Frick and Frack had to follow us everywhere. Mostly they let us have fun, but when I borrowed Herc’s skateboard they rushed in and literally dragged me off of it before the wheels even started to roll. They yelled at me for being stupid, for risking my neck, and—maybe more to the point—for risking the whole Mars One project. If I broke my leg I wouldn’t go on the flight, and that would mean they’d have to shuffle everyone around, blah-blah-blah. I got it. I tried to convince them I was too good on a skateboard to get hurt on a simple stunt like that, but they weren’t buying it. Didn’t help at all that Herc snorted out loud when I said that.
After that Herc and I walked around for a while and finally settled down on the porch steps at my place. For the last half hour we sat in total silence except for crickets and the sound of cars on the street. Then Herc stood up.
“Got to go,” he said.
At first it surprised me, because I figured we’d be out there for hours. Or maybe go inside and play last video games. But Herc really wanted to go. It was only later that I realized he wanted to be the one who left. On his terms. I guess that made sense. It showed how smart he is about things.
We hugged and shook hands and did not say good-bye.
Instead, as Herc turned to walk home, he said, “See you ’round, Tris.”
“Yeah, man,” I said. “See you ’round.”
Chapter 18
* * *
Then it was time to say good-bye to Izzy. I walked over to her place. Frick and Frack followed twenty feet behind me. It was thirteen blocks to her house. I tried not to think about unlucky numbers. I tried not to think about how much this was going to hurt. I arrived at her house absolutely scared out of my mind. Izzy was waiting for me on the porch. So was Mindy and her camera crew.
And there had to be at least a thousand people on the streets.
Seriously, kill me now.
Chapter 19
* * *
When Mindy saw me she broke out in the widest, whitest, scariest smile I’ve ever seen on a human face. The kind of smile that would make a velociraptor freeze in its tracks.
She stood on the pavement at the foot of the three steps leading to Izzy’s porch. She wore a dress that was some kind of weird blend of swirly gold and silver. Pretty sure she was trying to capture the space travel vibe, and I bet that dress cost more than my mom’s car. She sicced a couple of cameramen on me and they rushed up, hitting me with LED lights even though it was still daylight.
“Tristan Hart!” called Mindy in a voice that was amplified by small speakers mounted on the porch rail. The crowd broke into wild applause and I caught sight of a producer waving his arms to make them keep it up and keep it loud.
Then someone in the crowd started chanting my name.
“Tris-TAN . . . Tris-TAN . . .”
The rest of the crowd picked it up and soon the windows of every house on the block were rattling with the sound of my name. Louder and louder. I’ll bet a million bucks that the first guy to start that chant was planted there by Mindy.
Izzy was still on the porch, her eyes filled with horror and her face turning as red as . . . well, as red as Mars.
She mouthed the words I’m so sorry.
I smiled at her.
Mindy thought I was smiling for the camera. Whatever.
The producer working the crowd began patting the air to quiet everyone down. They were trained better than most dogs and the street got so quiet Mindy’s voice banged off the walls. A tech toned it down.
I saw that seeded throughout the crowd were the usual protestors. Maybe a few more than we normally got when we were taping an episode. And now that I thought about it, the number of those whack jobs had been increasing with every episode. Originally we had one or two; now I could count maybe thirty of them. Impossible to say if they were the ones who thought we were going to hell or if they were part of the Neo-Luddite group. I didn’t see any red scarves. Some had signs like DON’T GO! or YOU TAKE YOUR SINS WITH YOU. Blah-blah-blah. It pissed me off that they were here and that there were so many of them. The closer we got to leaving, the more of them showed up. Not just here but everywhere one of the mission people lived. I didn’t get why it mattered so much to them. If they thought we were wrong, so what? Our mission wasn’t going to affect anyone but us. No one was being forced to go with us. Even the four of us kids were totally down with it. No one was a victim and none of this was an insult to anyone’s beliefs.
So . . . what the heck?
Security couldn’t refuse to let them join the crowd, and unlike the carnival, this was a city street, so unless they started something, they had as much legal right to be here as the fans of the show.
I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned and looked up at Frack’s stony face. His eyes were fixed on the nearest protestor. “You want to bug out, kid, say the word,” he said. It was almost the only conversation we’d ever had. Frick closed in on my other side, his eyes roving with disapproval over the crowd.
I smiled at them and shook my head. “Thanks . . . but I’m good.”
Frick and Frack gave me identical robot nods, then turned toward Mindy. If it’s possible for faces to clench like fists, theirs did. I’m pretty sure that if I’d asked them to kneecap her, they would have. Frack gave my shoulder a small reassuring squeeze, let go, and stepped back.
“Tristan,” Mindy cried, walking toward me, still grinning, holding her hand out, “the youngest Martian!”
It took me a moment to realize she was right. I was younger than Luther by two months.
“Today’s your last day,” said Mindy. “How’s it feel?”
