Chasing Jupiter (2 page)

Gross
. I wrinkled my nose and left, shutting the door behind me. I could still hear him chuckling through the crack. Cliff was still standing at the front door, his arms folded across his chest and his brow lowered. Another loud honk, this one long and hard. I grimaced. Well, at least the school bus hadn’t left yet.

I
have no idea how birthday dinners actually go in normal families, but I can guess. A fine home-cooked meal, presents, and a cake with candles and icing. But I couldn’t remember the last time Mama cooked anything. Normally, I just fixed something for me and Cliff. And sometimes Grandpop Barley. And it wasn’t that I was a bad cook or anything. I was actually really good. But really good doesn’t exactly compare to Mom’s home-fried chicken and rolls.

Needless to say, we didn’t have anything close to a homemade meal for Cliff’s tenth birthday. Mama worked late at the local plantation-turned-bed-and-breakfast and asked Dad if he could just take us all out in his truck, Old Clunker. So we drove twenty minutes to the nearest diner for burgers and fries. Everyone except for Grandpop Barley, who had insisted on staying home to eat some disgusting peanut-butter creation, and Juli, whom no one had seen since she came home from school that afternoon. But at least she had gone to school. With only three days until she graduated from high school, it didn’t seem like classes were her focus at the moment.

Old-fashioned music drifted from the old jukebox in the restaurant corner from singers like Nat King Cole and Perry Como.

“I love this song.” Mama took another bite of her cheeseburger then delicately brushed the crumbs off her face. “We bought this
album when you were a baby, Scarlett. Juli used to like it. But I guess she doesn’t listen to this kind of music anymore.”

I shrugged. “Ziggy told her it was better not to ‘feed at the trough of entertainment prepackaged for the masses.’” The waitress had given me a wiggly green straw for my soda. I took big slurps as the icy sweetness trickled down my throat.
Yum
.

Mama wrinkled her little white nose and shot a glance at Dad. “What kind of name is ‘Ziggy’?”

“Um, I think it used to be ‘Luke’, but then he changed it.” I licked the salt off my french fries and glanced around the restaurant. I couldn’t remember Juli ever dating a guy with a normal name. Jimmy Twinkie might have been the worst. Plus Jimmy Twinkie had a beard, which was far from normal.

“Well, of all the …”

Dad shook his head slowly, lifting a fry to his mouth. Mama looked ruffled, but she quieted down and stared at her fork.

Cliff arranged the french fries on his plate in a long line. “Hey, look, they resemble spears. Uno, dos, tres …”

“How did you learn Spanish?” Dad’s eyes focused on Cliff’s bent head.

Cliff shrugged. “Scarlett reads
For Whom the Bell Tolls
to me.”

Mama shot me a glance. “In
Spanish
?”

I forced a smile. “I checked out a Spanish dictionary from the library last year and learned a few words. But I was just sort of ad-libbing, really. Cliff likes it when the soldiers sporadically burst into Spanish. He says it makes it more realistic.”

“Although, realistically, the soldiers would speak in all Spanish. But Scarlett only knows twelve words,” Cliff added.

I nodded. The conversation was starting to feel stiff. I knew they didn’t really mind what I did with Cliff as long as I watched him after school and made sure he didn’t get into any trouble. But still. I thought the Spanish thing was cute. True, it was a little weird, but
that was just Cliff being Cliff. They made me feel like I was being irresponsible by nurturing his strange habits.

I picked up my burger and smiled. “This is a really good burger.”

Mama glanced at Dad and groaned softly.

Juli still wasn’t home when we got back at half past seven. So I took Cliff up to Grandpop Barley’s bedroom so we could watch the television. They were replaying footage of the astronauts’ orbit of the moon from back on Christmas Eve. Cliff had bugged me all week to watch it again.

“Hey, Scarlett?”

I pulled the blankets up closer to my chin and snuggled into position on the floor. “Yeah?”

Cliff sat on the floor at my feet, frowning in concentration. “What type of material do you think their spacesuits are made out of?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Do you think that you could make me a spacesuit out of that material?”

I glanced at him. “I doubt it, Cliff. That would probably be really, really expensive. You know, if it’s temperature-proof and everything.”

