Life on Mars (23 page)

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
.

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
.

Huey was our dream, kid, and even after I die, I want you to keep trying, keep dreaming, keep looking to the sky. Kid, you keep dreaming, and I'll promise you one thing. If there is life out there somewhere, I will send you a sign
.

Never give up. Especially on space, but never give up on anything. Especially never give up on yourself, like I did
.

Notice I said “
when
you discover life on other planets,” not “
if
you discover life on other planets,” because all that bunk I told you about it not being out there was just that–bunk. Hooey. A load of space garbage. A floating flock of Herbert's snotballs. It's not all dead rocks out there. I know that to my core
.

I'm going to miss you, kid. I really am. You gave me something I'd never thought I'd be able to have. You gave me something Herbert Snotsflicker (you're right–that is kinda fun!) could never take away from me
.

Arcturus, the red giant, the third brightest star in the sky, is 110 times brighter than the sun
.

And that's what you gave to me
.

I am thankful
.

Yours in space
,

Cash Maddux

P.S. I think you'll like the change I had Sarah make to the suit
.

P.S.S. You still ask too many questions, though
.

I read the letter twice, my hands making the paper shake. The fountain had sprouted to life again, only this time it raged
too hard against the insides of my eyelids to keep it in. Tears rolled off my chin and plopped onto the helmet. But they were good tears. I was going to miss Cash. But at least I knew he was going to miss me, too.

After the second time I read the letter, I refolded it and placed it on the floor beside me. Then I reached into the bag and pulled out Cash's flight suit, which had been folded into the bottom of the bag. I held it up by the shoulders. Sarah had stitched letters across the front of it:

HUEY

And underneath, in tidy cursive:

Hillside Undercover Exploration of Yetis

I blinked. That was a terrible acronym. First of all, it made it sound like I was looking for your average variety Earth yeti, the kind you find in rain forests and mountain caves and stuff. Which I wasn't. And second, I wasn't just looking for yetis. I was looking for
Martian
yetis, and I'm pretty sure if I found one, doing a hula on a beach and waving a Mars is #1 foam finger at me, the fact that it was a
Martian
would probably far outweigh the fact that it was a yeti, and nobody would call it a yeti at all. Not to mention, being a Martian yeti would probably mean that it would be different from an Earth yeti, and maybe it wouldn't even be called a yeti but would have a
different name, like a … Vega. Plus, I could never put it on a T-shirt, because everyone who saw me walking around with the word HUEY across my chest would naturally assume my name was Huey. Besides, was the plural of “yeti” even “yetis,” or was it just “yeti”? Because “yetis” looked weird, and I did not want to have to get into some big grammar talk every time I wore my shirt.

On the other hand. Cash came up with an acronym. Cash said yetis. Which meant he had been listening to me. At least at some point, he had been paying attention to my hopes and dreams. Which made the acronym kind of …

“Perfect,” I said aloud.

Just then, Vega and Cassi came into my room, their eyes red and swollen from tears to match mine.

“The van just left,” Vega said softly. “It's time to go.”

“What's that?” Cassi asked, and instinctively I let the flight suit drop back into the bag.

“Nothing,” I said. I pulled off the helmet and put it next to the letter on the floor. “You'd think it's nerdy.”

She bent over the bag and peered inside, then pulled out the suit and dangled it in front of her. Her eyes got big. “Is this a real flight suit?”

I nodded. “It was Cash's.”

Vega joined Cassi, running her fingers along the American flag patch. “So cool.”

Cassi dropped it back into the bag. “Is it true that he's dying?” she asked, kneeling next to me.

“Yeah,” I said.

“That's a bummer,” Vega said, sitting on the other side of me. “I'm really sorry, Arty. I know you guys were friends.”

Cassi sniffled. “I'm really going to miss my friends,” and when she said it, I kind of felt sorry for her, even though the Brielle Brigade were super annoying and they made Cassi hate space. It was hard to lose friends, even annoying ones.

“I'm going to miss Mitchell,” Vega added, her voice brittle.

We sat in silence together. Then Vega said, “But we have each other, so that's a good thing. Can you imagine having to move away from all your friends if you didn't have old Armpit here to torment, Cassi?”

“Definitely not,” Cassi said, wiping her cheeks and pushing my head toward Vega. Vega pushed it back toward Cassi and we all chuckled.

