I’m a firm believer in not counting chickens before they hatch. So having to attend an astronaut party right now is not what I need.
I fully recognize that the families throw a party almost weekly for one reason or another, but a party tonight, of all nights, seems like a bad idea. The vote’s still delayed; the board meeting is happening as we speak. Soon, we’ll learn whether the Orpheus V mission has been shelved or saved, and we can only guess what will happen.
Questions spin around my mind as my parents and I walk into the party and pass a few snacks—a crudités platter and hummus dip—to Grace, who’s hosting this party. The signature stock of two dozen plus bottles of champagne is as impressive as always. Grace leans over as I admire it and whispers: “I’ll be keeping track of those bottles, so don’t try anything.”
I turn to meet her gaze and see she’s smiling. She winks at me and walks away. A joke—one that shows she has no idea about the bottles we’ve stolen in the past. I don’t see Leon around, or Kat, and before I can go find them, I’m thrust into conversations with everyone.
Mom and Dad want me to hang around, mostly because they can’t answer any of the questions about my Flash profile, because they’re old and have no idea what anything is.
But I allow it, just this once.
Someone places a firm grip on my shoulder, and I spin around to see Mara Bannon beaming down at me before bringing me into a bone-crushing hug. She looks at me in one of those ways perfect movie moms look at their kids. Head tilted, barely contained smile.
“Cal, your videos made me so happy I had to drive all the way back here and tell you myself. Do you know how long it had been since I smiled—really smiled? Seeing your hopeful, powerful message … Mark would have been absolutely crushed if the mission got canceled in part because of him. I thank you so much for helping.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Bannon,” I say, letting her give me another hug.
“Oh, and I was furious when I saw how StarWatch started treating you. I watched their coverage, and I swear—those two were just about the worst humans on the planet, if you ask me.”
“Of course,” I say. “And not like it matters or anything, but the one producer, the girl, wasn’t all bad. She helped me expose Josh Farrow when he tried to make you, you know, get back on the floor.”
I think of Kiara—both sides of Kiara—and hope the good side wins out in her. There’s a way to be a journo, even for a gossip blog or show, and still be a good person. She may be jaded, and I may be naive, but it has to be true.
“Well, anyway,” she says. “I shared your videos with all my friends, and they were so pleased to see something positive come out of NASA. It’s all been trashy lately, but it’ll only get better. That’s what I keep telling them.”
“I hope so,” I say in agreement, and get a third bone-crushing hug before I can slip away.
I return to my mom and dad. Dad’s deep into a conversation with one of the Orpheus V astronauts, and Mom’s just standing by with a glass of champagne, smiling and listening in.
“Thanks for suggesting I go to NASA,” I say. “They were really helpful. They followed up on all my media hits and took over the interviews and everything.”
“Well, honey, that’s their job. They’re professionals at it. You’re a professional at doing the reporting. Let everyone play to their own strengths.”
“And thanks for helping Kat with that site. I don’t know how you two did it, but so many senators and members of Congress officially announced their support of the mission today. Doesn’t mean the House won’t vote to cut funding, but at least we’ve shaken them up.”
“Don’t look at me.” Mom shrugs. “It was almost all Kat.”
I’m about to say something, but I completely forget what it is. Because, standing in the doorway are Donna and Todd, and they look like they know something.
Every face slowly turns toward them.
It’s time.
“Can I say it?” Donna asks Todd as Grace lifts the needle from the record player. Everything is frozen for a minute when he gives a slight nod and Donna clears her throat. “We’ve just come from the board meeting. Every director in attendance was in agreement, and each gave their own spiel for why Orpheus V should be kept on. We even showed clips from Cal’s video, which just passed twenty-five million views in less than twenty-four hours.”
She takes a deep, cleansing breath in and hisses it out. Just like I do when I’m meditating.
“And after hours of discussion and analysis, we’re proud to say that the board’s approved the continuation of the Orpheus project.”
“Also,” Todd cuts in, “we had a chat with House Rep Halima Ali, who’s willing to work with us to make sure funds are used properly. She made it clear that her bill would not have the votes to pass, and that they’ve canceled the vote entirely. Which means …”
Donna interrupts him by shouting, “Orpheus V is, without a doubt, back on!”
I get lost in the cheers and the shouting and the splashes of champagne. Mom hands me her glass to take a celebratory sip, and I almost laugh at her cluelessness. But I drink it anyway, and I start to understand why people celebrate with champagne. It lifts me up, it celebrates my own energy, and soon enough, I’m shouting along with the other astronauts.
One thing I don’t do is get out my phone. No one else gets to see this moment. It’ll never be in a history book. It’ll never be on the news, or in an issue of Time for future kids to point at and imagine what it was like to live in this moment, this time when—for one bright moment—everything was perfect.
Leon’s gaze meets mine from across the room. Kat’s squeezing her dad so tightly with joy I think he might pass out, but they’re all jumping up and down. Grace has tears streaming down her face—I would be crying too if I just heard that I was, for sure, going to Mars. She clutches at her son’s shirt and pulls him close. She presses her cheek into his, and my heart melts.
Mom comes to me and lets out a yelp of glee, and she pulls me and Dad into a close hug.
“I can’t believe it,” I say.
Mom pulls back to look at me and nudges Dad with her shoulder. “We can.”
My eyes are back on Leon’s, and our smiles just keep getting bigger, and I realize that there’s one thing left. That things aren’t quite perfect yet. That one little puzzle piece is missing, and I’m going to make it fit.