I scurried back in through the window, closed it, and tossed the gifts my friends gave me into the open suitcase on my bed. As I rushed down the stairs, I passed Mom, who was coming up the stairs with one finger held up.
“I’ve just got to get one more thing and then we’ll be ready to go,” she said.
“Hey, what’s the hurry, bud?” Dad asked as I raced past him down the porch steps. Vega and the Bacteria had moved to the Bacteria’s car. I could see through the windshield that Vega was a mess. She had her head leaned into his shoulder, sobbing, while he took bites off the end of a roll of cookie dough just above her hair. Every so often he patted her head. “Don’t go far,” Dad yelled after me. “We’re leaving soon! Your mom just has to get one more thing!”
I ran through our yards and caught Sarah just as she was opening Cash’s front door. She had her purse looped over one arm and was juggling a bunch of mail.
“Oh,” she said, startled, when I approached her. “Arty. So good to see you. How are you feeling?”
“How’s Cash?” I asked, out of breath.
She shook her head sadly, sideways again. “Not good, I’m afraid.”
“Can I go see him? I want to say good-bye. My parents will wait if I ask them to.” I wasn’t sure if this was true or not, but I was prepared to ask them. I hadn’t realized it until that moment, but leaving without saying good-bye to Cash would have been like leaving without saying good-bye to Tripp and Priya. No matter how mean he was.
Somehow Cash managed to look even whiter than the last time I saw him. He was hooked up to machines everywhere, and there was so much blipping and beeping, I wondered how he could possibly sleep through it.
“He’s just sleeping, right?” I asked nervously.
Sarah nodded. “I think so.”
“Maybe we should go. He probably doesn’t want me to wake him up.” (Translation: I’m a big wimpy Orion and I’m scared and want to run away.) “Yeah, we should go.”
But Cash must have heard us, because he opened his eyes. They were tiny slits over bloodshot and yellowing eyeballs, but they were open.
“Kid,” he croaked, barely more than a whisper.
“I’m sorry, Cash,” I blurted out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say the things I did. You have sense, you really do. I’m the one with no sense. And I did what you told me to do. I destroyed Huey and I gave up on space. I’m moving today but before I go, I just wanted to tell you that I’m really, really sorry. For everything.”
His forehead creased and he fumbled with one hand until he freed it from the blankets. He waved me over, looking impatient. My feet must have obeyed, because all of a sudden I was right next to his bedside. He waved more, so I leaned over. Closer. Closer.
He fumbled until his other hand surfaced. In it was a piece of paper. Weakly, he held it out to me. I took it. It was the paper I’d thrown in the trash last time I’d been here. The one with the Morse code “Star-Spangled Banner.” He’d gotten it out of the trash.
He waved for me to inch even closer.
“Lovely cannons,” he whispered into my ear.
“What?” I asked.
But he was beset with a coughing fit that cracked through the air like gunfire. It seemed to go on forever. A machine started beeping and a nurse came in and elbowed me away. She pushed some medicine into Cash’s IV. Slowly, his cough stopped, and his eyes drooped closed again.
“Come on, Arty, I promised your mom we wouldn’t be long,” Sarah said softly. “He’ll be sleeping for a while.”
I followed, wondering what the heck “lovely cannons” meant.
When we got back to the house, Sarah patted my shoulder. “I know he didn’t say much, but I’m sure he heard everything you said. He is really fond of you, Arty. And I know he’s sorry, too.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m glad you came by. I was hoping to catch you before you left. Cash gave me something to give to you. I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared inside the house. When she came back, she was holding a brown paper sack with handles, the kind you get from the specialty grocery stores. It smelled like cigar smoke. The scent made me miss Cash all the more. She handed the bag to me through the door. “He said to tell you that you will be okay in Vegas.”
“Thanks,” I said again, and started to leave, but turned back. “Do you know anything about lovely cannons?”
Sarah looked confused. “Lovely cannons?”
“Yeah, that’s what he whispered to me. ‘Lovely cannons.’ I don’t know what it means.”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. Have you two discussed wars or something?”
