I try, but I can’t even picture the real Cal. The one without a carefully planned video schedule and content calendar, the one who has a clear vision of his future, the one without anyone to turn to.
And I especially can’t picture any version of myself in Clear Lake, Texas.
I rest my head on Deb’s shoulder and fight back the tears. I’m a little more successful this time, so I get the courage to tell her:
“I’m really going to miss you, Deb.”
I nod toward the fire escape, and she follows me out there. We take our usual spots, me a few steps higher than her, the wrought iron crisscrossed grate I sit on hurting my ass. The wind is cutting, though it’s a warm day in spring, and my hair is a disaster.
It’s all perfect.
The sun’s almost set, but we could be out here all night for all I care.
“Everything’s going to change,” I say.
Deb releases a bark of laughter. “Is that so bad?”
She bites her lip, and her eyes glisten and puff up. I know Deb could use a change. The only reason Deb is okay now is because she’s working the register at Paper Source, which means she can avoid her family for most of the day and night, depending on the shifts she picks up.
I know she’d run if she could, but that doesn’t make it any better, for either of us. I wish I could bring her along, to have someone with me on this trip who doesn’t drive me mad like Mom and Dad do.
“It might not be so bad—god, why am I tearing up right now?” She takes a moment to rub each eye with her sleeve. “I’ll visit you, and you’ll come back when you can. You’ll end up back in Brooklyn eventually, for good, don’t you think?”
“Oh, um, probably.” I hadn’t yet thought about coming back, really, because I never thought about leaving.
Too much. “It’s too much,” I say.
“Promise me …” She points to my phone. “Promise me you won’t stop. Keep streaming all your news stories.
“You know how fickle fans are. If you take a year off, I’m afraid … once you move back here, you won’t have anything left to come back to.”
She’s right. Her words slap me across the face, waking some fire within me. I have my next decade planned out meticulously. I have the college brochures on my desk, the SAT prep courses scheduled. I knew exactly how I was getting into my career.
If I leave, even for a year, I could lose so much.
“I know it’s against the rules or whatever,” she says, “but I say post everything you can until StarWatch pries that phone from your hands.”
There’s nothing I can do to change NASA’s mind. There’s nothing I can do to stop this move. The only thing I can control is sitting in the palm of my hand.
A spark of rebellion warms my soul. It’s not the smartest move, and it could get my family in trouble, but maybe Clear Lake, Texas, has a story out there just waiting for me to uncover.
Shooting Stars
Season 1; Episode 10
EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: The Tucker family’s house has a reputation for being party central when it comes to welcoming new astronauts, honoring achievements, or celebrating holidays. In this episode, we pay a visit to Grace, Tony, Leon, and Katherine Tucker to get an inside look at their home and to learn more about the sacrifices the family’s made for the Orpheus project. (First aired 7/17/2019)
“Good evening to all our viewers. I’m Josh Farrow, and I’d like to welcome you to another new episode of Shooting Stars. Tonight I’ll be taking you on a very special tour through the Tucker family home. But first, I thought it would be nice to catch up with our astronaut family du jour: Grace Tucker, her husband, Tony, and their children, Leon and Katherine. It’s been a few months since we last got to chat, Grace, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, and I can’t believe how much has changed in such a short time. I want to thank all the viewers for their help. Without your support, and the thousands of calls and emails to Senate and Congress members … well, let’s just say we might not be sitting here right now.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself. So, last time I was here, we did a quick interview with Grace on that couch, but we only talked business. I want to know more about you all as a family. Leon, with a mother like Grace, you have a lot to live up to. However, you seem to be doing so in your own unique way. By this point we all know about your great talent for gymnastics—in fact, Tony was just telling me about your impromptu gym session today. No pressure, of course, but a few of our fans want to know, do you think we’ll be seeing you compete anytime soon?”
“I’m … not so sure about that. I’ve only been back once so far. Still looking for the right trainer. Kat dragged me to a gymnastics center in Houston earlier today, and I spent some time on the rings, hit the mat, and … face-planted a few times. I’m not quite so sure I’m competition material anymore.”
“My brother’s being a little too humble. See, back in Indiana, Leon was basically guaranteed a spot in the USA Gymnastics Elite Squad for his age group. But when we moved here, it was hard for all of us to get into the right rhythm. Plus, our new school is a lot more competitive—academically, I mean. Having said all that, we all know he’s still competition material.”
“That’s great to hear—and I love to see the supportive bond you two have. My sister and I are a year apart too, but we’ve always been far too competitive to have that kind of relationship! Before we go to break, I wanted to let viewers know we’ve actually acquired some fan-submitted videos of the Tucker kids at the gym. Our viewers can go to StarWatch.TV to see those videos. Once you’re there, read on to take a look back on how Leon’s promising career in gymnastics may have been cut short years before a potential Team USA Olympics run. As we know, he’s not the only family member whose life or career was affected by the Orpheus missions. With a full StarWatch pass, you’ll get access to a new miniseries that takes an in-depth look at the astronauts’ loved ones and the dreams they’ve left behind.”
CHAPTER 4
The weekend goes too fast. Way too fast. A few days ago, I never thought I’d leave my nook of a bedroom, with the tiny bookshelf, twin bed, and tape deck. But now, it really hits me.
I’m leaving Brooklyn.
“Look, buddy,” Dad starts.
I hate when he calls me that. So I just keep looking into my bowl of ice cream. I shuffle my feet out of habit, feeling them stick to the stone floor just slightly.
This shop’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, serving the same four ice-cream flavors. Unlike a lot of Brooklyn—new Brooklyn, at least—it’s a no-frills kind of place. Ice cream in the summer. Soup in the winter. And really, both foods usually warm my heart.
Today, though, my chest is too heavy. There are some pains even ice cream can’t fix.
“I want you to know that … I get it. I know how hard this can be. I was a military brat—my parents moved me all over the place, and I hated it every single time. I resented them for it, and I know you will too, but I hope one day you’ll understand.”
“And I hope …,” I start, not sure how to express the jumble that’s in my chest … how to say it in a way that will make him take my work seriously for once. “I hope you know what this is costing me. I know you’ve always treated my videos as a hobby, and I’m sure it looks that way for you. You don’t even watch them. So you don’t see the time I put into my reports. You don’t see the folders I have on my drive—portfolios to help me get into journalism schools after I graduate, all my research on writing scholarships to help pay for college. It took so much work to build this following, and having to abandon something like this just … sucks.”