“Oh.” He looked back at the floor for a few moments. “Scarlett?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think …” Cliff pursed his lips. “Do you think they might have a book about how spacesuits are made at the library?”

“No, I don’t think they have that kind of book just yet.”

“Well, do you think someone might be writing it now?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Shush up. I’m tryin’ to listen.” Grandpop Barley shot me a glare from his spot in the old armchair.

I frowned and looked back at the television. The tiny attic room felt very cramped with the three of us squished together.
Why can’t we keep the television in the living room where we can all get to it?

“Look,” Cliff breathed, his eyes glued to the screen. “There it is.”

The Apollo 8 spacecraft was drifting through the blackness of space. Before them, the tip of the moon peaked on the screen, a pale gray on our black-and-white television. It shimmered and swayed just a little bit—otherworldly in its pale beauty.

“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth,” a voice was saying, “and the earth was without form and void.”

We sat entranced, listening to the words being read. Little tingles ran up my arms at what I was seeing. The moon. Outer space. On my television set.

They’re actually out there. Outside of the earth, looking down on us like God or something
. Shivers ran up my arm.
It just doesn’t seem possible
.

And then I remembered that it wasn’t live. That it had happened five months ago. Still, it felt weird to watch.

“And from the crew of Apollo 8, we close with good night, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you—all of you on the Good Earth.”

The television cut to a commercial, the loud noise immediately drowning out the sacred moment.

“I want to ride in a rocket,” Cliff whispered. He turned to me, his eyes large. “Has anyone ever taken a rocket to Jupiter?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I’m going to be the first.” His shoulders straightened as his chest puffed out. “Captain Cliff Blaine—first astronaut on Jupiter.” His little freckled face erupted in a dimpling grin before he sped out of the room.

I leaned back against the armchair and looked up at Grandpop
Barley. He was scowling at the television, his red tie tightly fastened around the collar of his blue cotton pajamas.

“What do you think? Would you like to ride in a rocket?” I grinned, hoping to coax a smile out of him.

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself. “Looks dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back around, grabbing a book off the bed.

Two minutes later, Cliff burst back into the room, gripping a piece of yellow construction paper. He knelt on the floor and shoved it into my face. “What’s this?”

“My birthday list. Remember?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, did you make some last-minute adjustments or something?”

“Just look.”

He really was too much. But I unfolded the paper and looked back over the list. Everything was the same, except for now, scribbled in pencil at the bottom, it read:

16. Sixteen rockets to Jupiter
.

I glanced over the paper at Cliff’s face. “So now you’re going to be an astronaut?”

He nodded. “I’ll teach the aliens on Jupiter how to speak Spanish. And collect moon— I mean,
Jupiter
rocks.”

I opened my mouth to say something when the door downstairs suddenly burst open and voices filled the hallway. “I don’t believe you! How could you do this to me—to us?”

“Relax. It’s not like it’s permanent.”

My ears pricked. Juli.

So she’s home
. A stone sunk to the bottom of my stomach.
What has she done now?

Mama’s voice was growing louder. “It’s awful! It’s beyond awful! How do you expect me to look at you?”

“I’d like to think you don’t care how I look.” Juli’s voice was laced with hard sarcasm.

“Don’t care?”

Cliff scrambled to his feet and ran to the staircase, leaning over the balcony. He squinted his eyes and then his mouth dropped into a small
O
.

“What is it?” I hissed.

He looked at me and shook his head. “Juli’s hair is blue.”

In a heartbeat, I was on the steps beside him, watching the scene below unravel. Mama was standing by the door, hands on her hips. Dad stood beside her, looking helpless and at a loss for words. And Juli leaned nonchalantly against the stairwell.

Her once beautiful, chestnut-brown hair was dyed a hideous pale blue. Hints of brown remained, zig-zagging down her back in thin, ugly streaks. She was wearing her boyfriend’s old leather jacket, which she’d embroidered with pink and yellow flowers. Peeking out below the jacket was a floor-length purple dress and battered leather boots. I scrunched my nose.
What happened to my lovely, had-it-all-together sister?

