Chapter Eight
As I wait to load my bag into our “shuttle,” I will my heart to stop beating so hard.
Really, it’s a mixture of nerves and excitement. We’re about to set out, and our little adventure to save the library will officially begin. There is so much riding on this being a success. So many kids whose lives will be impacted—in good or bad ways—depending upon our ability to complete each objective before the six weeks are up. We can’t mess this up. I won’t let us.
The increase in my heart rate may also have something to do with the fact Roman is standing right behind me.
While Angie works on fitting her bag, which is clearly double the size we were instructed to bring, into the back of the fleet van we’re being transported in, I strike down the urge to glance over my shoulder at Roman. It’s not even that he’s standing close to me, because he’s not. Each time I’ve taken a step forward, he’s remained rooted to his spot on the asphalt like some silent sentry. But among Angie’s grunts and curses and the excited chatter coming from Jordan and Simone, who are already strapped in and ready to go, I know he’s looking at me. I feel his eyes on me. On my hair, my back, my ass where the extra helpings of enchiladas migrate to.
It’s some special sensory superpower I gained after noticing Roman’s reaction to seeing me in workout clothes. I’m painfully aware that with every step I take or each time I shift my weight to the other hip, he’s watching the movement. It’s making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and grating on my nerves.
I don’t want to, nor can I afford to, feel any kind of excitement from his attention. We may not be at school, but I’m still his vice principal, and if that isn’t reason enough to ignore whatever is going on between us, I also don’t trust his reason for joining the simulation. If only turning off your attraction to someone could be as easy as flipping a switch. My brain knows he’s the enemy and will most likely try to ruin this whole experience for everyone, but my body’s response to his nearness says, Okay, and?
I reach up to the top of my head and unwrap the strands of braids I used in lieu of a scrunchie to keep it all in a bun. The braids tumble down my back like some physical barrier between me and his gaze. There, no more hair-raising awareness.
Angie gets her bag situated and clears out. There’s not much space left when I step up to the doors of the van. Duffel bags and containment boxes filled with supplies and uniforms have pretty much taken up any extra room. With a little maneuvering, though, I manage to get my bag loaded and head in to grab a seat.
“Do y’all think the whole school will be watching the livestream?” Simone asks when I step into the van.
“I don’t know about the school, but my family will,” Jordan says, trying to get comfortable as he’s somehow landed between Angie and Simone.
I’m not pleased to see the last row will be just Roman and me, but when Jordan tries stretching his legs, with a “Nuh-uh, no manspreading,” I keep it moving.
“I know at least half the teachers will be watching,” Angie then says. “They told me.”
As if I don’t have enough to stress about. Every move we make—every single one of our interactions and reactions—will be recorded for all to see. I want to make my family proud. I want to inspire the students. I want to show Superintendent Watts, who’s given me so much of her time and wisdom, that she made the right choice in backing me. But I’m scared. If we lose, my failure will live on forever. I’ll only be known as the not-good-enough Rogers child.
In the middle of my downward spiral, Roman steps into the van.
“I hope you don’t mind this here,” he says to me as he sets his bag between us and sits down on the right side of the row. “There’s no more room in the back.”
With him so close, I have no choice but to notice how delectable he smells. It’s this kind of spicy scent with notes of chocolate, which I freakin’ love. He’s wearing blue coveralls like the rest of us since he was finally able to find a size that wasn’t too tight, though it’s still snug on his chest and biceps. But what really gets me is the fact that he had the nerve to show up with a fresh haircut and trimmed beard. He’s here looking all fresh and sexy, and I can’t in good conscience enjoy it knowing he has ulterior motives.
I look at his hand resting on top of his bag. I wonder just what he’ll do to try and stop us. What exactly were Principal Major’s directives?
“Hey,” Roman says to me. “You good?”
So, building trust. Look at that fake concern trying to throw me off my game before we even get there.
“Just peachy,” I say.
Roman’s eyes search mine, but I turn to the window before he can find anything to tip him off that I’m onto him. This isn’t like school, where we put aside everything in the morning then have our silent competition once the kids arrive. Here, the stakes are much, much higher, and for me the battle starts now.
