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Authors: Jennifer Brown

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BOOK: Life on Mars
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Vega was the first, but definitely not the loudest, to freak out.

It went like this: Shouting, shouting, shouting about cell phones and stuff. Then Dad hollering that we were moving to Vegas. Then total silence, during which time Comet figured it would be a good idea to stop howling and instead loudly lick his foot. And we all looked at each other in slow motion—
tick, tick, tick
. And then …

KABOOM!
Big Bang number two, the Chambers Family Phenomenon, wherein a giant explosion occurred right in my living room.

“What?
Vegas?
No way! You can't do this to us, Daddy!” Vega cried, and buried her face in the Bacteria's shoulder, bawling her eyes out.

And at almost exactly the same moment, Cassi started screaming so loudly that Comet stopped midlick and threw back his head and howled some more. “But what about
cheerleading? Mom, you know how important this is to me. You know how hard I've worked.”

And the Bacteria kept repeating “Dude” over and over again while kind of awkwardly petting the back of Vega's head, his other hand inching forward—reaching,
reaching
for the banana bread. Girl
Cry
Dude
Bread
Yum.

And Mom started shouting at Cassi. And Dad started shouting at nobody. And our living room sounded like this:

“I WON'T GO YOU CAN'T MAKE ME BUT IT'S MY JOB AND YOU'LL LOVE VEGAS YOU'VE GOT THE SAME NAME BUT WHAT ABOUT MITCHELL
HOOOOOOWL
CHEERLEADING AND BRIELLE AND NOW I'LL BE A SOCIAL OUTCAST AND CASSI THEY HAVE CHEERLEADING IN VEGAS AND MITCHELL MITCHELL MITCHELL
HOOOOOOWL
NOW LOOK WE HAVE TO PULL TOGETHER AS A FAMILY WE'RE IN LOVE YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO US CHEER IS MY LIFE I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU
HOOOOOOWL
DUDE THIS BREAD IS SO GOOD OH MY GOSH ARE YOU EATING BREAD OUR LIVES ARE OVER AND YOU'RE EATING BREAD DUDE NO DUDE
HOOOOOWL
I HATE YOU I HATE EVERYONE I HATE LIFE
HOOOOOWL
BUT DUDE BREAD.”

Then Dad stood up, raised both of his hands, and hollered so loud that Comet ran into the kitchen and disappeared out through his doggy door.

“That's enough! We are moving and that is that!”

“But … Mitchell,” Vega started, big smudgy makeup marks all over her face, which, from the looks of things, fairly disgusted the Bacteria, whose crumb-covered mouth was drawn down in a grimace.

Dad pointed at her. “No. Not a word.”

“But this is so unfair,” Cassi cried from across the room, her hands planted on her hips and her whole face puckered into a pout.

Dad pointed at her. “Zip it.”

“Well, I hope you're happy,” Cassi said, stomping out of the room. “You've ruined my life. It's over. I might as well just … grow horns and join the circus.”

“I don't think it's possible to grow horns on purpose. Especially if you're a human,” I pointed out, but she just glared at me over her shoulder.

“And I might as well buy an old-maid dress,” Vega piped up. “Because I will never love anyone again!”

I was tempted to ask what an old-maid dress looks like but decided against it, given that she had disengaged her hand from the Bacteria's, so I knew this was serious business. Vega covered her face with both of her hands and ran out of the room, her sobs muffled and snotty sounding in her palms.

“Vega!” Mom said, and rushed out after her. Dad, the Bacteria, and I took turns picking at things—the carpet, a napkin, a hair tuft—and pretending that none of that had just happened.

Finally, Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose that didn't go exactly as I planned,” he said.

“Dude, whoa.” The Bacteria stood up. “I should go.”

“Yes, that would probably be wise. From the sound of things, Vega isn't going to be very good company for tonight.”

“Yeah,” the Bacteria said, edging around the coffee table. “Bye.” He started toward the door, then at the last minute, darted back, snatched up the last three pieces of banana bread, and took off. “Yum,” he said, just before closing the front door behind him.

There's a saying that my Grandpa Muliphein once taught me. It goes, “Still waters run deep.” He told me that meant that sometimes people who don't say very much are thinking a whole lot and are very smart, so you shouldn't ever judge a quiet person to be a dumb person.

