The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper Read Free Book Online Page B

ready for it. NASA’s been big on bringing back the retro appeal.”
    He rolls his eyes briefly, but his smirk says it all: it may be over the top, but it’s worth it.
    The town’s not awful. It’s even kind of cute. There’s a different kind of history here. Modern history. Brooklyn has homes that date back 150 years—even our apartment had the original hardwood floors from the early 1900s.
    We pull up to our house, and I take in the pristine lawn, which fades into the precisely cut bushes lining the house. It’s been so recently painted you can see a glossy shine. The windows sparkle; the mailbox has our last name etched into it.
    There’s something so real about this place, and it counters everything I got from the park. Seeing the pictures, reading the stories, it all seemed perfect.
    And this kind of … is perfect. I watch my dad take it all in, his smile gone—his expression replaced with a look of pure wonderment.
    If I’m feeling this way, I can only imagine the thoughts going through his head.
    “As I’m sure you know, we’ve got a little … media problem here,” Brendan says as he unlocks the door to our new house and steps inside. “Mostly local news, people looking for anything to trend. A few amateurs who want to sell footage to StarWatch, which is a whole other beast you’ll need to prepare for. But there are strict rules, even for StarWatch: They get full filming rights inside the astronauts’ houses—within reason, of course—and at the space station, but at the end of the day, it’s your home. You decide whether to let them in, keep them outside, or kick them out.”
    Brendan and I share a smile, and there’s a strange comfort in having clear boundaries and a little bit of control over our new life.
    “So why isn’t anyone here now?” Dad asks, disappointment hitting his face. Like he’s actually looking forward to getting assaulted by the press.
    Brendan laughs. “NASA’s holding a press conference now and mentioned important updates , so every camera in the city is there. The media team tricked them into thinking we’re announcing the final astronaut, basically, so they didn’t swarm you right away. Don’t worry, we’ll let you settle in first.”
    I hear my mom’s sigh of relief from here. When our eyesmeet, a quirk of a smile hits her face. Even if Dad doesn’t end up on a flight, this is going to be a wild ride.
    “Does everyone who works at NASA have this problem?” I ask.
    “Well, I don’t. Since the news isn’t very excited about the soil samples I work on.” He chuckles, and ends with a high-pitched huff. “But the astronauts have to deal with it, all of them. They’re— you’re —the interesting ones.”
    “I mean, soil can be interesting, I guess?”
    “My team thinks so, but I doubt the general public does. Not yet at least.” He shrugs. “Rovers send back a ton of great data, but they can only do so much—we’ll get the first samples back after the Orpheus VI flyby, where we can do real tests, study the soil in a lab, that stuff.”
    If there’s one thing I know about the “general public,” it’s that no self-professed media pro actually knows what the public is interested in. Sometimes trial and error is worth a shot, but it’s not surprising StarWatch would choose glamour and prestige over … dirt.
    After following him inside, I take my first refreshing breath. The cool air makes my skin prickle all over, in the best way. The place is sterile, new. Foreign.
    My dad paces around the living room, where a brand-new television sits on a midcentury-modern sideboard. A light-colored plush couch faces a retro coffee table flanked by two accent chairs.
    Okay, this is a pretty cool house.
    The whole place balances vintage personality with modern appliances. A record player sits on a bookshelf, with a collection of vintage records at its side. They really went all in on this retro thing. If you replaced that record player with a tape deck, I might