Life on Mars by Jennifer Brown Read Free Book Online

guy than Tripp,” I said, and Tripp slugged my shoulder.
    â€œFine,” Priya said. “Let’s just go in.”
    We ducked into the tires, bent low, picking our way through the slimy puddles that collected in there, year-round. Finally we got to the end, and Priya folded herself up against a tire. I took my position in the oxidizer, and then Tripp came in last, smacking his head on the bottom of the upper tire. He sat, rubbing his forehead the same way he’d been rubbing his rump earlier.
    â€œSo? What’s the deal?” Priya asked. “Why are we here?”
    I looked at my best friends, ready to fly the pretend ship wherever I wanted it to go, and I was suddenly hit with such sadness at leaving them behind, breaking up the trio, I did the only thing I could think to do.
    I cupped my hand over my mouth.
    â€œ
Crrr
, Houston, we have a problem. I’m moving.”
    Over.
    Crrr
.

7

The Wailing Rainbow Star

    â€œArty, you need to get up,” Mom said, waking me from a deep sleep.
    â€œHuh?” I said, lifting my head from beneath the pillow. I think for as long as I live, I will never figure out how my head goes to sleep on top of a pillow every night and wakes up under it every single morning.
    â€œRise and shine!” Mom whipped open the window blinds in one loud ripping sound. Sunlight streamed in, and I shrank back and growled like a vampire.
    Speaking of vampires … (Or zombies.)
    Ever since I found out we were moving, I was doing as much neighbor watching as I was Mars watching. I almost even considered adding it as official CICM business. Clandestine Interplanetary Communication Mission and Terrifying Zombie Neighbor Observatory. CICMTZNO. At least I finally got another vowel in there.
    Every night, Mr. Death would leave his house, always carrying a trash bag in one hand and a box in the other. Always wearing a black hoodie. And always disappearing into the trees. He never came back, no matter how long I waited. I stared into the woods until my eyes were droopy and CICM’s batteries were dead from all the flashing and my feet were numb from keeping my legs crossed for so long.
    And every night I waited while Comet went out for his nightly ritual, which consisted of first tugging on Cassi’s old swing as if he were trying to kill it (because Comet was always trying to kill things that weren’t actually alive—like socks and pieces of rope), and then giving up and just peeing on it instead. He’d been peeing on that swing for years. I’d seen him do it probably a thousand times. And I would have told Cassi, but then the Brielle Brigade would come over and call me “Supernerd” or “Spacedork” and I would just—oops!—forget to mention that their sequined, shiny white outfits were sitting on Comet’s favorite toilet. Sometimes I would even find Comet and high-five his paw.
    Anyway, every night I waited until Comet got his nightly ritual over with and the house shut down and Mom came in and told me good night, and then I would get really scared because all of a sudden it was entirely too quiet for anything good to be going on.
    And still Mr. Death would never come back from the woods.
    I was beginning to think maybe Tripp had a valid theory(eleven words I never thought I’d hear myself say). Maybe Mr. Death wasn’t coming back because he had reburied himself for the night.
    Sometimes Priya’s mom and mine would get caught up talking Mom Stuff, and it would get late, and Priya would join me. When that happened, we would call Tripp over, though a few times he wasn’t home, which we both found curious. Tripp was always home. And if he wasn’t, at least one of us knew where he was. Once, we stayed up at CICM so long, we saw Tripp’s dad’s car pull into his driveway, and we saw Tripp’s silhouette spill out of the car, a duffel slung over one shoulder. Even though we called his name about a