conversation – all of them at my expense. Why am I the laughing stock? Why am I the one who is talked about badly? Deacon clucked – freaking clucked – Benji’s last name in the parking lot while harassing my sister and me, and Paige is a backstabbing friend who only did this so she could tag me and act like a badass.

  I slam my laptop shut as my bedroom door flies open.

  “Don’t get on Facebook!” Aralie shouts, rushing toward my bed.

  She grabs my laptop and hugs it to her chest.

  “I’ve already seen it,” I tell her, pulling my laptop back to me.

  She gets up and closes the bedroom door, then joins me back on the bed.

  “I cannot believe that little bitch,” Aralie says. “I knew I hated her for a reason. I’m going to unfriend her right now, as soon as I tell her exactly what I think about her slutty ass.”

  “Don’t,” I say, reaching out to stop Aralie from leaving or moving or whatever it is she’s thinking of doing right now.

  My first reaction was to unfriend Paige and everyone else from school. It doesn’t matter if I rid myself of Deacon long ago. He’ll know that I saw the photos. I’m tagged in all thirty-six of them, and I’ve only seen the first one.

  “We can’t unfriend her,” I say, flipping the screen back up on my laptop. “I’m going to untag myself from these pictures, and we’re going to pretend nothing happened.”

  Aralie stands up and paces on my lime green rug.

  “Chloe,” she says through her teeth. “You’re too freaking nice to her and to that jerkoff ex of yours. They need to get theirs. I know, I know – karma will work itself out, but damn it, I don’t have time for karma. I want revenge now.”