"What were the other kids like?" Andrea asked, her mouth full of hot dog.

  "I dunno, quiet at first, the head astronaut guy, pretty hot, but older, talked forever, so we only had a few minutes to chat."

  "Any hot guys other than Trevor and the old man?" she teased, lifting her eyebrows and cocking her head to one side.

  "You're ridiculous," Mia said, pushing soggy green beans around a metal lunch tray, which was scratched and dented but reusable. "There's a guy from Virginia who THINKS he's hot. His name was Max."

  "Well, there you go, Mia Roberts, one state away from us. Just a short drive between you and hot Max after y'all come home in love!"

  Mia thought about the students from yesterday and wondered why Red Rock chose their high schools. Ms. Lawrence was supposedly a grassroots follower, single-handedly generating hundreds of thousands of dollars with a kickstart campaign she'd created in her senior year of high school. Her youthful face and obsession with space had made her a bit of a celebrity for a brief time in North Carolina. But what was the connection with these other students?

  Red Rock had chosen applicants from Virginia, Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, and Hawaii. Twelve strangers, a girl and a boy from each high school, thrown together in what felt like a ragtag team to Mars.

  "There's a girl with pink hair I kind of got a vibe from," Mia said, looking at Andrea to see her reaction.

  "Oh, that's perfect, Mi. Align yourself with the e-girl freak."

  "You're so judgy, Andrea. She's probably a rogue-cheerleader math genius."

  "Cheerleaders don't color their hair pink, Mia. We have to match at the pep rallies."

  Mia lifted her chin as if she'd just learned something about cheerleaders that explained everything.

  "There's a girl named Presley from Alabama. I've never met anyone named Presley, have you?"

  "Elvis Presley, duh," Andrea said.

  Mia looked up but said nothing.

  Presley had white-blonde hair and an infectious smile. At the end of the Smart Meet, she'd thanked General Stone and Ms. Lawrence, calling them ma'am and sir. Mia didn't call anyone ma'am or sir except for her grandparents, but Presley seemed genuinely kind and not like a suck-up. Mia had liked her immediately. Would she have anything in common with Presley or Sloan?

  Sloan's pink bob floated involuntarily into Mia's mind. She'd drawn black hearts at the corners of her eyes, which were done up in various purple powders and dark glitter. Mia dabbled in makeup like that for top-secret house parties but would never wear it to school.

  The other girls, Lilly, Mary Jane, and Milani, seemed nice enough. Milani was from Hawaii. Trevor had gotten along famously with everyone, especially Kai, who was also from Hawaii. They'd talked about fishing, which was stupid considering there'd be no fishing on Mars. But secretly, Mia was jealous. Trevor had connected with people while she'd remained primarily mute.

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  The paperwork had taken hours to read. In addition to dozens of additional consents, a physician needed to sign off on her medical history and administer a psychological evaluation. The information was so overwhelming that Jocelyn left for a thirty-minute "mental health" walk.

  Per the paperwork, Mia would need to start replacing her meals with space food. They hadn't provided a menu, but soon, Red Rock would begin drop-shipping supplies to her doorstep. The meals included instructions about how to make them, what order to eat them in, and login credentials to track her body's response to the meals in an online portal. Ms. Lane, the school nurse, would be using a biometric scanner to obtain weekly vitals, which synced with a digital health file. There was also a rigorous exercise routine.

  "Did you read this? You have to run, Mia, three times a week and lift weights. We don't even have weights," her mom said.

  "How will they know if I run, Mom. It's not like they'll send a drone here to watch me."

  "Because you have a time trial in weeks three and six," Jocelyn stated, struggling to read without her glasses.

  Mia sighed and rolled her eyes. After Jocelyn's pep talk and more research, she'd relaxed about the M6 mission, but these criteria made her stomach bubbly again. She hated to run, and they DIDN'T have any weights.

  Did her dad have weights? He still didn't know about her acceptance into the program. It wasn't that Mia hated her father or worried the news might upset him. She simply didn't value his input. When she did call, it would be quick. He'd congratulate her and ask a few surface-level questions. He'd never pour over the paperwork the way her mom was. Mia scratched at her leg, debating whether to call now, when suddenly, Jocelyn released a sharp gasp.

  "Did you see how you'll take a bath? You're only given 10 pints of water for the entire trip."

  Mia laughed and nodded, looking over her mom's shoulder at a YouTube video Jocelyn had just finished.

  "General Stone mentioned something about sponge baths and dry shampoo," Mia answered, making a face.

  "That sounds stinky," her mom replied.

  "We can watch documentaries on how they live on the ISS to get a better idea of what to expect."

  "The ISS?" her mom repeated.

  "The International Space Station," Mia explained. "People live up there for over a year at a time. That's the intel they use to design our travel."

  "Where can I watch the documentaries? "Jocelyn asked.

  "On your phone, silly," Mia said.

  Mia pulled her phone out of her back pocket and searched for ChatGPT. Tell me everything you know about the ISS she prompted, and then handed the phone to her mom.

  Jocelyn studied the small screen for a few minutes and then began to laugh. "So it's pretty simple, really. You'll use dry shampoo because they can't have water floating around, and they give you pouches of soapy water for your body, which you have to use with towels, again to soak up the water. What in the world is your hair going to look like after using dry shampoo for two years?" Jocelyn asked.

  "Like a sexy beast," Mia said, kicking one leg up in the air like a professional dancer.

  "You'll look like a beast, alright. Probably smell like one, too. Are you fine with all this? I mean, I know you can handle it. But Mia, this is a lot."

  "No. I have no idea if I can handle any of it, but I'll never know if I don't try. And I'm giving myself permission to be afraid and do it anyway. My mom taught me that."

  "Did she teach you how to brown hamburger meat?" Jocelyn said, smiling.

  "Maybe," Mia said.

  "Would you mind doing that for me. I was planning to make spaghetti, but I have to look through all these forms."

  "Your wish is my command, Madre," Mia said.

  Jocelyn watched Mia leave to start dinner and sank back in a leather computer chair, her daughter's paperwork chaotic around her. She fidgeted with the computer keyboard until the screen woke up, illuminating her face. Red Rock's homepage appeared, a bright orange missions tab grabbing her attention. Not a single loss of life, it read.

  She opened up another tab, her Amazon account. Ten books on modern space travel sat expectantly in the cart. She clicked complete purchase and stood.

  "How are Trevor's parents handling this?" she called out to Mia while walking to the kitchen.

  She'd never know Trevor's papers were already signed and back in an orange folder, waiting unceremoniously in his expensive-looking book bag.