Dare Mighty Things Read online

  I shook my head. “I won’t.”

  “Good.”

  “You . . . ,” I began, forcing speech around the lump in my throat. “Thank you. For all your advice. For looking out for me.” The words I was saying weren’t the right ones. They weren’t nearly enough. If I’d just had more time to think, I could’ve done this good-bye so much better. “You and Emilio . . . you’re like the first real friends I’ve had.”

  She smiled sadly. “That’s like the sweetest and saddest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Then she nudged me with her shoulder. “Right back at you.”

  “When . . .” I took a breath to steady myself. “When do you leave?”

  Mitsuko looked hopelessly back at her suitcase. “Now. Whenever I finish packing. I want to get it over with, you know? Like a Band-Aid. Rip it off and get out of here and on a plane home. But I can’t seem to concentrate. I just keep . . . standing here . . .”

  “I got it,” I said. I picked up one of her shirts and started folding. “I’ll help you.”

  Mitsuko gave me a teary smile. “One of the best, Cass.”

  When she was finally packed—I didn’t realize how many skin-care products that girl had brought—Mitsuko said, “Don’t tell the others. Not right away. Wait till I’ve left, okay? Wait as long as you can.”

  I nodded, swallowed hard. “You’ll write me? Promise?”

  She smiled and tousled my hair like I was a kid. “You know it.”

  It was all I could do just to say, “Thanks. Thank you.”

  She smiled, tears spilling into the creases in her cheeks. “Good luck.”

  I shook my head. “Do you . . . do you want me to walk with you?”

  “No. I’ll be okay.”

  One last hug and she walked out of the room and down the hall. Then she crossed the red paint, through a door I was holding strong not to follow.

  I sat on my bed in my empty room—my private room—and looked at each empty bed. The one beside me, which had belonged to Giselle for one night only. The places where Hanna and Mitsuko had slept and complained and studied. How had all of this happened in only a few weeks?

  I’d expected to outlast them all, and I had. I’d had so much hubris. That I didn’t need friends or want them.

  I’d been wrong. And not for the first time.

  If I made the cut—if I, somewhere down the line, was launched into space on a journey that would take me out of the sight of Earth, it would be the most alone I’d ever be. I’d have to be okay with that. With being alone. Maybe forever.

  And it was harder now than I remembered it being.

  A couple of hours later, probably around dinnertime, someone knocked on the door. Emilio, come to check on us, since we hadn’t shown up for dinner. Only there wasn’t an “us” anymore.

  “Hey.” His face was carefully neutral as he peered into the room. “Is Mitsuko here?”

  Then I realized he had a backpack on his shoulder. “Oh my God. You too?”

  “Too?”

  “Mitsuko left two hours ago. She dropped out. Voluntary withdrawal.”

  He covered his face with one hand. “Oh, shit, Cass, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He dragged his hand down his face, cupping his mouth. “Please don’t hate me. But I was just coming to say good-bye. I’m going home.” At the look on my face, he smiled. “It’s okay. It’s what I want. And once I’m gone, you’ll hardly remember I was here.”

  “Liar.”

  “Hey, buddy. Don’t cry. I’m not, see?” And he didn’t seem upset. Tired, maybe. But there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I get to go home and see my folks. It’s good news.”

  “Not for me.” Then I remembered. “That night on the track—you were saying good-bye, weren’t you? I just didn’t realize it.”

  He gave a sheepish look and a shrug. “I knew I wasn’t cut out for this place, but that shitstorm in the SLH just confirmed it. I guess Suko felt the same. It’s not like I’m giving up on my dream, either. Turns out, this just wasn’t it.”

  I put a hand over my mouth and nodded. Tried to rein myself in.

  “Just like her to forget to say good-bye to me.” He took hold of my shoulders, studied me. “Come on, kid. Buck up. Look on the bright side—you’re down two competitors.”

  I shook my head. “I never thought of you as competition.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He grinned. And as I tried to explain myself, he waved his hands to brush it off. “It’s been fun, up until that last part. But I’d break my ribs all over again if I had to. For you, and all the others. Well, except maybe for Boris.”

