This Place Has No Atmosphere Page 6

  She blushes.

  The special recreation suite is the one where people can sign up to go for privacy.

  The parents are apparently doing more than medical research.

  I wonder if when our parents leave the rooms, they get a T-shirt that says, “I did IT in space.”

  “So you do have time to spend with us.” Julie bites her fingernail. “If you want to.”

  I don’t want to be mean and I don’t want to hurt their feelings. I’ve also run out of excuses. I’ll spend time with them, but I hope no one thinks we’re friends.

  With any luck there’ll be some kids on the moon that I can relate to.

  With any luck.

  CHAPTER 15

  Gray.

  Everything’s so gray.

  Maybe it’s just because we landed during the night.

  Maybe it’s because everything is really just so gray on the moon.

  Last night was weird.

  The shuttle slowed down and we all got strapped into our space eggs.

  Then we landed.

  Everything was quiet.

  Someone started to sing, “We’re here because we’re here because we’re here.”

  Then Captain Letterman got on the loudspeaker and thanked us for flying Orion, said that he hoped we all had a pleasant trip, and told us that Emily Doowinkle had a poem to recite, “Ode to Arrival.”

  “Landing.

  Standing.”

  I giggle.

  Someone said that Emily’s uncle is a member of the congressional subcommittee that gives money to the space program.

  That explains it.

  While we collected our overhead luggage, people in fluorescent space suits helped connect the shuttle door to this large buslike vehicle. It was on stilts with wheels.

  When the space shuttle door opened, we all walked through it, right into the bus.

  Another vehicle, lower down, was used to pick up and transport all the luggage and equipment.

  With everyone on board, the bus slowly moved us toward the city under the bubble—the only one on the whole moon, although there are some shelters built throughout the moon in case the people working in space suits outside of the bubble run into trouble.

  Once the bus got there, a tube reached out and connected with it, and we walked through the tube into Luna City. Then we had our new addresses added to the information on our shoulder identidisk.

  Luna City . . . my new home.

  Starr whispered to me, “I wish I could still goof and say ‘Are we there yet?’ instead of being here.”

  I took her hand.

  After we got through the passageway, we were immediately taken to the only hotel in town, the Luna Wilshire.

  Sleep . . . .

  And now it’s our first breakfast on the moon, and Lenny Mendez has just hit his sister Henny on the head with a biscuit.

  My father looks up from his freeze-dried eggs. “People who live in glass bubbles shouldn’t throw scones.”

  The grown-ups groan.

  I’m sitting at the corner of the table with Julie and April.

  April is trying to avoid Salvador Arply, who has developed a tremendous crush on her.

  He’s sitting with Barfburger but staring at our table.

  Julie drops some dehydrated egg on her lap.

  I ignore it.

  She looks at me. “Isn’t it scary that we’re going to be meeting everyone soon?”

  I shrug and act like I’m not worried.

  April smiles at her. “I’m a little nervous too. It’s exciting though—a new adventure. Just take a deep breath . . . relax . . . and visualize how wonderful it’s going to be.”

  I try but have visions of being surrounded by barfburgers.

  Julie chews on the edge of her hair. “It’s easy for you two to feel comfortable . . . . I’m starting out in a new place with the same old me . . . and don’t tell me the story about the ugly duckling turning into a swan. My parents always try that one on me.”

  I look at her and think more of a dodo than of a swan but decide to be nice. After all, she is the only person my age that I’ll start out knowing at school on the moon.

  “I’ll help you,” April offers. “Positive thinking. I’m sure Aurora will help us do your makeup. And you won’t have to worry about what to wear, since there are going to be school uniforms.”

  I’ve seen pictures of those uniforms—no one can look good in them.

  Maybe Julie will have a chance to start out more even.

  April looks at me and smiles.

  I nod. “I’ll help. It’ll be alright.”

  As I say that to her, I think about how nervous I really am. What if the kids at the school are already in cliques and don’t want to add anyone else to their groups.

  I always seem more sure of myself than I really am.

  “Are you nervous, Aurora?” April asks.

  Since there is no one from the old gang around, I decide to be honest. I nod.

  “Me too,” April says.

  Julie makes a face. “I really can’t believe that about the two of you.”

  April speaks quietly. “You have to learn to look closely at people and not judge so quickly.”

  For a few minutes we sit without saying anything.

  I think once more about the old gang and about the old school. Now I understand how rough it is for kids who have to move. I wish I’d been nicer to new kids at Alan Shepard High.

  My parents are sitting at the other end of the table having a great time.

  Starr is playing with the Mendez quads.

  It looks like she doesn’t have a worry in the world.

  I think about what April said and wonder how Starr really does feel.

  Julie says, “Let’s make a promise that we’ll watch out for each other, help each other out.”

  I don’t know what to say. I really don’t like her a lot.

  April looks at me. “Aurora, why don’t the three of us kind of look out for each other for a while?”

  It would make me very happy for April to be looking out for me . . . and for me to be looking out for her. That’s what Juna and I used to do for each other. And if Julie’s part of the agreement . . . I guess that’s just another package deal in my life.