I spend the ride alternating between being only too mindful of Roman’s every shift, sigh, and slight snore and napping myself, as well as trying to mentally prepare for what we have in store.
The goal of the simulation is to understand how people will cope with life on Mars. Similar to how astronauts stay on board the International Space Station then switch out, the habitat, or “Hab,” we’re arriving at on “Mars” has been occupied by other teams before us. It will be the job of our crew to complete certain objectives that will keep everything running at top performance for those who come after us. And keep our sanity in such close quarters when we only have one another to rely on.
“And we’re here,” our facilitator announces seven hours later. Considering it would take about nine months to get to the planet Mars, a half day’s drive across Texas isn’t so bad.
The van slows as we approach a guardhouse, and I know somebody is playing with me, ’cause ain’t no way the building they’re taking us to looks just like a football stadium. I don’t know whether to laugh, knock on wood, or pray to kingdom come.
Rather than clear-cut corners and a flat roof, this structure is a long, imposing oval with a closed domed ceiling. There are no windows or anything else on the exterior that would indicate what’s inside, which makes the single door that I can see look tiny, and a bit ominous, compared to the building’s size.
“Welcome to the red planet,” the facilitator continues once the guard raises the rail for us to drive forward. “You all have come a long way, and now you’ve finally made it! As you know, the air on Mars is toxic. You’d die in less than two minutes without a proper suit and oxygen.”
Simone gasps out, “Oh no!” and Angie cuts her an annoyed look that says, really?
Angie has been quite hostile the whole drive. Rolling her eyes and huffing, throwing in something about Mexico every now and then. Complaining when poor Jordan crossed their invisible line and allowed his elbow to hang too far over on her side. I don’t know what’s going on, but if I have to worry about both Roman and Angie, this doesn’t bode well for our team at all.
After the van parks in front of the building, our facilitator undoes her seat belt and turns her body as much as she can to face us. “As stated before, even though you all aren’t trained astronauts, we believe in your abilities to succeed. Think of this experiment like a game of strategy,” she says like she’s letting us in on a secret. “It’s all mental. It’s normal to feel like you’re overwhelmed or want to go home, so try to focus on what you all came here for. Remember you’re a team, working together to reach a common goal.”
When she says common goal , I can’t help but cut my eyes to Roman. He catches me and frowns. I turn away before he can say anything and continue listening, leaning forward as the facilitator gives us more information.
“First and foremost, this simulation is for education, to study how humans will survive when we finally call other planets home—it’s not reality TV. The bedrooms are not monitored by cameras or microphones, so consider those safe spaces.” Her voice becomes quieter. “Neither is the computer server room. There’s no camera, and the microphones only pick up the sound of the fans. In the greenhouse, cameras are on, but no microphones, again due to the fans. The last blind spot is in the left corner, right next to the lab station.” Like the MVP she is, she nods at us once, then goes back to her regular voice. “All right, let’s get this thing started. First things first—space suits!”
We practiced helping one another get into our space suits at the orientation, but both the facilitator and driver help us today to save time. Then we load the two crates full of supplies onto a metal dolly, and in what seems like no time at all we’re standing at the door.
A sudden spike of adrenaline sends my stomach tumbling and my limbs tingling. I’m really doing this. I’m about to spend six weeks locked up with my work colleagues. With Roman.
I haven’t felt this nervous since I went away for college. I left behind my family and all that I knew to brave it out in a different world. At least then, home was half a day’s drive away and leaving only meant sacrificing a weekend.
With the world I’m about to step into now, leaving or losing focus will mean giving up the library. But I won’t let that happen. I straighten my shoulders, remembering how good it felt to walk across the stage and receive my diploma. Walking out of this simulation six weeks from now will feel just as good because not only will we walk out knowing that we’ve saved the library, but we’ll be heroes. Not to mention how good it will feel flaunting my win in front of Principal Major’s face.