  “I’m going to miss you.” It sounded so lame, and yet I had to say it, had to, because when was I going to get another chance? This was the good-bye with Mitsuko all over again. “So much. You don’t even know. You’re . . .” I struggled to find a single word that could sum him up, and instead the only thing that came to me was, “Honestly, you’re the first genuinely good guy I’ve ever met. You know, I didn’t come here looking to make friends. But I’m really glad I met you.” I swallowed around a growing lump in my throat. “You . . . you make me want to be a better person.”

  Emilio seemed taken aback, his face full of some emotion I couldn’t read. And then he touched his chest, over his heart, and motioned me toward him with his other hand. “Come ’ere, Cass.”

  I took a step closer cautiously, and he hugged me. I hugged him back automatically, being careful of his broken rib. My heart thudded, thinking this was all happening way too fast. I wasn’t prepared for him to disappear, too.

  He kissed my cheek before pulling away, a gesture so sweet and brotherly it sparked tears in my eyes. “Good luck, buddy. I’ll see you when you get back. From outer space.”

  Only Emilio could make me laugh when I was trying not to cry.

  He smiled, backed up into the hallway. I followed him to the doorway but no farther. I watched him walk down the hall, as he held his hand up in a wave. And then he turned his back to me and headed for the exit.

  I watched him walk away because watching was all I could do. I waited for him to stop or turn around, but he didn’t, of course.

  I watched my last true friend and ally disappear through the red door.

  Then I went back to my room. Closed the door. Sat on my bed and surveyed the empty space around me. I was truly alone now.

  I needed to get used to it.

  TWENTY

  “WE’VE DECIDED TO move up the selection,” Krieger said. “To today.”

  Pierce and Krieger dropped that news on us before anyone had even finished breakfast. Four of us sat at a table together: Luka, me, Kendra, and Anton. Pratima and Boris hadn’t showed. Kicked out or left voluntarily, I’d never know.

  “When you’re finished here, go back to your rooms and pack. We’ll call you when it’s time.” Pierce gave us each one last look. “Either way, you’ll be on a plane out of here by tonight.”

  I packed my bag feeling robotic and distant from everything. With everyone else gone, it felt eerie to be in my room alone, to walk through an empty hallway.

  They made us wait in a hall outside the auditorium where we’d convened the very first day. It was fitting—ending where we began.

  I glanced at the faces beside me. Kendra, her stare burning holes into the opposite wall. Anton, tapping his toe. Luka was a marble statue, unreadable. Why should he worry? He was a shoo-in.

  Not once had I been ranked number one. I’d been so sure of myself—so sure that I was the best of the best. Why wouldn’t I think that? I’d spent most of my life being number one. Selection into the top private high school in the city? Impressed the pants off that selection committee. First-chair violin, all-state orchestra? I threw myself into practice. I neglected social events, hobbies. I earned my place. A coveted internship at NASA? Please. My father may have put in a good word for me, but I hadn’t needed nepotism. I’d worked for it, for everything. And I’d always gotten what I wanted because of it.

  But this was di
fferent.

  Luka Kereselidze was the first and only obstacle I hadn’t been able to overcome. And I couldn’t even hate him for it. He could have turned out to be an ass, but he’d never said an unkind word to me. He’d been cool under pressure in the SLH. He’d been a good guy in the wilderness. He’d been almost, in a way, my friend. He’d earned my respect, at least.

  I couldn’t hate him. Even if he was about to be crowned victor over me.

  But then again, who knew? Luka hadn’t aced everything. He’d never gotten his brain-wave patterns right. He hadn’t really made friends the way Anton and I had. I’d saved his life in wilderness survival. And I’d clawed my way up from the bottom of the ranks. Some people liked underdogs.

  But only one of us could be number one.

  They called us individually onto the stage of the auditorium. Anton first. He was in there for maybe fifteen minutes, and then my name came over the loudspeaker.