  I want April to think I’m a good person, to be my friend, even though she’s a couple of years older.

  I nod again.

  Julie smiles and says, “Friends forever.”

  “For a while does not mean forever” is what I want to say. Instead I give this little smile which Julie will probably assume means that I agree.

  Why am I such a coward?

  CHAPTER 16

  The L.E.B.—Lunar Exploratory Bus—is on its way. We’re ready for a tour of the moon after taking our suitcases and stuff to our new home.

  Our new home—ha. It’s in an apartment complex, the Mayflower. Starr and I have to share a room until more private housing is built.

  It’s hard to believe that back on earth my parents were really upset about the thought of having to give up our house. Now they say, “This is different. Here we’re pioneers.”

  Parents are just so hard to understand. Julie rushes up. “Sit with me on the tour bus.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve already promised to sit next to Starr.” I put my hand on my sister’s shoulder.

  Julie looks hurt.

  “I really am sorry,” I say, feeling a little sad that she seems so unhappy . . . but I did promise Starr . . . . And anyway I spent time with Julie on the shuttle.

  “Yeah, sure.” She walks away and stands by her brother and parents.

  “That was kind of mean,” Starr whispers. “But I’m glad we’re going to sit together.”

  I realize I’ve really missed talking to her. “Me too. It’s been a long time.”

  We just stand there for a few minutes.

  Starr turns to me. “Aurora, I didn’t want to leave either at first. I was just trying to make the best of it.”
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  I look at her.

  She’s biting her lower lip.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  She shrugs. “They were going no matter what we said. It was no use . . . and you made such a fuss. So I figured I’d be the good kid.”

  I give her a little punch on the shoulder. “You little creepling. I’m the one who always has to do the fighting.”

  “You just picked out the lower bunk today.” She punches me lightly on the arm. “You big creepling. You wouldn’t have gotten it if I fought back.”

  It’s like old times.

  I feel better.

  The bus pulls up and we get on.

  Our parents sit down in the seats in front of us.

  They hug each other as if they were still young and not old married people. They are really so embarrassing sometimes.

  Tyler, Robert, and Mariana—some of the construction workers—board the bus. Why aren’t they immediately starting to build a new home for my family?

  April gets on the bus.

  She’s changed into this great outfit, a pink and gray fluorescent minitoga. On her ears she has flickering light earrings.

  “Sit with me,” Salvador Arply calls out and stands up.

  She smiles at him but quickly sits down next to Tolin Black, a very cute media guy.

  Salvador doesn’t look happy, but Tolin does.

  April says, “Sorry,” but doesn’t really sound like she is.

  “You’ll be sorry,” Salvador says. “We could have eventually married and then your name would have been April Arply.”

  “A hard offer to pass up.” April smiles at Salvador for a minute but then turns to Tolin.

  Salvador doesn’t seem too heartbroken, since he stands up when Emily Doowinkle comes up the aisle. “Care to join me?”

  She stares into his braided eyebrows.

  “If it’s really truly not too much of a fuss.

  I’d certainly love to sit next to you on this bus.

  I must confess.

  The answer’s yes.”

  Why can’t she just sit down like a normal person? But I guess you have to be a normal person to sit down like a normal person.

  Matthew would really get a kick out of Emily Doowinkle.

  I wonder what he’s doing right now.

  Maybe I don’t want to know.

  While we were on the space shuttle, it was impossible to have personal mail delivered.

  I hope mail arrives soon.

  I do want to know what’s going on back home.

  The Mendez family gets on the bus.

  Henny, Penny, Lenny, and Kenny are really hyper.

  Mrs. Mendez looks exhausted most of the time.

  So does Mr. Mendez.

  If I ever have kids, I want them to arrive separately—with a baby-sitter attached.

  The driver steps inside, carrying a clipboard. “Hi. Welcome. My name is Ted Cleaver. I’m the tour bus driver . . . and a greenhouse tender . . . and the coroner.”

  “I bet people are just dying to see him,” my father says.

  Starr groans. “Dad. Don’t be gross.”

  Ted continues. “We will now begin our tour . . . just to familiarize you with the area. Later you will be able to explore on your own.”

  The bus moves forward.

  “As you know, we have named this part of Luna City ‘Da Vinci,’ after the artist who envisioned the life of the future. At present, counting all of you, there are seven hundred and fifty people on the moon. Forty-five are children.”

  “A real small town.” My mother grins at my father. “Just what we wanted—the chance to be small-town medical practitioners.”

  Ted continues. “We all hold many jobs, in our specialties and in other fields. Almost every adult does volunteer work in the schools—teaching, tutoring, and counseling. The students also help out in various areas.”

  Being a student is going to be my full-time job, I think—that and being a cheerleader, if they have them.

  The bus stops at a five-story building. Ted says, “This is our all-purpose building—government offices, meeting room, the general store, the school, the hospital, the television and movie rooms are all here.”

  TV and movie rooms—I just realized that there are none in our new home. And the general store. Just one store? No Moon Mall? How do they expect me to survive? What do kids do to have fun up here?

