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CHAPTER 6: NO ONE WANTS A FLOATER

  Mia powered up her Chromebook and waited for Ms. Lawrence to ring the bell. Andrea had a doctor appointment this morning, so their lab table was quiet, aside from Marcos chewing his pencil.

  The cracking sound was hideous—teeth against dirty yellow wood. He needed to stop and commit to a stronger deodorant.

  "Can you please stop?" Mia said.

  Unexpectedly, Mr. Phillips walked in, carrying coffee and a stack of unruly papers. The two teachers exchanged a quiet back and forth, and then he sat on a barstool and waited.

  Peyton rose and turned to face the class, dark waves framing the oval of her face.

  "I'm sure some of you saw the assignment I posted on Smart Class this morning. It's due before you leave today," she said.

  Collective sighs and moans blocked out the noise coming from Marcos, who was scrolling to examine the assignment in more detail.

  "Mr. Phillips is covering for me this morning. I have an important meeting. He can answer tech questions, but lean on each other to complete the work. Mia, come with me, please. You'll need your bookbag."

  Mia flinched, looking up, unsure she'd heard correctly. Peyton smiled and waved towards the door, signaling they should leave. In less than a minute, they faced each other alone in the hallway.

  "There's a meeting this morning with students from each high school. We plan to go over the specifics of the next six weeks and the paperwork going home today. I bet your parents have tons of questions."

  Mia stared at Ms. Lawrence and nodded, although she wanted to say, "It's just my mom," even though she had a dad, too.

  "Trevor will be there. There's nothing to be anxious about. Knowing more may calm your nerves, don't you agree?"

  Mia had no idea if she agreed, but they were walking now, and she nodded again, thinking Ms. Lawrence smelled like hairspray and coffee. The meeting was in the old art room, a multipurpose space for band practice, scholar's bowl meetings, and other goings-on at Southern High School. Trevor was already there, apparently unescorted and equally surprised by the look on his face. Mia walked in behind Ms. Lawrence, taking a seat a few desks away from him.

  "Both of you get out your Chromebooks. We're invited to a Smart Class meeting with Red Rock in ten minutes. Here's the code to join."

  Peyton tapped her watch, then took it off, setting it on a podium. An email with an odd combination of letters and numbers in the subject line provided the code now projected on the wall. She plugged her laptop into the smart board, which displayed the message "waiting for host." Mia glanced at Trevor, who was squinting to see the code.

  "How did it go last night with telling your families? I bet it was quite a conversation, right?" Ms. Lawrence asked.

  Trevor's face clouded as he looked away. Mia recalled her mother's shaky voice, asking if the trip still took two years, and regretted not texting her dad. No one spoke as Peyton looked back and forth between them, her face calm as if she sensed neither was prepared to share their experience.

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  "Feeling a bit scared and overwhelmed is all part of this. You're moments away from meeting the ten other essay winners. Once you hear from Red Rock, you may find more to say and discuss."

  The Smart Class meeting opened with a good-looking middle-aged man in a flight suit dominating the screen. Thirteen tiny screens made a grid off to the right side, two of which projected Mia and Trevor's blank faces.

  "Oh my God," Mia said, brushing her hair from her face and wishing she'd put on lip gloss.

  Trevor smiled and mouthed "Hi" as she tried to adjust to what was unfolding.

  "I need to collect a few more items, cadets," said the older man. "No need to be shy. Use this time to introduce yourselves."

  And abruptly, he left, leaving the small squares to stare at each other. Six boys and six girls scanned the grid, waiting to see who'd speak first.

  "Where's the teacher?" a dark-haired girl asked.

  "I'm here," said Ms. Lawrence, her face replacing the large vacant square.

  Mia looked up at Peyton, standing feet away, smiling. The girl smiled and nodded back, but didn't say or ask anything more. There were two other brunettes, two blondes, and one girl with fuchsia-colored hair. Mia fixated on her immediately. She was beautiful. Not like Andrea. Not cheerleader-beautiful but beautiful in a way that made you not want to look away.

  "My name is Ms. Lawrence, and I'll be your teacher/advisor throughout our trip. We'll need to work together and be honest with each other for everything to go smoothly."

  What an oddly intimate thing to say to kids you just met, Mia thought, watching each candidate's face. No one reacted to Ms. Lawrence.

  "It looks like we'll all have dates to our senior prom," a remarkably handsome African-American boy said.

  "You wish," said the girl with fuchsia hair, rolling her eyes and flipping the boy off quickly as if Ms. Lawrence couldn't see.

  Peyton cleared her throat, changing their view from the grid to just her face.

  "Well, since you brought it up, let me clarify some things regarding 'relationships' on the mission."

  Everyone got quiet, and Mia was glad no one could see her face up close, which had gone pink.

  "Red Rock forbids anything other than platonic relationships on these missions. Girls, you should know you'll take a pregnancy test two weeks out from launch and be subjected to further testing at any time during the mission. You're old enough to understand that there are no provisions for childbirth on a spacecraft or on Mars. We take that very seriously."

  Mia glanced over at Trevor, who blushed and held up his hands. The man in the flight suit replaced Ms. Lawrence's face before she could continue.

  "Sorry about that, everyone," he said briskly.

  "I'm first in command of the Red Rock spacecraft, Explorer III, General Rocky Stone. You can call me General Stone."

  The grid reappeared, but all eyes rested on General Stone.

  "How many of you are scared shitless right now?"

  Three students raised their hands but quickly dropped them, noticing that most squares remained still.

  "I would be if I were you," he stated matter-of-factly.

  "How many of you read up on space radiation?"

  Twelve squares raised a hand, and a ripple of laughter broke the silence. Ms. Lawrence looked at Mia and Trevor reassuringly.

  "Well, we're still working on that one. But truthfully, you'll face many dangers throughout your time in space. Astronauts typically train for two years before launch, and you'll have six weeks."

  The students gave mixed reactions to this news. Some covered their mouths, while others fist-pumped, smiling hugely. Mia let this information sink in, feeling highly unsettled.

  "Don't worry. You'll know everything you need to know before launch, and we'll teach you the rest on board the Explorer. It's about a six-month trip to get to Mars, give or take a few days. You'll all know how to pee in a hose before we go, and know you'll be drinking that urine once it's filtered. Of course, bowel movements are more complicated. No one wants a floater. Before starting the paperwork, does anyone have any questions?"

  Twelve squares raised their hand, and Trevor laughed out loud as Ms. Lawrence took in a sharp breath of air.

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