  I rose, my legs shaking. Even if I was wrong, and all my dreams were about to be smashed into smithereens, I would survive.

  Probably.

  I walked where they directed me, onto the stage, where our instructors sat behind a panel with the colonel, Ms. Krieger, and Felix. All eyes were on me.

  Anton wasn’t there. They must have taken him out a side door.

  I stood in front of the people who would decide my fate and choked down bile, hoping I wouldn’t throw up in front of them. I kept my eyes on the wood floor at my feet, concentrating on each breath. The house lights were on, casting harsh shadows on everyone’s expression.

  I tried to find a sympathetic face on the panel. Ms. Krieger was incapable of frowning; I couldn’t trust her. Bolshakov looked severe and judgmental. Jeong had a nervous half smile on her face. Dr. Copeland was impassive, though her eyes were kind. Shaw gave me a reassuring smile.

  “Cassandra Gupta.” The colonel spoke my voice like it was heavy, made of stone.

  I didn’t know if I was supposed to speak. My gaze locked on his square, grizzled face.

  “Your performance has been steadily improving since you got here. You began near the bottom of the pack, but quickly rose to the increasing challenges. Your classroom performance was impressive. Your physical endurance is commendable. Your dedication is to be praised. You showed good judgment in the face of stress, adequate social skills, and the best mental control we saw among the candidates. You are well rounded and impressively committed for being the youngest. However, you were not the strongest candidate overall.”

  I felt my knees buckle.

  The colonel met my eyes and seemed to smile without breaking his stony facade.

  Ms. Krieger smiled brightly, like I wasn’t hearing the worst news I’d ever gotten in my life. “All is not lost, Cassie! We’ve chosen you as the alternate.” She seemed to hear how weak that sounded and overcompensated by pasting on an even broader smile. Her hand swept over the rest of the panel, gesturing to my instructors. “You already know your future crewmates: Logan Shaw, flight engineer; Dr. Harper Copeland, medical officer; Michele Jeong, copilot; and Dominic Bolshakov, who will be your crew commander. All of them are experienced astronauts. We had our crew help choose their newest member, and they all spoke highly of your abilities.”

  I nodded. Plastered on a grateful smile.

  “You’ll train with them for the next few months in preparation for launch. And then, we’ll see! Things happen, Cassie. You never know. You may yet go into space.”

  Her cheerfulness grated. I was getting the consolation speech.

  I’ll never go into space. I’ll train with them and study with them, and then they’ll go without me.

  This was almost worse than not being chosen at all.

  They were waiting for a response. My mouth was dry as gravel, but I murmured the expected response and hoped it didn’t sound like garbled nonsense.

  My eyes scanned one last time over my teachers. Copeland didn’t show any emotion, but Shaw’s sad smile and misty eyes behind his glasses almost broke me, right there in front of everyone.

  Shaw stood and offered me his hand to shake. I wasn’t aware of moving toward the panel, but somehow I found myself shaking hands with my instructors. “We’ll see you soon,” Shaw said. “Harper, Michele, and I are very proud of you.”

  “Admirable performance,” Copeland said, her voice grave but approving.

  “You did well,” Jeong said, her short black bob tucked neatly behind her ears. “Looking forward to working with you.”

  I found myself looking into Dominic Bolshakov’s steel gaze, frozen. He said nothing, but nodded once, slow.

  I was excused.

  I walked off that stage as fast as I could on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. Someone backstage led me into a room with a digital display board and a few chairs around a conference table and a sofa, like some kind of greenroom.

  I pressed my forehead against the dusty floral wallpaper and closed my eyes.

  Not the strongest candidate.

  FAILURE. That’s what it meant. That’s what I was.

  I wanted to punch something. But if I damaged my hand, I’d probably be disqualified from training. So I paced, uselessly. After all that? Everything that had happened, it had been for nothing. I’d let everyone down. I’d never get into space now.

  There was a pillow on the couch. I snatched it up and hurled it at the door.