  “You will notice that this building is covered by a six-foot thickness of lunar dust to protect it against cosmic rays. In the unlikely event that something happens to the glass bubble covering our town, we are all to take shelter in this building.”

  Oh, great. Damage to the bubble will be something to think about late at night when I’m not dreaming about earth.

  He starts the bus up again.

  I look around.

  The Mendez quads are doing somersaults in the aisle, all except for Lenny, who is busy being bus-sick.

  My parents are holding hands.

  Tolin and April are laughing at something.

  Salvador and Emily look very interested in each other.

  Julie is handing Vern a tissue.

  What a drip.

  I remember our promise and wave to her.

  She either doesn’t see me or is pretending that she doesn’t.

  The bus stops in front of two large buildings.

  One is the lunar processing plant.

  Ted tells us, “Lunar soil is made up of forty percent oxygen, twenty percent silicon, and twenty to thirty percent metals. We use this plant to convert the moon’s natural resources into necessary things. The dust is used to make concrete. The silicon is made into solar collectors, semiconductors, and glass. The metals, especially the aluminum and titanium, have a variety of uses.”

  I feel like I’m sitting in science or in one of Buzz’s classes . . . . I wonder what he’s doing right now . . . . Probably out recruiting the next bunch of suckers to come to the moon.

  “Next to this building we have our solar collectors and solar power unit . . . and next to that we have a large antenna for radio astronomy and a telescope. The moon offers the earth a great deal as a research base as well as being the gateway to exploration of other planets.”

  Ted sounds very proud. I wonder whether I will ever care even half as much about all of this.

  Next comes the water processing plant, where a limited amount of water is being taken from the ice transferred from the poles. “We’re trying to become absolutely self-sufficient. Until recently we have had to bring water from the earth—an expensive and bulky proposition. Now we have worked it out so that we combine hydrogen brought from the earth with eight times its weight in lunar oxygen and create enough water to sustain life and to bathe twice a week.”

  “Yeah! Only two times a week.” One of the Mendez quads yells.

  Aarg. Only twice a week.

  I’m going to have to wear a scarf on my head for the other five days. This is so gross. I want to go home. If my parents wanted a land filled with adventure, we could have gone to Disney, the fifty-first state. They don’t ration water there and can wash their ears any time they want to.

  The bus starts again.

  I realize that we are the only vehicle on the road.

  “Where are the rest of the cars?” I ask.

  Ted smiles. “There are no private vehicles. The only vehicles are for scientific exploration and manufacturing purposes. We do have an ambu-unit to respond to emergencies. It can go on land or air.”

  No cars . . . . In another two years I was going to be able to get a driver’s license and cruise around.

  “There’s no place to go,” Starr says softly.

  “I noticed.” I want to cry.

  We hold each other’s hands.

  Ted points out the greenhouse. “Here we grow tomatoes, cabbages, carrots, and sweet potatoes.”

  “Yuck,” Henny Mendez says. “I want a hamburger.”

  Ted smiles again. “We make tofuburgers. T
here’s not enough water yet to sustain livestock. On special occasions, when a ship arrives, we often have a delivery of fresh meat and fish. Otherwise we use a lot of freeze-dried foods.”

  “Double yuck.” Henny makes a face.

  “How often do the ships arrive?” Tolin wants to know.

  “Every couple of months.”

  I wonder if you can make french fries out of sweet potatoes. I wonder if Pizza Hut delivers.

  Ted explains how the bubble is equipped with switches to turn on light or dark as needed. Also with air conditioning, heating, and a backup generator because of the extremes in temperatures.

  The bus passes a group of private houses.

  Ted announces. “We started out with prefab structures brought up from earth. Now we are becoming more self sufficient.”

  As we continue on our drive, Ted talks about the things located outside our bubble—the mass driver, which acts as a lunar electromagnetic catapult to send materials to space; the pipeline that brings in the polar ice; the government surveillance areas.

  The final stop on the tour is the historical park, Sea of Tranquillity, where the first people set foot on the moon. There’s a plaque about it, with the quote about the small step, and there’s another sign:

  HOUSTON, TRANQUILLITY BASE HERE

  THE EAGLE HAS LANDED

  The eagle has landed—that proves it.

  This place is for the birds.

  CHAPTER 17

  FACT SHEET

  ABOUT SCHOOL

  1. This is definitely not Alan Shepard High School.

  2. There’s only one person in the senior class, Karlena Leibnitz. I bet that there’s a short yeardisk at the end of the year.

  3. There were only twelve kids total in the four high school grades. Now there are fifteen. Actually, there isn’t even a separate high school. All forty kids from first through twelfth grade (nicknamed the Eagles) are in the one large room with portable divider screens, computers, and a library.

  4. The very short people running and crawling through our classroom sometimes are the kids from the other room who range in age from babyhood through five and are nicknamed the Eaglettes.

  5. There are no cheerleading tryouts. There’s no squad. There’s not even a team, and if there were, there would not be other high school teams to compete against.