I'm pretty sure Grandpa Muliphein had never met the Bacteria.

With my sisters locked in their rooms and Mom racing back and forth between them, trying to console them, it was just Dad and me left in the living room. Dad and me and the
hum-whoosh
of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

And there was something about that
hum-whoosh
that made it really sink in what had just gone on. My sisters weren't just being their typical dramatic selves. They had a point. This was sort of a big deal.

We were moving.

Moving.

Away from … everything. Away from our
hum-whoosh
ing dishwasher and away from the stop sign on the corner that rattled when the wind blew and away from Comet's peed-on
swing-slash-nemesis. Away from Priya and Tripp and Liberty Middle School with its awesome pizza and its baseball diamonds where I played Little League until we all realized that I was much more likely to use a baseball to make a model of the solar system than to actually hit with a bat. Away from the tornado slide at my old elementary school, even though I hadn't slid on it since second grade when Mattie Frankelberger pushed me off the top step to see if I could really fly into space. Away from Mattie Frankelberger. Which, okay, wasn't necessarily a bad thing, even though she now went by Matilde and wore colored stripes in her hair and could play the drums like nobody's business. She still had pushy-looking hands. Away from seventh grade, which was supposed to be my best year yet.

And, especially, away from CICM-HQ and the sparkling Liberty skies.

“Dad?” I asked.

He didn't answer. Just stared straight ahead.

“Dad?” I repeated.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Isn't it, like … really bright in Las Vegas?”

“Vegas,” he repeated softly. “You'll love Vegas.” Which, obviously, was not an answer to my question.

“I mean, I've seen Vegas in movies and stuff and aren't there a lot of lights?”

“No, they may not have a Mitchell in Vegas, but is that really a bad thing?” He focused on me for a second. “Is it, Arty? Is no Mitchell a bad thing?”

I shrugged. “More banana bread for the rest of us, I guess.”

“Exactly!” Dad clapped once. “There will be more banana bread in Vegas! Not exactly sure what that means, but it sounds positive and I'll take all the positive I can get. I mean, it's Vegas. Who wouldn't be excited about moving to Vegas?”

“Cassi, Vega …,” I said.

“Yes, but your sisters will come around. They'll see. You get it. This is an adventure, right, Arcturus?”

“Right, but, Dad, I was asking about the lights in Vegas, because as we all know, bright lights can …”

He clapped his hands again and hopped on his toes a little bit. “Yes, bright lights! Like Christmas all the time!” He paced a couple steps, then turned and paced back, tugging at his hair tufts with each step. “An adventure! Banana bread! Christmas all year round! I'll just have to convince them.”

“No, I wasn't suggesting … I was wondering if the lights would make it hard to …”

“You are very smart, Arcturus. Very smart indeed. They'll come around. I just have to make them see. This is best for all of us.”

Just then, there was the sound of a door slamming upstairs, followed by more wailing—Cassi and Vega together, in two-part harmony.

He snapped his fingers, excitedly, paced past me, patting my shoulder twice as he went by. “Thanks, son,” he said.

“You're welcome,” I said, then followed him across the
living room. “But, Dad, I was actually a little worried that the lights in Vegas might make it kind of hard to …”

He gestured over his shoulder as he hightailed it toward the stairs. “We'll talk more about our Vegas adventure later, Arty,” he called, and then disappeared.

“… see the sky,” I finished after he'd gone.

6
The Rocket Ship of Doom

When I rang Tripp's doorbell, I heard a tumbling sound from inside the house, and then the door was pulled open to reveal Tripp rubbing his backside with both hands.

“I fell down the stairs,” he said, although I noticed him cast an accusing glance over his shoulder toward his older brother, Heave, who stood at the top of the stairs with a wicked grin on his face. Heave shrugged, which is usually the job of Tripp's oldest brother, Shrugg, but at the moment Shrugg was racing through the living room after Chase, wearing only a pair of tightie whities and screaming something about paybacks. Tripp edged through the door and closed the chaos in behind him. “What's up?” he asked.

“Rocket ship,” I replied.

Tripp's eyebrows went up. “We haven't been there since Priya's mom made her take swimming lessons in fourth grade,” he whispered.

BOOK: Life on Mars
12.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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