I cleared my throat and tugged my shirt down, trying to look cool and normal.
“Well . . . ,” I said, “it’s my last day here. We won’t be leaving Earth for a couple of weeks, though.”
“Oh, I know, and Tristan and Izzy will be following you every step from here on,” she said, making a promise sound like a threat. “But it is your last day at home. And it’s the last time you’ll ever see Izzy Drake.”
I wanted to tell her that she was wrong. I’d talk to Izzy on Skype every day between now and liftoff, and on the mission we’d vid-chat as often as possible once the ships were out in the black. Even when I got to Mars and we had the time delay, we’d only be twenty minutes apart. I’d see Izzy for the rest of my life.
For the rest of our lives.
I wanted to say that, but I knew this was all for the show, and the TV people didn’t want actual truth. They wanted the version of it that would keep the ratings high and keep those advertising bucks pouring in. Besides, nitpicking like that would be a dick move.
“I know,” I said, making it sound almost as heavy as it felt. “As much as I want to be part of this mission, it’s so hard to say good-bye to all of this.”
I waved to the crowd as if they were all BFFs.
They went totally nuts.
Mindy beamed her approval at me. I forced my mouth to smile back at them, thinking of Izzy and Herc and the Hart Foundation.
There was more of the interview, but it was all what you’d expect. Mindy kept asking the kinds of questions that left me having to give “heartfelt” answers. It was like being asked to bleed on cue.
Which I pretty much did.
Then it came to the part where Mindy led me up to the porch. The process was surreal. Everyone on the street fell silent again, but this time there was an energy in the air that’s hard to describe. Like the flutter in your chest on Christmas morning when all of the presents are still wrapped and the whole day is waiting for you to dig in. That kind of excitement but without the happiness. Without the joy, I suppose.
I wished I could do this with just Izzy. That was the only way it could be right.
But Mindy and her network weren’t going to let that happen. They wanted every drop of blood, every tear. There were cameras everywhere, microphones everywhere, eyes on everything we did.
Izzy stood there, frozen.
Mindy hovered like the specter of death.
It was going to be up to me to say something. I could make the moment or break it. If I screwed it up I wouldn’t be around to help Izzy clean it up. I had my escape plan all set.
She didn’t.
Damn it.
On the way over here I’d rehearsed a hundred different things to say. Cool lines, big speeches, lies that would sound good, sound bites that would burn the Internet. But as I stepped onto the porch, all of that turned to dust. I couldn’t remember my own name let alone the speeches I’d written in my head. All I could do was reach out with both hands, take hers, and say the only words that made any sense to me.
I said, “I love you, Izzy.”
Then I pulled her to me and we hugged. The crowd began applauding, then yelling, and finally screaming. I even heard a sob break from Mindy. But I didn’t care. Izzy felt so good in my arms and I had to be the biggest idiot in the history of the world. This was the end and no speeches were ever to going to make it hurt less.
We clung to each other like we were drowning.
Chapter 20
* * *
Mindy did everything humanly possible to turn our last day together into a living hell. Seriously. She arranged for Izzy and me to sit at her computer and go through our pictures. Izzy was smart enough to have made a special folder of only those photos she wanted to share. Not that we had anything spicy, but we’d both taken a lot of stupid, silly, and personal selfies.
Mindy sat us on the couch in Izzy’s living room and asked us questions from a script. It wasn’t a regular interview, with one question logically following another. These were questions designed to generate sound bites. It’s like on those competition shows where they cut away from that day’s challenge to the contestant sitting in a room—usually wearing different clothes—commenting on what was going on in their head at different stages of the process. They do it all the time on makeup effects shows, robotics shows, and all that. Something happens on the screen, but instead of a voice-over they do a quick cutaway and the person says something like “The clock’s ticking and I don’t know if I’m going to finish the gearbox in time.” And “That’s it, I think this is going to send me home.” Or “Roger is being a real jerk the whole time, and that makes me want to crush him in the final reveal.”
“Tristan, what did you feel the moment you first saw Izzy?”
“Izzy, Tristan is very handsome. How good a kisser is he?”
“Tristan, the two girls going with you to Mars are very pretty. Which one do you think would make the best match?”
“Izzy, how does it feel to know that Tristan will be in a tiny spaceship with two smart and pretty girls?”
On and on and on. No script to follow. No warning as to what was coming. Mindy said she wanted honest reactions. As we sat there, Izzy gripped my hand hard enough to crush titanium. Pretty sure I’d never have full use of that hand again.
We thought it was never going to end, and it was taking up a lot of that last day. It wasn’t fair. Sure, I get it that they bought this time from us, and that for Izzy and Herc it would make their lives better. But it was our last day, our last time together. And this wasn’t any way to say good-bye.
Finally it was Izzy’s mom who came to the rescue. She walked into the shot and stood between us and Mindy, fists on hips, back as rigid as a steel strut.
