Curt and I dumped our paper plates
in the garbage bag in the camper and took off in the direction of the
Vehicle Assembly Building. That was where they put the parts of
the space shuttle together before every flight. Curt noticed that
I had my trusty camera dangling from a string around my wrist.
“Make sure you take some pictures of me for Katz back home.”
Katz is Curt’s girlfriend. Her real name is
Kathy Katzenjammer, and she’s the biggest snob in school. I had
better things to do than waste film on that stuck-up airhead.
“You know something? Sight-seeing with you is
different from sight-seeing with mere mortals. You care more
about how you look in front of the attractions than the attractions
themselves. I bet this Vehicle Assembly Building is the only
thing big enough to contain your ego.”
He looked up at the massive building and
nodded. “Maybe.” Then he took off his mirror sunglasses to
admire himself in the reflection.
We went inside to check out the museum. It was
really packed and we didn’t stay very long. Curt has this thing
about being around crowds of people that don’t know who he is. If
they aren’t screaming “CURT! CURT! CURT!” at the top of their
lungs, he doesn’t want to know about them.
“Look at all these people. You’d think they’d
be sick of these things by now.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
“What are you, psychic now?”
“It’s such a typical thing for you to say,” I told
him. “I don’t have to be psychic to know how you think.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re as predictable as you are
conceited.”
“You little space cadet! I ought to launch you into
orbit!”
“Do it, then! You’ll be doing me a big favor!”
He feigned a kick. I jumped out of the way and
continued my attack. “You freaked out over Star Wars, too. Why do you
always act as if you’re above it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You always get on my case because I’m into
sci-fi. You say it’s childish when you like it yourself!”
“I never said it was childish.”
“Yes, you did. That’s all you ever say!”
“Well, what’s that got to do with anything?
You still like it anyway.”
“Lot’s of kids like sci-fi. Why do you think
they’re the most successful movies? Adults like it, too. It
isn’t childish.”
Curt looked at me. “Yeah, but we have a few
sci-fi freaks at school—Simon Chadwick and Walt Meinhocker. Total
zeroes. I just don’t want to see you turn into someone like
that.”
“Don’t worry!” Simon Chadwick and Walt
Meinhocker were the school computer nerds. You could always see
them with a stack of paperback novels under their arms and glasses an
inch thick. They had the social life of a fetus. I think
I’d commit suicide if I ever got that bad.
Curt stopped in his tracks. “Look, we hardly
ever get a chance to talk to each other any more. Pretty soon
I’ll be gone to college, and we won’t get to talk at all. So why
do you always complain whenever you open your mouth?”
“I don’t always complain!”
“Sometimes you just argue.”
“I do not!”
“You’re doing it now.”
“You’re the one that causes it,” I protested.
“You manipulate the conversation all out of shape and make it work
against me. And you don’t just do it to me, you do it to
everybody!”
“Okay, okay. So I have a fault. I guess
I’m only human after all.” A grin lit up his face.
“Conceited jerk!” Sometimes he really drives
me up the wall!
“Of course I’m conceited. I have every right
to be.”
“You make me want to throw up meals I haven’t even
eaten yet. Get out of my way!” I stormed off in another
direction.
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere that you aren’t. You make me sick!”
“Aw, come on back. You know I’m only kidding.”
“Yeah, right. You’ve got a hilarious sense of
humor.”
He started following me. “Look, I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
“Then stop being so obnoxious all the time, okay?”
“Okay, okay.”
“I’m thirsty. Buy me a soft drink.”
“You should have got one back at the camper.
Dad bought you a whole six-pack of Sprite back at the truck stop last
night.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might be getting
sick of Sprite?”
Curt looked surprised. “But that’s the only soda pop you ever
drink! We even nicknamed you after it.”
“I’m sick of that nickname, too. I’m not a
walking soda pop commercial. I have a name, you know, and it’s a
good one. Try using it some time, if you even remember it.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re trying to grow up on
me. That’s what this is all about.” He nudged me in the
shoulder and grinned from ear to ear.
“I’m fifteen years old,” I informed him.