“I'm really sorry about cheerleading,” I said to Cassi. “And face sucking,” I said to Vega. “Your hand must feel really cold without the Bac … Mitchell attached to it.”

“Thanks,” they both said, and they got up to leave.

I walked over to my suitcase, dragging the paper sack with me. Somehow I was going to have to fit this stuff into my already-crammed suitcases.

“Hey, Arty?” Cassi said from the doorway. I turned. “I still think space is maybe the tiniest bit cool,” she said. “But don't tell anyone, okay?”

I grinned. “Who would I tell?”

The hustling and rustling downstairs told me that it was
almost time to go. I unfolded Cash's letter one last time and read it over again.

Never give up. Especially on space
.

Never give up on yourself
.

Huey was our dream
.

I pressed the suit and letter into my suitcase and hurriedly zipped it shut, then rested the helmet on top of it. Then I got to my feet and sprinted out of my room and down the stairs.

“Hey-hey-hey,” Mom shouted. “Where are you going? It's time to get on the road.”

“Just one more thing!” I shouted over my shoulder, and ran out the front door.

Dad was on the hill when I got there. He was wearing a pair of gardening gloves and was bent over beside a big moving box.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

He popped up and smiled when he saw me. “Hey, Arty! I'm just doing some last-minute packing.” He placed a mostly intact mirror into the box. “Your mom send you to find me?”

He was so casual about what he was doing, like this was something he did every day. Like this was no big deal. Like it was totally expected. Like he couldn't imagine leaving Huey behind, either.

I loved my dad. I mean, I loved my dad every day, but that was he's-my-dad-so-I-love-him kind of love. Watching him bend over and sift tiny nuts and bolts out of the grass, I realized that today he deserved he's-a-pretty-cool-person-so-I-love-him kind of love.

I never answered his question, so he pulled off his gloves
and came over to me. He put his arm around me and we both sat on the ground.

“Guess your life's pretty horrible right now, huh?” he said.

I nodded. “I don't even know what the pizza is like in Nevada.”

“I'm sure it's pretty similar to the pizza in Liberty. You'll like it there, Arty. It's not that different.”

“Yes, it is,” I said. “Priya and Tripp won't be there. And neither will Cash.”

Dad's arm hugged tight around me. “I know. And I'm sorry about that, pal. I really am. But I need you to roll with this. I need you to at least try to like Las Vegas. Your opinion matters to me.”

I looked up at him. “Really?”

“Of course it does. You're the only one in this family who loves space as much as I do. You built this awesome machine.” He swept his arm out to indicate what was left of the pieces in the grass. “You're a smart guy, Arty. Maybe even a genius. Moving, starting a new job, it's scary for me, too. I could use a genius on my side.”

I smiled. It never occurred to me that this move wasn't just happening to Vega, Cassi, and me. It was happening to Mom and Dad, too. “Cash is going to die, Dad.”

“I know. I'm really sorry, son. You two seemed close.”

“He liked space as much as you do, too. It was kind of his whole life. That's why I can't leave Huey here.”

Dad's forehead crinkled. “Who's Huey? Oh. The machine.
Gotcha.” He stood up with a grunt. “Well, what do you say we box the rest of Huey up, then?”

I took his hand and let him pull me up, but before we got started, he spread his arms out wide and I plunged into them for a hug. “It's all gonna work out, Arty, you'll see,” he said into the top of my head.

We started back toward the box, and Dad stopped. “Oh! I almost forgot!” He fumbled in his front pocket, pulled out a cell phone, and handed it to me. “I figured you would want a way to keep up with your friends on the way out to Nevada.”

I turned it over in my hands. “Is it new?”

He bent, picked up a piece of Huey, and tossed it into the box. “Yep. And it's all yours.”

I pushed a few buttons. He had already programmed Tripp's and Priya's numbers into the contacts, along with his, Mom's, and the Las Vegas Planetarium and Observatory. And … Sarah's? I turned the phone off and just watched my dad for a moment, smiling. I'd been so mad at him about moving for so long, I forgot what a really good guy he could be.

He stood to put a piece of Huey in the box and caught my eye. “And if Cassi gives you any trouble about that phone, you just send her to me.”

Correction: a really
great
guy.