I chose to smack Just Rahim upside the head with a bat at the start of one of the most momentous weeks of the century. Some would say, maybe ever. Who’d have guessed?
Inside David’s office, which he thankfully almost always forgot to lock, I drank down every piece of news.
This was the week where NASA’s telescopes, peering deep into space, spotted something moving through the edge of our solar system. Even as my family had all packed up to run for the hotel, press conferences were being scheduled. Because whatever it was, the smudge on their telescopes was moving so fast it would pass through the solar system in just a couple days. And it had come from well beyond our worlds.
And then, even as my family moved from room to room, arguing about what to do next, the object had changed course as it reached the edge of the solar system.
Scientists, usually nervous about drawing any conclusions, began to speculate about ‘extreme outgassing’ being the cause of the course change. But I have to bet some of them began to wonder if something else was going on.
And then yesterday it began to slow down.
With that, even the most cautious scientist began to wonder: was it a craft of some sort?
And then the good telescope pictures began to come in.
The object was artificial. It looked like a giant tree traveling through space. It was roughly as large as Manhattan, or St. Thomas. And by the end of today, it would be in orbit above Earth.
This morning, as I had walked around the beach, the craft, or whoever ran the craft, had started to transmit and talk with communications systems all over the world to anyone who would listen.
The star tree-thing offered improvements to our technology, even a few patents for things we hadn’t invented yet. Water filtration devices, cheaper hydroponics.
And of course, the sudden knowledge that Earth was not alone in the universe. That changed so much, just in those few hours.
In exchange for all that, all the craft wanted was the right to allow the aliens inside of it the right to come down and visit the Earth in peace. Just like they were on vacation or something, as if this starship was a giant cruise ship like the ones that came to St. Thomas all week.
This alien cruise ship was full of aliens from the stars, packed with various creatures that wanted to see a new, exotic place, instead of the usual pale tourists who wanted jewelry, beaches, and duty-free liquor.
And some of these aliens wanted to stay on Earth.
In exchange for letting them stay, the starship would randomly choose from Earth applicants to travel with it further into the stars.
It would be the voyage of a lifetime.
A lifetime, because, I read, it would be almost two years before it would return to Earth.
The door creaked open. I jumped. “Don’t get cross, David,” I said, as I turned and saw that he looked ready to yell at me. “I have to fill out The Application.”
He knew what I was talking about.
“It’s asking for volunteers. And we’d be a long way away from Just Rahim. This is how I can fix it,” I said quickly. “This is how I can change our lives. You understand?”
David nodded. “Keep the door closed. And don’t get caught, or we’ll all get kicked out and you’ll have even more trouble coming for you.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
***
What do you write on an application to a starship?
I’d heard people talking about college applications. Or job applications. But this… I had no idea.
I wanted to talk about all the reasons my family would be great on a starship. Then I thought: what would a starship want with us? My dad and I could paint buildings. Dad knew how to work on road crews, or construction. Or how to fish. Not exactly jobs a starship needed, I had to guess.
“Dear Star Tree. If that’s what you are called. I’m sorry if it is not,” I began. “I think the reason I’m writing this application is because of what happened not too long ago with Just Rahim…”
I poured out the story of my week and of the trouble we were in. Talked about how my parents talked in hushed whispers when they thought I couldn’t hear them. How scared they were. And how responsible I felt.
Then I realized that this had to be more than just a plea to run away. So I talked about St. Thomas, trying to explain where I had come from. I talked about Magen’s Bay and how we went there for a barbeque last year for my birthday. I talked about the time we drove to the very top of Crown Mountain on a rainy day and I walked through the foggy insides of an actual cloud. And what it was like to see Charlotte Amalie on a clear night, light up like a Christmas tree.
I wrote about food a lot. Walking down the streets getting johnny cakes, fresh and still dripping a little of the hot oil they were fried in. Even better with a tangy slice of cheddar slid in the middle.
Beef patties and a juice for lunch.
I explained how we had to wear school uniforms. Talked about the sweet cars driving around, mega-bass blasting out the back with polished rims and tinted windows, even though my family mostly used the dollar cabs to get around.
I tried to explain comics. New Spiderman, Batman, some of the cooler online comics I followed. I listed my favorite books. Anything I could think of that would help the starship get to know me and where I came from, how much I loved it, but also how much I needed to get away now because of what I’d done, until I ran out of things and stared at the pages I’d written.
And then I clicked send before I could change my mind and ran out of the office, my heart in my throat.
I didn’t sleep that night. On my back on a lounge chair on the balcony I stared up at the stars all night.
They danced with possibilities I could only dare to imagine.
***
I woke up bleary eyed and hurting for coffee, so I set out to hunt down some much in the same way I imagine a lion would. I had to steer clear of the main area and the manager, but I knew the guys who cleaned the pool had a coffee pot in the tool shed.
