Page 9 of Bound By Stars
Curran reaches across the table and tears off another bit of my pastry.
Without turning, Calypso says, “I will ignore the food in my classroom as long as it’s gone by the time we get started.”
For all the hours I’ve spent talking with them about Earth outside of class, I’m not exempt from the three rules they’ve programmed to run across the top of the wall:Be on time. Always have an opinion.And:No food in my classroom.
My mom’s voice echoes in my head.I will be sure Calypso knows to release you as soon as it’s finished.I slip off my stool and cross the room, approaching Calypso as they continue setting up. “Uh…hey.”
“What’s up, Jupiter?”
“I need a favor.” I explain my situation. That my mom, who kept me from most of the experiences on Earth, will keep me locked away from my friends for this entire trip to have me focus on training I could do on Mars. I might make it all sound more dramatic than it is, but I desperately need a break after the month of isolation in that damn penthouse.
They offer a warm smile as the rest of the students file in, taking seats on stools around rows of tall tables. “We’ll figure something out.”
I thank them and return to my seat.
“Throughout our journey, you’ll all be participating in discussions about what you observed during your mission.” Calypso slides their finger up a panel on the wall, starting class like they’re in the middle of a lesson. The overhead lights brighten, reflecting off their dark brown head and silver hoop earrings. “Your final Earth Experience reports are due at the end of the month.” At the head of the room, they draw the due date crudely with one finger before it transforms into uniform text. They sweep their hand over it, sending it across the wall-size screen to light up in a digital calendar in the upper right corner next to their name and pronouns, as if they haven’t been our teacher all year. “Any questions?”
I crane my neck to peer out the bubbled windows on the far wall, past the other students perched on stools around high tables, and discreetly open my sketchbook. Dark open space dotted with faraway stars and planets. I turn the pencil and scratch the side lightly over the white paper.
“Weslie, you’ll be exempt from the assignment. We’ll find an alternative project for you to focus on.”
All the heads turn to follow Calypso’s gaze to the back table, to the Earther girl. Weslie. She nods once with a pinched smile.
“As we’re fortunate enough to travel back to Mars on this brand-new vessel, I think it’s a good opportunity to learn about interplanetary expeditions. I’ve set up tours and demonstrations to get firsthand knowledge of the inner workings of a passenger ship.” They scan the room like they expect applause or gasps of excitement.
“We all learned about the operation of passenger ships in fourth year,” a high-pitched, exasperated voice calls from behind me.
Calypso raises their finger like they were prepared to defend this point. “Ah, yes. You wrote reports, but experience is a deeper level of education. We’re going to get a behind-the-scenes look. And once we’re well into our voyage, the captain has even invited us to the main bridge.” Their expression falls as they survey blank faces.
I open my mouth to say something encouraging.
Skye beats me to it. “Sounds cool.”
We both saw the bridge yesterday on a private tour with our families. I suspect my mother arranged it mostly to try to keep me from sneaking away on our first night on the ship, but also to force Skye and me to spend time together. As if hanging out with our parents is somehow going to shove our relationship past friendship.
Calypso grins. “Cool indeed. But today…” They turn back to the wall and tap a small icon in a row on the edge. The light overhead dims and four words pop up on the screen:Boundless Safety Protocol Manual.
Groans erupt throughout the class.
“Do we really have to?” someone calls from the opposite end of the room.
Next to me, Curran runs his medallion back and forth against the chain around his neck. “Isn’t this supposed to be the safest passenger ship ever built?” There’s genuine concern in my best friend’s quiet voice.
“Indestructible!” another student says.
“Yes, the ship was built with every safety feature possible, but nothing is indestructible. As my mother always says, ‘Plan for the worst. Hope for the best.’” Calypso taps another icon and the phrase flashes over the manual before disappearing again. “So regardless of the improbability of an emergency, you’ll be tested on all safety protocols at the end of the week.”
More groans.
“Okay. Okay. Turn your attention to your tablets and…” They search for someone to call on. “Asha, please read the first item.”
Asha sits straighter. Even in the dim light, her pink hair is so brilliant it’s practically glowing.
Next to her, Weslie folds over the table, unruly curls hiding her face.
By item twenty-three, half the class is napping, and my eyelids are heavy.
“Hale, will you read the next item, please?”