“Why did you do it?” Mama asked, throwing up her hands. “Did you want attention? From us? From your boyfriend? What’s his name again?”

“Ziggy,” Juli muttered.

“Ziggy! That’s it! What kind of a person calls himself ‘Ziggy’?”

Juli bristled. “What do you mean ‘kind of a person’? Ziggy is just as much a person as anyone in this house! More so because he thinks for himself and makes his own decisions instead of relying on others to get by.” The words practically spit out of her mouth.

Dad stepped forward. “Watch it, Juli. This is still my house, and these are still my rules.” His face softened. “Your mother and I are just worried about you. We hear all kinds of things about foreign substances and alcohol and we just don’t want—”

She shot him a dirty look before bounding up the stairs. “I’m eighteen! I can take care of myself!” She brushed by me and Cliff, glaring at us. “Creeps,” she muttered.

Dad bounded up the steps after her, but she beat him to her bedroom and slammed the door shut. He knocked, but she didn’t answer. Still angry, he stormed to the stairs and gripped the railing. The wood pulled beneath his hands, swaying a little. He stopped on the second step and stared at the rail. “Remind me to fix that,” he muttered, before heading back down and into the kitchen.

Cliff glanced at me, but I motioned for him to keep quiet. Mama looked up and seemed to notice the two of us for the first time. “You two go to bed,” she said, turning away. “Now.” Her voice sounded strained and tight.

I nodded for Cliff to go and watched as he walked down the hall to his room, pausing to look over his shoulder before heading inside and shutting the door. I tried to open my door, but the knob was locked. “Juli!” I shouted, banging on the door.

“Go away!”

Junky-sounding rock music blasted through the door, making the walls vibrate. I sighed and positioned myself on the floor beside the door.
Maybe she’ll get tired eventually and let me in
.

I tried to close my eyes and drift to sleep, but the guitar riffs rattled my brains. I groaned, wanting Juli to either shut it off and let me in, or turn up the music louder so I couldn’t hear Mama crying in the kitchen.

Across the hall, Cliff’s door opened and he poked his head out. Seeing me sitting on the floor, he ventured into the hallway and settled on the ground next to me.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.”

He wrinkled his nose. “I couldn’t sleep with all the noise. So I made a new list.” He handed it to me.

I sighed and unfolded it, smoothing out the wrinkles so I could read his messy handwriting.

I refolded the note and handed it back to Cliff, overwhelmed with a sudden urge to kiss him. I ruffled his hair instead, even though I knew he hated it. “I loved it,” I whispered. “I hope you get everything on this list.”

He nestled next to me in the hallway, and we listened to Juli’s music for a while. My eyelids began to feel heavy, and my head started to swim, even with the beats coming from behind the door. Mama’s cries were soft now, and I could hear Dad’s comforting voice talking to her.

“Hey, knock, knock,” Cliff said. His voice sounded loud in the quiet hallway.

“Who’s there?”

“Luke.”

I frowned. Cliff was pretty good at telling knock-knock jokes, but I hadn’t heard this one yet. “Luke who?”

“Luke through the hole and you’ll find out.” He gave me his signature punch-line smile.

I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. “That was a good one. I liked that one.”

“Scarlett?” Cliff whispered.

I grunted.

“Can I still have a rocket to Jupiter, though?”

A smile tugged at my lips. I peeked at him through one eye. “Yes, Cliff. I will get you a rocket to Jupiter if it is the last thing I ever do. Promise.”

The hot air offered little breeze, making my hair stick to the back of my neck.
Drat Mama for making me wear this dress to church when it’s over eighty degrees outside!
I made a face.
And it’s barely June
.

I was tired of wearing too-short dresses because of that stupid growth spurt I’d had last September, when my legs suddenly shot out from under me, not only catching me up to all the other sixteen-year-olds in Georgia, but also leaving me taller than most of them. Those long legs made keeping up with Mama’s fast pace pretty easy. But Cliff lagged behind, huffing and puffing as he struggled to catch up.

I glanced over my shoulder at him and exhaled. “Mama, I’m going to walk behind with Cliff. We’ll make it there just a few minutes after you. I promise we’ll get there on time.”