“Stop the camera,” she growled. And it was a growl, too. Even I flinched and I wasn’t the target.
“Mrs. Drake—” began Mindy, but she was cut off.
“We’ve been at this all afternoon. My daughter is tired and she needs a break. She will have a break right now.”
When Mindy tried to protest, Mrs. Drake unloaded at her. She didn’t curse, but she used what my English teacher would have called “figurative and descriptive language” to suggest what Mindy could do with her camera, her camera crew, her expensive and ridiculous clothes, and the horse she rode in on. It was really impressive. I wanted to stand up and applaud but Izzy’s death grip had tightened even more.
Mindy was formidable but when Mrs. Drake was in gear she was ten times more fierce. So Mindy pasted on a totally false smile that still managed to outshine the camera lights. “Let’s all take a break, shall we?” she said brightly, as if this was her idea, and wasn’t it wonderful that she cared so much for us kids. The cameras were still rolling, and Mindy turned and waited for Mrs. Drake to step out of the shot. “Tristan, Izzy, I know you’d like to have a few moments alone.” She made it sound kind of sleazy, like Izzy and I were going to run upstairs and tear each other’s clothes off. Then Mindy looked directly into the camera. “We’ll be back for the last good-bye between these young lovers. You don’t want to miss this.”
After three seconds, the producer said, “And we’re out.”
The lights turned off, the Drakes seemed to deflate as they exhaled their tension, Izzy finally released what was left of my hand, and Mindy—still smiling—turned to us.
“One hour,” she said flatly. Then she turned away, clearly dismissing us lesser beings as she pulled the cameraman over into a whispered conversation with the producer. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I bet it had a lot to do with editing out anything Mr. or Mrs. Drake had to say before they aired the episode. That wouldn’t be ratings gold.
As Izzy stood up her mom hugged her and kissed her forehead. Then she smiled at me and placed a warm palm on my cheek.
“The sun’s going down,” she said to me. “You know where the best view is.”
Chapter 21
* * *
The best view of the sunset was from the sloping roof outside of Izzy’s parents’ bedroom window. It faced away from the street and there was a space between two oak trees that let us see the horizon. Izzy grabbed a blanket and spread it over the shingles and we lay down on it, snuggled side by side, her head resting on my biceps, our left fingers entwined.
It was not my last sunset on Earth. I still had the last couple of weeks of training and mission prep in Amsterdam. But it was our last sunset, and this wasn’t for the cameras.
The sun seemed to want to show off just for us. It was a massive orange ball, more like a summer sun in the humid autumn sky, and there were streaks of clouds to catch the colors. Sometimes a sun goes plop over the edge of the world and there’s nothing really to look at. Other times the sun spills everything out of its paint box and goes totally nuts. This was one of those sunsets. The kind that any photo of it looks Photoshopped. So real it looked fake.
So gorgeous.
Even after the sun was down the light show kept going. Long streaks of red and gold, magenta and purple, lavender and midnight blue. I’m glad neither of us took a photo of it. Some things you want to remember in a more personal way.
Then Izzy turned toward me, rolling halfway onto my chest so she could look at me in the fading light.
“I’m sorry—” she began, but I stopped her with a kiss.
“Please don’t say that again,” I said. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”
“No, it’s this show and everything. It’s wrong.”
“Izzy, we talked about this. It’s not comfortable, and sure, a lot of it is fake, but not everything. Not the things we know are true.”
“I know . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t want this to happen, Tristan. I’ve been trying not to say it too much, but I have to. I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here. On Earth. With me. I want us to be us. Like normal people. Like we love each other and want to be together.”
I started to reply but this time she stopped me.
“Let me finish, okay?” Her eyes searched mine. I nodded. “I’m saying what I want. Me. Isolde Marie Drake. That’s what I want. I’m sixteen and if I had what I really want then we’d be together all through school. We’d go to the same college together. We’d get married, maybe, or at least live together. We’d be together. Always and forever.”
I said nothing, knowing there was m
ore.
“Sometimes I wonder what our kids would have looked like. Your eyes, my hair. They’d be a little of each of us. They’d be able to fix anything and they’d be good in school, and they’d have a sense of humor. And they’d love animals. And . . .”
Her words ran down, but I still waited.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I sometimes believe that we’ll have that life, and that those kids will be born and grow up. Not here, not in this world, but in some world. I sometimes think that that other world is the real one and this is a bizarro dimension where everything is just a little bit wrong. That this is the broken version of the world.”
The sky was darkening, the colors draining down over the edges of the clouds.
“I know it sounds stupid,” she said. “It sounds desperate.”
“No,” I said, “it doesn’t.”
She kissed my chest, right over the heart. “Tell me one thing, Tristan,” she said softly, “and don’t lie, okay? I want you to tell me the truth. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“If the Mars thing didn’t happen . . . or if your family washed out of the training . . . do you think we’d stay together? Do you think we’d stay in love? Do you think that my bizarro world could ever be real?”