“Okay, astronauts,” the facilitator says. This time her voice comes through little earpieces we put in. She gives us a rundown of going in and opening the hatch for the Hab. How once we go through the door, the only time we’ll come out is when the simulation is over, or if we “expire” early.
“You’re on your own from here,” she finishes.
“Yeah, let’s do this!” Jordan says, pumping a fist in the air. He seems to be the only one of us not having second thoughts.
The facilitator swings the door open and takes a step back, then we walk through.
Jordan goes in first, pulling the dolly behind him. Simone follows, then Angie, Roman, and me.
“Wow,” Simone says as we take it all in.
Wow, indeed.
It may look like a stadium on the outside, but on the inside it’s like we’ve literally left Earth and been transported to the red planet. Because indeed, red is all around. There’s hard, flat sand under our feet, but throughout the stadium the ground swells with hills of varying heights. This place reminds me of pictures I’ve seen of the Mojave Desert, except there’s no vegetation and the panels above project an afternoon sky in a pink hue tinged with red, making it feel like I’m wearing tinted sunglasses.
As we take it all in, the door shuts behind us with an air of finality, and now there really is no turning back.
“You guys,” Jordan says. “This is…amazing.”
He walks forward as if pulled by a string and we follow after him, heading toward our settlement.
“Does anyone smell that?” Simone asks.
I take in a few sniffs. “I smell something ,” I say. “But I’m not sure what it is.”
We keep walking, getting used to the way our big blocky boots drag through the sand, toward our settlement at the north end of the stadium. Soon we approach a tall metal antenna, some freestanding solar panels, and our Hab. At first glance, it looks like four large tents fused together to make an apartment. But as we get closer, I see that while they look like tents, the exterior is more solid. Clearly not as strong as brick, but not thin like polyester either.
When we get close enough, Jordan abandons the dolly and jogs to the Hab, running his gloved hand over the exterior. Once he’s done, a white streak is left, and I realize the Hab isn’t red, but is covered in the dust surrounding us.
“Look, this was made from a 3D printer!” Jordan exclaims.
“If it caves in on us while we’re sleeping, I’m suing everybody,” Angie mutters.
While Jordan’s busy spinning in a slow circle, Roman is the one to open the hatch and usher everyone inside. We enter a narrow, tube-like hall where we have to wait two minutes while the pressure stabilizes. It’s a tight fit with all five of us, our bags, and the dolly, and somehow I end up right next to Roman. His bag and arm hang by my hip and I hardly dare to breathe so I don’t push against him more than necessary. When I make the mistake of looking at him and we make eye contact through our helmets, warmth spreads through my chest, quickly followed by the word scandal! and now also traitor! flashing in my mind. I turn away just as the second door unlocks and we’re finally able to see our new temporary home.
As soon as we step in, everyone starts taking their helmets off. I suck in a deep breath of relief to be away from Roman but instantly regret it.
“Oh God,” I say, covering up my nose. “What is that?!”
Angie covers half her face with her hand. “It smells like rotten eggs.”
“Yo, no way! Can y’all believe how much thought went into each detail?” Jordan says. He tilts his head back and sniffs at the air like something good is in the oven, and I don’t understand it. Is his excitement at being here somehow suppressing his olfactory system? “Mars has large compounds of hydrogen sulfide, so yeah, it definitely smells like rotten eggs. Don’t worry, we’ll get used to it soon enough.”
Angie shakes her head, eyes glaring as she focuses on Jordan. “I can’t believe you really got me out here breathing in death! I’d rather be trapped in a room with fifty musty kids than deal with this.”
Jordan cringes as Angie stalks off behind one of the open doors.
“What was that about?” I ask. Jordan won’t meet my gaze, so I look at Simone and Roman. Neither of them has answers.
“Maybe she’s tired and cranky from the long drive,” Simone offers with a shrug.
“How about we all get unpacked and settle in,” Jordan says. “After, we can meet back out here and go over a game plan.”
Everyone agrees. Simone and I follow after Angie, who’s found her way to one of the bedrooms. The room is round, with no windows, though there are LED light strips along the bottoms of the walls, and the dome has a sunroof that looks like it’s able to open and close to let more light in. There are four beds extending from the walls like little pods, each with half of the full-size mattress embedded in the wall and the other half sticking out.