We had. But only imaginary space wars. We’d never brought up cannons, because, duh, without gravity, what good would a cannon do? Clearly, a death ray was the only way to go for maximum destruction. “No.”
“I’m sure it’ll come to you.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said. I gripped the bag tighter and stepped off the porch. “Thanks for everything,” I said. “Sorry I won’t be at the funeral.”
“I understand,” she said. “And so would Cash.” I started walking toward home and she leaned out the door. “And thank you, Arty, for being such a good friend to my brother. Probably the best friend he’s had in a long time.”
Back home, I took the bag up to my bedroom and shut the door. “Oh! Just one more thing!” I heard my mom chirp from somewhere within the house.
I sat on my bed and opened the bag at my feet. Inside was the astronaut helmet I’d worn when I’d visited Cash’s house. Under the helmet was a letter. I placed the helmet on my head, the echoing of my own breath sounding familiar and wonderful. Carefully, I opened the letter, which was almost illegible in its shaky hand.
Dear Arcturus,
In the world of stargazing, the stars are labeled according to the Greek alphabet: alpha, beta, and so forth. The brightest star in any constellation, then, is its alpha star. As it happens, Arcturus is the alpha star in the Boötes constellation–the star formation known as the Herdsman. The Greeks used to refer to this constellation as the Arctophylax, or the bear watcher.
There are many stories surrounding the Boötes constellation, giving it ties to everyone from Atlas and Zeus to Dionysus. But it is the alpha star–Arcturus–that has real importance in the night sky. Some stories say Arcturus was placed in the sky to protect Callisto and Arcas from Hera’s jealousy. Some call Arcturus “Haris-el-sema,” which means “the keeper of heaven.” Still others call him “Hokulea,” which translates to the “Star of Joy.”
But I call Arcturus “Arty,” or sometimes, “kid,” and that, in my heart, translates to “friend.”
It is hard for an old, bitter man like me to experience joy. Ever since Herbert Snotpicker (did that just for you) stole my life away from me, I have had a hard time even seeing what joy was. For the longest time it existed only in the sky for me. And then the sky blackened and it didn’t exist at all.
Until you came along. The morning that you trespassed into my space room, it was almost as if a curtain had been lifted. I could see myself in your excitement. I could see the sky again! I could see joy again. I could dream again.
I could do those things all because of you.
I’m sorry for the rotten things I said to you, kid. I wish I could take them all back. The truth is, my fear has come back something fierce. It looks like I’m going to die having never gotten up there, having never fulfilled my dreams, and I’m afraid if that happens, it will mean I have wasted my whole life. And I’m afraid of letting you waste your whole life, too.
After you left, I had the nurse pull out the paper you’d brought with you to the hospital, and it was then that I realized that, through you, my dreams may still be realized. Even if I’m gone, when you discover life on other planets, it will be as if I’m discovering it right along with you. Because a dream can never be truly realized until it’s shared.
Huey was our dream, kid, and even after I die, I want you to keep trying, keep dreaming, keep looking to the sky. Kid, you keep dreaming, and I’ll promise you one thing. If there is life out there somewhere, I will send you a sign.
Never give up. Especially on space, but never give up on anything. Especially never give up on yourself, like I did.
Notice I said “when you discover life on other planets,” not “if you discover life on other planets,” because all that bunk I told you about it not being out there was just that–bunk. Hooey. A load of space garbage. A floating flock of Herbert’s snotballs. It’s not all dead rocks out there. I know that to my core.
I’m going to miss you, kid. I really am. You gave me something I’d never thought I’d be able to have. You gave me something Herbert Snotsflicker (you’re right–that is kinda fun!) could never take away from me.
Arcturus, the red giant, the third brightest star in the sky, is 110 times brighter than the sun.
And that’s what you gave to me.
I am thankful.
Yours in space,
Cash Maddux
P.S. I think you’ll like the change I had Sarah make to the suit.
P.S.S. You still ask too many questions, though.
I read the letter twice, my hands making the paper shake. The fountain had sprouted to life again, only this time it raged too hard against the insides of my eyelids to keep it in. Tears rolled off my chin and plopped onto the helmet. But they were good tears. I was going to miss Cash. But at least I knew he was going to miss me, too.
