Trevor lay restless in his bed, the room completely dark courtesy of blackout curtains. What had he expected his parents to say? They were downstairs, tasking themselves with more important things. He'd be gone for two years. Had they even heard him?

  "They picked YOU to go to Mars?" Trevor's mom repeated, holding a fork full of asparagus just outside the part of her lips.

  "Yes. Principal Fields announced it on the intercom. Mia Roberts, too. She's a girl in my class. Brian used to date her."

  "How much does it cost?" his dad asked, eyeing him across the table as if there must be a catch to the whole thing, to which he'd violently disagree.

  "There's no cost, Dad. We discussed this back when you signed the consent. Red Rock pays for everything. I won an essay contest, and the trip is the prize."

  "You're getting on a ship and going to Mars." Tanya Bell repeated.

  "That's my understanding," Trevor managed. Bewildered by his parents' behavior. They'd discussed all of this months ago. They'd signed the consents.

  Trevor's mom put down her fork, reached for her phone, and began tapping, her bottom lip wedged tight between her teeth. Martin raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

  "Done," she cried out, holding up the phone and fist-pumping with her free arm.

  "WHAT have you done, Tanya?" Martin asked, an exasperated look on his face.

  "It's on Facebook! Now, everyone will know T is going to Mars to save the world!"

  "What am I saving the world from, Mom?"

  "I don't know, pollution, the threat of nuclear war, Covid," Tanya replied-her mood a mismatch with the perils she'd just listed.

  "I think it's more about being the first country to colonize Mars. I wish you wouldn't post about me on YOUR Facebook."

  "Well, it's my Facebook," she said, putting down the phone.

  "How do you know we're gonna be the first country to colonize Mars?" Trevor's dad asked skeptically.

  "Do you even watch TV, Dad? The CEO of Red Rock has more money than God. My guess is he's paid off other countries to let him get there first."

  "Well, I wish he'd take that money and fix what we need fixed down here. All he's gonna do is take our problems further away."

  Trevor looked at his father, a deep crease between his brows.

  "Tanya, how about some discretion before posting things online that are not set in stone?"

  "What does that mean?" Trevor asked.

  "Obviously, I need to know what this will cost, and there's always a chance you won't qualify once training starts."

  "Oh, I'll qualify," Trevor responded, shoveling food into his mouth.

  "Of course, he'll qualify. Look at him, Martin. He's such a good-looking boy, and he's always done well in school. When do you leave, sweetie?"

  Trevor continued chewing, using the muscles in his face to diffuse anger until he calmed down.

  "In January. Sometime after the holidays. I don't know much yet. They'll probably give us paperwork soon. We'll be gone for over two years."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "I want to see those papers as soon as you get them," said Martin, not looking up.

  "Seventeen likes on my post already! You're gonna make us famous, Trevor," Tanya squealed, rising to take her plate to the kitchen.

  "I'm calling Olivia. She's going to freak!"

  Trevor sat quietly, finishing his food. Their colossal dining table was absurd, considering only three people ate there nightly. Scooping the last piece of asparagus into his mouth, Trevor stilled, waiting for congratulations or a series of thoughtful questions. But Martin remained silent until it became so uncomfortable that his son picked up his plate and left.

  "I need those papers as soon as you get them," Martin repeated.

  Trevor nodded and walked to the kitchen, setting his plate in the dishwasher. Tanya stood at the sink, gossiping with her friend about their hairdresser, the topic of space forgotten.

  "Evelyn said she only works Tuesdays because her husband made her give up daycare. Can you imagine? Twin boys, four days a week, year-round. I couldn't do it. My boys are all two years apart, and I thought I'd die when they were home for summer break. Plus, Tuesdays don't work for me. Who gets their hair done on Tuesday?"

  Even the dishwasher was preoccupied, systematically sorting silverware, a sensor looking for upside-down forks. Trevor leaned against the counter, hoping his mom would see he wanted to talk. But Tanya continued her conversation with Olivia. His brothers, away at college, seemed happy for him.

  "So they fly you to Mars, and then you live there for a year?" Jackson had asked excitedly. "Damn. Watch you get famous off this. Congratulations, little man. Two years away from Dad? I mean, that's the real prize. Will we be able to talk to you? How do you feel about it?"

  Patrick had been at work and couldn't take his call, but they'd texted back and forth about his news.

  What up, T?

  MARS?! Dude, that's insane

  I remember you talking about it

  When do you leave?

  Don't take my Alabama sweatshirts up there

  The girl I'm working with is freaking out right now

  She's cute and wants to send you a pic

  Can I give her your snap?

  She's two years older than you

  What do you think about her?

  Yeah, I'm off at 10

  Just hit me up tomorrow

  Love u man

  Talk later

  God, he hated being the youngest. What had once been a loud, smelly house was now an empty nest, except he was still here. Trevor strode up the stairs, listening, hoping his dad was on the phone bragging to someone. However, nothing but the bubbly sound of his mother chatting in the kitchen floated up. He crossed his bedroom, stopping to collect his laptop before collapsing on the unmade bed. More information about the mission would make everything feel less crazy.

  Red Rock was a household name, and a quick Google search brought up their high-tech, user-friendly website. Trevor scanned the screen until he found the word Missions on an oversized orange button. Missions 1-5 were organized chronologically on a space-themed infographic displaying each mission member's image. Trevor studied their somber faces. Each held a space helmet snuggly against their right hip; the Red Rock logo photoshopped below their feet. He wouldn't be one of the first humans to go to Mars, but one of the first children.

  "Can you imagine being among the first children to go to Mars?" Ms. Landry had asked them during English class.

  Brian had replied, "I sure don't feel like a child!" pulling up his t-shirt to reveal an almost naked woman on his bicep.

  "Hopefully, they'll pick someone with class," Ms. Landry had said.

  Trevor disliked the term children but now, he saw the people who'd gone before him looked at least thirty, maybe even older. How would age impact his success on Mars? Younger bodies should have an easier time adjusting, he assumed. His parents were always pulling muscles or falling asleep right after dinner, whereas he ran on four or five hours of sleep and a diet of fast food and chips.

  Returning to Red Rock's home page revealed a purple Health Risks button. This tab opened numerous links, the first being- Dangers of Space Travel. Trevor skimmed an article someone had posted. The list of physiological side effects was long and unpleasant. The average person might expect to experience nausea, vomiting, and motion sickness with space travel. Still, he was surprised to find radiation levels would be so high they might impact his central nervous system, causing mood disorders, problems thinking, and or remembering. He snapped the laptop shut. This was making it worse.

  Only one person would understand how he felt right now. But reaching out to Mia wasn't possible. His best friend had ruined that. Trevor didn't believe high school couples should bank on getting married, but Brian had really treated Mia badly.

  Trevor and Mia had been friends since preschool. But he bet none of that mattered to her. Brian was a loser, so he was a loser. When was he going to stop being a loser, he wondered? Damn, was there one person within a five-mile radius who actually saw him? He'd figure things out with Mia. Maybe space radiation would help her forget he was guilty by association. What would they do to help if any of them actually went mentally crazy on this trip? Half the kids he knew already had mood disorders. Surely Mars wouldn't make him feel any worse than living here.