  The door swung open, revealing Luka, just as the pillow hit the door frame beside his head. He looked at me quizzically.

  “Of course it’s you,” I said, throwing up my hands. “Of course.”

  “I suppose I am lucky it was only a pillow,” he said, coming inside and closing the door. There was a moment of silence as he regarded me. “If it’s any consolation, I am sorry.”

  I grimaced. It wasn’t his fault he was perfect. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just—second place. You’re going for sure. I’m just here in case you get the flu. Which you won’t. Because look at you.”

  I collapsed into a chair and buried my face in my hands.

  Luka knelt in front of me. Pried my hands off my face. His steady eyes bore into mine as my spine straightened at his nearness. “Why are you being so hard on yourself? They would not have picked you if they thought you could not do this. You and I are going to Florida together to train for a mission the likes of which has never been attempted before. That in itself is an honor.”

  “You don’t understand,” I said, too angry to think about how weird it was that Luka was holding my hands in his. “This was my first and only chance, okay? They don’t do missions like this anymore. Maybe this is the last one they’ll ever do. Coming this close and not making it? Almost worse than not making it at all.” I ran out of steam, pulling my hands out of his to secure my ponytail, which had come loose. “And if the funding falls through, neither of us will be going.”

  Luka didn’t waver. “The funding won’t fall through.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you know?”

  The door opened again, and this time our instructors filed through. Surprised, both Luka and I stood. They seemed as confused as we were to see them.

  Bringing up the rear were Pierce and Crane. The room was now full; we were all facing Pierce and Crane with matching expressions of expectant confusion.

  I wavered on my feet, exhausted. So much had happened in the past couple of days, it felt like a lifetime. Luka shot me a sidelong glance, concerned. I ignored him.

  The colonel cracked his knuckles, like he wasn’t happy with what he was about to say. “Due to what happened two days ago during the SLH simulation, it has been decided that in the interest of safety, our timetable will be moved up. I’ve been given permission to brief you all on the particulars of the mission we’re calling Project Adastra.” His gaze, for the first time, didn’t make me want to crawl into a hole. Then he turned and locked the door, trapping us all inside, and I suppressed a shiver. “You’re about to learn what few others in the
world know. I suggest you all take a seat.”

  I felt a spark of anticipation. Finally! We all obeyed, taking seats around the table, while Pierce and Crane remained near the door.

  The colonel hit a few buttons on the table. The room’s lights dimmed and a field of stars glowed to life in the air above our heads. “As we all know, life on Earth is fragile. Climate change is dramatically altering our daily reality. The growing problem of human infertility could be another symptom of a planet that is losing its ability to support life. We aren’t sure when the tipping point will come. Some experts say it already has. If that’s the case, humanity needs to find alternative solutions if we want to survive.”

  My muscles tightened in anticipation, urging him silently to get on with it. Nobody in this room needed anything spelled out to us.

  He took a moment to survey the room. “Brace yourselves, everyone. Our goal on this mission is to send humans beyond our solar system.”

  There was a collective, quiet intake of breath. I’d been expecting something like this, but nothing could have prepared me for actually hearing it.

  Unprecedented was selling this short.

  The general field of stars hovering over the center of the table organized itself into our Milky Way galaxy. We zoomed in to the familiar Sol system, to the blue marble of Earth. The stars became our own night sky, and we all looked up.

  “Your destination is the star system of Kepler-186.” The screen zeroed in on a previously dark square of sky, and a dim sparkle of light magnified on the screen. We zoomed in, farther and farther, until a blurry white dot enlarged on the screen. “Kepler-186 is an M-class red dwarf star approximately four hundred and ninety light-years from Earth and believed to harbor at least five planets. One of the planets, designated Kepler-186f, has a mass similar to Earth’s and is within the star’s habitable zone. Ladies and gentlemen, the objective of Project Adastra is to discover the habitability of the planet 186f, and perhaps more importantly . . .” His voice slowed, as though unwilling to speak the words out loud. “. . . whether life already exists there.”