After the second time I read the letter, I refolded it and placed it on the floor beside me. Then I reached into the bag and pulled out Cash’s flight suit, which had been folded into the bottom of the bag. I held it up by the shoulders. Sarah had stitched letters across the front of it:
HUEY
And underneath, in tidy cursive:
Hillside Undercover Exploration of Yetis
I blinked. That was a terrible acronym. First of all, it made it sound like I was looking for your average variety Earth yeti, the kind you find in rain forests and mountain caves and stuff. Which I wasn’t. And second, I wasn’t just looking for yetis. I was looking for Martian yetis, and I’m pretty sure if I found one, doing a hula on a beach and waving a Mars is #1 foam finger at me, the fact that it was a Martian would probably far outweigh the fact that it was a yeti, and nobody would call it a yeti at all. Not to mention, being a Martian yeti would probably mean that it would be different from an Earth yeti, and maybe it wouldn’t even be called a yeti but would have a different name, like a … Vega. Plus, I could never put it on a T-shirt, because everyone who saw me walking around with the word HUEY across my chest would naturally assume my name was Huey. Besides, was the plural of “yeti” even “yetis,” or was it just “yeti”? Because “yetis” looked weird, and I did not want to have to get into some big grammar talk every time I wore my shirt.
On the other hand. Cash came up with an acronym. Cash said yetis. Which meant he had been listening to me. At least at some point, he had been paying attention to my hopes and dreams. Which made the acronym kind of …
“Perfect,” I said aloud.
Just then, Vega and Cassi came into my room, their eyes red and swollen from tears to match mine.
“The van just left,” Vega said softly. “It’s time to go.”
“What’s that?” Cassi asked, and instinctively I let the flight suit drop back into the bag.
“Nothing,” I said. I pulled off the helmet and put it next to the letter on the floor. “You’d think it’s nerdy.”
She bent over the bag and peered inside, then pulled out the suit and dangled it in front of her. Her eyes got big. “Is this a real flight suit?”
I nodded. “It was Cash’s.”
Vega joined Cassi, running her fingers along the American flag patch. “So cool.”
Cassi dropped it back into the bag. “Is it true that he’s dying?” she asked, kneeling next to me.
“That’s a bummer,” Vega said, sitting on the other side of me. “I’m really sorry, Arty. I know you guys were friends.”
Cassi sniffled. “I’m really going to miss my friends,” and when she said it, I kind of felt sorry for her, even though the Brielle Brigade were super annoying and they made Cassi hate space. It was hard to lose friends, even annoying ones.
“I’m going to miss Mitchell,” Vega added, her voice brittle.
We sat in silence together. Then Vega said, “But we have each other, so that’s a good thing. Can you imagine having to move away from all your friends if you didn’t have old Armpit here to torment, Cassi?”
“Definitely not,” Cassi said, wiping her cheeks and pushing my head toward Vega. Vega pushed it back toward Cassi and we all chuckled.
“I’m really sorry about cheerleading,” I said to Cassi. “And face sucking,” I said to Vega. “Your hand must feel really cold without the Bac … Mitchell attached to it.”
“Thanks,” they both said, and they got up to leave.
I walked over to my suitcase, dragging the paper sack with me. Somehow I was going to have to fit this stuff into my already-crammed suitcases.
“Hey, Arty?” Cassi said from the doorway. I turned. “I still think space is maybe the tiniest bit cool,” she said. “But don’t tell anyone, okay?”
I grinned. “Who would I tell?”
The hustling and rustling downstairs told me that it was almost time to go. I unfolded Cash’s letter one last time and read it over again.
Never give up. Especially on space.
Never give up on yourself.
Huey was our dream.
I pressed the suit and letter into my suitcase and hurriedly zipped it shut, then rested the helmet on top of it. Then I got to my feet and sprinted out of my room and down the stairs.
“Hey-hey-hey,” Mom shouted. “Where are you going? It’s time to get on the road.”
“Just one more thing!” I shouted over my shoulder, and ran out the front door.