Angie has claimed one of the middle beds, so I walk to the first bed on the right side of the room and set my bag down. Now that I’m closer, I see that LED strips also line the wall right above the bed. The headboard and footboard are wide enough to place books or other knickknacks on, and there is a screen that can be pulled down for more privacy. There is also a journal on the pillow. In orientation they mentioned how we would be expected to answer daily questions about our activities and the food we eat and record our overall feelings and mood while here. All designed to understand how humans will operate on Mars and to help us keep our sanity.
“Did anyone else find it hard to decide what to bring?” Simone asks from her bed. “It was so hard packing up my life in just eight pounds.” Among a few other items, she pulls out framed pictures, books, undergarments, and a purple candle. She catches me eyeing the candle and smiles sheepishly. “I know we’re not supposed to have anything flammable. I don’t plan on lighting it or anything though. It was a Mother’s Day gift, and my kids insisted I bring it. Nothing beats a little aromatherapy when you’re stressed.” She closes her eyes and takes in a lungful of the candle’s scent before placing it on the headboard right next to a framed photo of her family.
“I should have thought of that,” I say. She doesn’t have to explain herself to me. I’m here to win, not act as anyone’s boss or enforce all rules.
I look at Angie, who’s spilled the entire contents of her bag onto the bed. I can see why it was so big. She’s got a load of protein bars, an adult coloring book and markers, cards, dominoes, hair products, and…
I gasp. “Angie, why did you bring an industrial-size box of condoms?” And who is she planning to use them with?
Angie huffs and tosses the box behind her. It lands in the middle of the floor. “Do not even get me started,” she says. “I specifically asked Jordan if this simulation was like those reality shows I watch where they have different celebrities and athletes trying to survive different challenges, and he said yes. I assumed there would be some football players joining us. I freakin’ gave up going to Mexico to be here.”
I bite down on my lip to keep from laughing as she slams a fuchsia bra down on her bed. That finally explains the animosity she’s had toward Jordan. He was determined to make it here. It makes me wonder if he does actually realize that Roman is most likely a plant sent by Principal Major but chose to overlook it.
I turn back to my bed and begin unpacking my things. Undergarments, a picture of Sheba, and books. “Wait a minute,” I say under my breath. One of these books does not belong.
“Ooh, that’s a pretty cover. What book is that?” Simone asks.
“Uh…” I consider stuffing the book back in my bag, but it’s already too late.
Simone crosses the small distance to my bed to see what I’m holding. “ That Time I Got Drunk and Yeeted a Love Potion at a Werewolf .” She snatches it from my hand with the biggest smile stretching across her face. “I never took you for a werewolf lover.”
I put my hands against my burning cheeks. “I’m really not.”
As in, not just a werewolf lover. I love all the creatures. All the shifters, dragons, and aliens. My bookshelf at home is completely different than the one in my office at school.
“My sister must have put that in there,” I say. “She loves to play practical jokes on everyone.” No wonder she looked so pleased when we said our goodbyes this morning. I’d told her when I read the first book in the series, so normally it would have been a treat for her to surprise me with the second one. But not in front of my colleagues. There are some things they don’t need to know about the vice principal.
“Aww. My siblings and I all have a decade gap, so we don’t have tight relationships,” Simone says. “If you don’t want to read the book, I’ll happily take it off your hands.”
I stare at the book a few more seconds. I do really want to read it. “Sure.”
Simone must read the longing in my gaze, because she giggles. “I promise I’ll give it back before we leave.”
“I love that book,” Angie says, coming to join us. “Not only is that Felix a werewolf, but he has tentacles.” She fans herself.
I am going to kill Camille for this.
I turn back to my bed and work on putting up my clothes and trying to make my pod feel homey. When it’s time to meet the guys in the common area, I watch Angie step right over the box of condoms she left on the floor like they’re not even there. Like they don’t draw as much attention as one of those yellow signs they put on a wet floor. And I wonder who, if anyone, will end up using them.