Half an hour later I sat on a chair with my toes dug into the sand, watching people play in the water. A boat’s sails flashed white in the morning sun. It was strange how, even after such a major event like yesterday, life still moved on the next day. Just as it always had. Nothing actually come to a stop.
We were still hiding from Just Rahim. We were still going to have to move rooms tonight. I would still eat lunch from the vending machine.
“Kadie, Kadie Stephens?” someone asked.
I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the man walking the beach and calling my name wore a brown UPS uniform and carried a small box in his hands.
He looked legit. And I could see the delivery sticker on the box. But it could be a trick, I thought. Just Rahim could have found out where my aunt worked. Could have had a package delivered to track me down.
But it didn’t seem likely.
I gritted my teeth and stood, holding the hot coffee off to one side. I was ready to throw it at him and run if I had to.
“Yes?”
The deliveryman smiled. “You hard to find, but the package says you, and only you, can sign for this box here and that you were at this hotel.”
I nervously signed for it and took the box.
Then I slowly opened the box. Nestled inside the packing was a golden medallion. The moment the sunlight hit it an image shimmered into place in the air above the box. A galaxy spun in front of me, stars shifting around and whirling until they melted into a view of Earth from orbit.
“Welcome Kadie Stephens,” the medallion announced in a deep, voice-over. “You and your family have been accepted aboard the All Tree and can begin boarding in three weeks at Mitad El Mundo, in Ecuador. We look forward to meeting you. Please stand still for just a moment.”
I froze as a brief flash of blue light surrounded me, then faded away. I was stunned. The starship had… used UPS to overnight a package to me?
Then the realization settled deep into me: I had been chosen!
Me.
I’d done it. Somehow. I’d been chosen. I could go.
I’d won.
I closed my mouth and swallowed.
Then I noticed the crowd around me. They were taking pictures with their phones and applauding.
This was the sort of thing that ended up on the news.
And Just Rahim would certainly know where to find me.
All the elation and excitement popped like a pricked balloon.
I closed the box and held it up to my face as I shoved through everyone, ignoring the calls and questions. As dazed I was, I knew to randomly jig and duck through every corridor and service area I could, trying to lose the tail of followers I’d picked up as I tried to get safely, and anonymously, back to my room.
All I could think about now was Just Rahim. The three weeks before we could go to Mitad El Mundo (and how would we afford that?) was a long time. Trouble would find us sooner than that. Did Auntie Lynn have anyone at any other hotels who could help us?
She only worked at one. I doubted it.
I’d won, but put us in even worse trouble.
How did I manage to make things worse by winning?
***
My parents didn’t understood me when I burst through the door shouting “The starship sent me a message!” and just kept repeating it.
Then I ran to the balcony to look outside, convinced that people would be gathering somewhere down there, ready storm the stairs with cameras.
But we were alone.
So I kept shouting about the starship.
“Kadie, child, slow you-self down,” my mother said. “I can hardly understand a word.”
I stopped hyperventilating, and leaned against a wall. Then I spazzed out again and ran for our suitcases. “We have to pack right now,” I said. “We have to get out of the hotel right now.”
That scared them, I realized.
“What is it? Did they find us?”
I forced myself to stop bouncing around. I was terrified about Just Rahim and his dad finding us. And I was freaking out in the best way possible about the medallion.
That! Which I hadn’t even shown them.
“It chose us,” I babbled, and held the box out in front of me. “Look!”
I stopped, ran to the curtains and pulled them shut, ran back to my parents. “Look!”
And then I opened it again.
The air in our room exploded in light, just like at the beach. The whirling galaxy filled the space between us all and the box began to speak again.
“Hello once more, Kadie Stephens,” the medallion said in its deep voice, recognizing that this wasn’t the first time it had been opened . “You and your family have been accepted aboard the All Tree, and can begin boarding in three weeks at Mitad El Mundo, in Ecuador. We look forward to meeting you.”
I quickly shut it.
Both my parents looked dazed. I remembered that feeling from just moments ago.
“That the thing in space?” my dad asked. “For real? It could be a prank?”
“Who would do that?” My mother said softly, sounding shocked. “Who would even know to do that?”
They were stunned. Amazed. Bewildered.
“I opened it on the beach,” I said softly, reaching for a suitcase. “In front of everyone.”
My dad looked down at the box, then back at me. “Everyone?”
“I didn’t know. They were taking pictures. I ran.”
And then they understand why I was scared.
But would my parents want to take the ride up to space? To leave friends and family. The island? I didn’t ask. Couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t want to hear the answer right now. I had weeks to figure that out.
Because I’d won!
I shook myself. Right now, we just needed to get out of here as fast as we could.
Then I could ask them. Then I could beg. Then I could figure out a way to get to Ecuador.
We had everything packed into these ratty old purple suitcases that Auntie Lynn had rescued from a room where they’d been left behind. We were ready to call her to help get us out of the hotel, maybe to a cousin’s house for a temporary night as we figured out what to do, when someone knocked the door.