Two
Dylan pushed speed-dial 4 on his cell phone; he’d been using that number a lot in the past month. Ever since their amazing trip to Moonbase Magellan and escaping from the Kylarn attack, one of them had called or emailed the other almost every day, just to check in.
Song-Ye picked up on the second ring and spoke immediately, having seen his name on the caller ID. She didn’t bother with any of the polite pleasantries that usually started a phone conversation. “You’ll never guess where I am, Junior.”
Donovan Dylan Wren, Dyl for short, no longer minded that the South Korean girl kept calling him Junior. The nickname had become a friendly joke between them, and they were learning to appreciate each other’s sense of humor. “Hmm … are you exploring a shipwreck in the Caribbean?” he teased.
Using his shoulder to press the phone against his ear, Dyl stirred a pot of spaghetti sauce with a long wooden spoon. He sat in front of the stove on a rolling stool he used when cooking for the family. He didn’t need his crutches in the kitchen. On the floor, their tuxedo cat Spock rubbed against his ankles.
“That’s your best guess—the Caribbean? As in, swimming with sharks? No, thank you,” Song-Ye said. “Try again, Junior.”
Dyl tasted the sauce and added some oregano. “Are you at the Rose Bowl, watching a football game?”
Song-Ye made her usual pfft sound that meant she was dismissing his comment. “I’m not a football fan. I really don’t understand why people want to watch a bunch of guys in fat-suits chasing a big brown egg up and down a field. One more guess.”
Dyl tried to be as outlandish as possible. “Buckingham Palace, then?”
“Ooh—close! Actually, I’m at a diplomatic reception at the British Embassy with my father.”
“Because … ?” He knew her father was a diplomat, and Song-Ye often found herself in VIP situations that neither Dyl nor his sister JJ ever encountered.
“Because he didn’t want to go alone, and Mom was called away for an emergency consult at Johns Hopkins Hospital—something about a Prime Minister with heart problems.”
“I thought you hated stuff like fancy receptions.” He tried to sound as if he was commiserating, but didn’t think he pulled it off.
Dyl could almost hear her shrugging one shoulder as she replied, “Normally, I do. These events can be kind of tedious. But Commander Zota wanted us to broaden our horizons and learn new things. There’s a lot at stake. In fact, I’m actually wearing a cocktail dress.”
“An alien-fighting cocktail dress?” He wasn’t sure how dressing up for a diplomatic party would help prepare them for the arrival of the Kylarn.
“A professional-looking cocktail dress, appropriate for meeting all sorts of world-class leaders. It’s midnight blue with tiny crystals sewn across it so that it looks like a starry night.”
“Now that I’d like to see—uh, purely for scientific purposes, of course. Maybe I could identify some of the constellations. I’ve been studying a little astronomy, you know, to do my part….”
She laughed. He liked it when she laughed. Dyl realized he was blushing. He could hear a muffled chatter of voices in the background, a piano playing. “Uh, aren’t you supposed to be keeping your father from getting bored right now?”
“Not really. He’s talking to the Duke of Something-or-Other. They were in the same college at Oxford—Merton, I think. Besides, it’s a cocktail reception, and I’m the only person here not drinking—for obvious reasons. So I stepped out on the patio for a few minutes.” She paused, then lowered her voice. “Are you getting excited yet?”
“About a diplomatic reception?” Dyl misunderstood her on purpose.
“Junior,” she said in mock exasperation.
“Oh, you mean about going back to the Challenger Center this weekend? Of course I am. I’ve been working on the assignment Mr. Zota gave us. I even figured out a way to get extra credit at school.” The enigmatic commander had promised that if they spent the month learning three new things according to his instructions, he would send them on another mission—into the future. And so Dyl, JJ, Song-Ye, and their friend Elton Elijah King had all been busy “earning” their next adventure.
Dyl put a pot of water on the stove for boiling the spaghetti noodles. Their mother would be home from her waitressing job any minute now, and it was Dyl’s turn to fix dinner. Later, while Mrs. Wren got ready to go to her evening job at the hotel, JJ would clean the kitchen. For now, his sister was doing homework in the living room.
On the phone, Song-Ye said, “Only two more days.”
“Check. T-minus two days and counting—over.” He turned on the timer for the pasta.
“Whatever. See you there, Junior. Over and out.”