“Other girls my age have been wearing makeup for years. I realize
I only look about twelve, but don’t you think it’s time I start to
catch up?”
“You do not look twelve,” Curt said. “I only
say that because you still play with dolls.”
“Action figures,” I corrected. “And I don’t
play with them. I only collect ’em.”
“Boys say ’action figures.’ Girls say ’dolls.’“
“These are the Eighties!”
Curt led me to a soft drink machine in the lobby of
one of the buildings. “Well, what would a contemporary young
woman like yourself like to drink now?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Diet
Sprite.”
“Very funny.”
I don’t care where he goes to college. I’m
moving all my space junk into his room when he leaves.
*
* * * *
We went back to the camper a few minutes before the
launch. Curt bought me a couple armfuls of souvenirs and helped
me carry it all back. Mom and Dad were surprised to see us
finally getting along, but they didn’t say anything.
“Thanks for buying me all of this stuff, Curt,” I
told him when we dumped it all in the camper. “I’d kiss you, but
Mom and Dad would think we were somebody else’s kids.”
“That’s okay, Spri—“ He caught himself. “I
mean, Crystal.”
We went outside. Dad asked us what we thought
of our tour. “Something else, huh?”
I looked at Curt. “Ah, you see one space
center, you’ve seen ’em all.”
Dad looked at both of us strangely. “Is that
right?”
“Actually, I expected it to be more like one of
those science fiction conventions. I didn’t see a single person
in costume the whole time we were there.”
“Well, you can’t have everything.”
“How much time left in the countdown?” Curt
asked.
Dad glanced over his shoulder at the big digital
clock. “Not long.”
Our neighbors’ radio was playing the latest Prince
song, “Sex Shuttle (Riding on my Rocket of Love).” I yelled out,
“Crank that sucker!” and Mom got all embarrassed.
The sun was getting warmer as we sat there. I
poured us some lemonade and set the cups on the table with the potato
chips and dip. The voice of Launch Control counted down the
seconds remaining in a cool, authoritative voice. It echoed
across the entire complex.
“I bet Uncle Warren’s having a good time,” I said.
“Somebody ought to,” Curt grumbled.
The crowd seemed to get more excited as the
countdown continued. Some of them were counting down out loud.
The neighbors turned off their radio when the Launch
Control spoke again. “T minus five seconds...four...go with main
engine start...two...one...zero...SRB ignition...”
Dad’s cameras began to click away as a bright flame
appeared beneath the solid rocket boosters. We were too far away
for the sound to reach us right away.
“We have lift-off...the latest mission of the space
shuttle Atlantis, at 8:35
A.M. Eastern Standard Time...”
The shuttle cleared the tower and charged into the
sky much faster than I expected. Gigantic clouds of smoke
billowed from the bottom, completely obscuring the launch pad.
People began to cheer wildly all around us. I just stood there
with my mouth open and said, “Wow...!”
The space shuttle was already gaining altitude when
the noise of the engines finally reached us. The fiery crackle
sounded a lot closer than it really was. With all of that power
going off beneath their butts, I bet the astronauts were doing more
than a little thinking about the risk they were taking at that
moment. Fantasy life aside, there was no way you could get me to
strap myself into one of those things. Rockets were for nuclear
warheads, not human beings.
Curt, however, had the opposite reaction. He
was going berserk over it, punching at the air and shouting, “YEAH!
LOOK AT THAT BABY GO! ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT! YEAH!”
I’ve never seen him get so carried away with something that wasn’t
himself.
Mom and Dad were also in awe of the sight before
us. Dad was clicking off photographs and muttering, “Beautiful!
Beautiful!” They laughed at Curt’s cheerleading when he started
jumping up and down like a little kid.
“THAT’S IT, MAN! THAT’S IT! LOOK AT THAT SUCKER GO!”
He didn’t calm down until the space shuttle’s
sizzling plume was just a tiny point of light at the top of a monstrous
column of smoke. Then he turned around and casually put his
sunglasses back on.
“That was cool,” he calmly admitted. “Let’s go
to the beach now.”