JJ sat by the coffee table on the living room floor, doing her algebra problems and enjoying the aromas of baking garlic bread and simmering spaghetti sauce. The entire apartment smelled like an Italian restaurant. She also enjoyed the fact that Tony Vasquez sat next to her. Sure, he was here getting help on math, but his well-to-do parents could have afforded a private tutor, if he’d wanted one. Instead, he chose to be here with JJ.
Tony ran a hand through his curly light-brown hair and sighed. “I don’t know why I’m so dense. I ought to know this stuff. Boy, you’d think my parents were crash-test dummies instead of computer scientists.”
JJ snorted. “You’re not dumb. This not-getting-algebra is just temporary. You’re great at lots of subjects, this one’s just taking a little longer.”
He looked sidelong at her, and the worry in his blue-green eyes faded. “And how do you know I’m not an idiot?”
Looking up at the ceiling, JJ pursed her lips and thought for a moment. Her blond ponytail swished and tickled the back of her neck. “Well, you always solve mysteries halfway through the movie, you can do Sudoku puzzles in a flash. You made it to Level 100 of Rampart Raids IV faster than anyone I know, plus you built a robot that took first place at the science fair last year. Besides, I predict that you’re going to learn this soon, because you have a good tutor.”
He laughed at that. “Sure, she’s modest, too. Anyway, what if I’m just faking being bad at algebra so I can spend time with you?”
JJ could feel her face getting pink. “Well, in that case, I like the way you think.”
“Do you have time to tutor me on Saturday?”
She shook her head, hating to turn him down. “I’ve got kind of a … thing on Saturday.” And there was no way she would miss it.
He raised his eyebrows. “A thing?”
“An exercise, I’d guess you’d say,” JJ said evasively. She wasn’t supposed to talk about how the Star Challengers had gone to the future, visited the Moon, and tried to save Moonbase Magellan. Not that Tony would believe her anyway. “It’s at the Challenger Center.”
“Hey, that was my favorite field trip ever! Made me think of how awesome it would be to be a real astronaut. That simulation was very realistic.”
JJ was surprised by his enthusiasm. And you don’t know the half of it, she thought.
“Believe me, sometimes when I’m doing routines on the rings or parallel bars, I think about what it would feel like to be totally weightless.”
Tony was one of the top gymnasts at their high school. Sometimes JJ stayed after school to watch him practice. Tony could do an iron cross on the rings, which showed how strong his arms and shoulders were. It had always amazed her that someone so smart was also so athletic.
“I’m going to be an astronaut,” JJ said. “That’s one reason I love going to the Challenger Center.”
“So, what’s the program? Can I come along?” He glanced down at the algebra book, but pushed the homework aside. “I just happen to be free on Saturday.”
“I ….” JJ felt awkward. Commander Zota had chosen their team specifically, briefed them on the realities of living in space and on the Moon, and sent them on their mission. That adventure had convinced the Star Challengers how urgent it was for the next generation to learn about science, math, and engineering. Zota had also given them a stern warning not to reveal the truth of who he was and what he could do.
“Well, I’d love to have you there, but … it’s sort of a private deal—my brother and me, and a couple of others.” Spock sauntered in from the kitchen, jumped onto the coffee table, and purred loudly for attention. JJ petted him, not sure what else to tell her friend. “Maybe another time.”
Tony looked disappointed, but he forced a smile. “I remember you saying you would go to the Moon someday. ‘Moon, sweet Moon,’ right? Of all the people who talk about things like that, I actually believe you could do it.”
For a moment, JJ saw it all again in her mind—the stark beauty of the lunar surface, how she could jump high off the ground with so little effort (even in her bulky space suit), the meteor showers … the alien attacks. She sighed. “Yeah. Moon, sweet Moon.”
Tony propped his elbow on the coffee table and put his chin on his hand. “Well, if you’re going to be an astronaut, maybe I’ll become a rocket scientist.”
JJ thought about the quest that Zota had given them—to encourage people their age to study sciences. The human race needed more scientists. Maybe she could convince him to let Tony go on a future mission.
She brightened. “Know what rocket scientists have to learn?”
“What?”
“Math.” She nudged Spock off of the algebra book and pushed it back toward Tony.
He pounded his fist against his palm, like a fighter getting ready to take on an opponent. “Then let’s focus on the homework and get this done.”
***