名稱：snow day in space
內容簡介：
Snow Day in SpaceBy Roxanne Werner
Art by Craig Stapley

The clock must be frozen. Or maybe the space station fell into a time warp and I’m trapped in my math lesson forever. The truth is that time doesn’t fly when you’re waiting for something, and I’ve waited for a friend for a long time.

Crackle.“The radius...”

Crackle.Static swirls across the holo-video screen, burying my teacher’s image in a blizzard of white noise that my dad and I nicknamedsnow.

A voice comes over the loudspeakers. “Magnetic storm.

Communications down. Remain in shielded areas. Technicians report to...”

The announcement drones on, but I don’t listen. Asnow day.Hurray for space weather!

Eleven years ago, my birth on Space Station Alpha made history. I was the first human born off-planet. My parents knew just what to name me—Jemison Mae, after Mom’s hero, Mae Jemison, the first black female astronaut. Except I feel more like a science experiment than a hero.

It didn’t take doctors long to discover I was different. Sure, on the outside I look normal. Just your average 11-year-old girl. ButinsideI flunk every test. My bones are too thin and my muscles are too weak. It seems humans don’t grow well in the low-gravity, antiseptic halls of space stations. Not well enough to survive on Earth, anyway. I am sentenced to life in space.

After they figured this out, no other kids were allowed on board the space station. But new studies show that older children won’t be harmed by a short stay. Today, a shuttle will arrive carrying a new technician and her family, including a girl my age. My first friend, Vianna. Freed from class by the snow day, I race down the corridor to message her.

Spending 11 years on the station has its advantages. I know more about it than anyone else does, even the commander. Other than my parents and me, most people spend one or two years here, then return to Earth. I’ve explored every inch of the place and uncovered some useful items.

When I was five, one of the techs showed me the Space Alpha Text booth, or S.A.T. “Practice your letters on this, Jem,” he said. “No one uses it now that we have the holo-video.” The small room held a keyboard and the outdated communications system. I sat for hours fascinated by the way the screen lit up as I tapped the keys. The booth became my secret hideout, a place to disappear.

Now I shut the door and slide behind the keyboard. Vianna and I have been exchanging messages for months. We’re not allowed to tie up the holo-video system with chatter, but I got the S.A.T. going after looking through old manuals. I tap in my code and read her message:Jem, something’s wrong—a storm.

I type back:Don’t worry. It’s a magnetic storm, a snow day. We get them a lot.

Vianna’s words flash back:You sure? My parents and the pilot look worried.

Before I can answer, a message flashes in caps:WE CAN’T DOCK!

I bolt out the door, heading for the command room. The tension stops me in the doorway like a force field.

“Captain, the holo-video won’t work during the storm,” my father is saying. “They’ll have to try docking by sight.”

“With shields up, they don’t have visual. They’re flying blind,” the captain says.

I clear my throat. “Could they lower the shields?” The captain shakes his head. “Dropping the shields would kill them. Evenwithshields they’re in danger in a full-blown storm like this.”

“No!”I cry.

My father puts his hands on my shoulders. “Jem, we’re doing everything we can.”

Tears slide down my cheeks.

“Snow days are supposed to be fun.”

He sighs. “Snow dayscanbe fun, when you’re safe at home. But like real snow on Earth, it can be dangerous if you’re stranded or traveling. The shuttle’s shields aren’t as strong as the station’s. If the holo-video worked, we could talk them in.”

“Can youtextthem in?” I ask. “With the S.A.T.?”

The captain looks over. “What are you talking about?”

“An old system, before holo-video,” my father explains. “It hasn’t been used in years.”

“Does it still work?” says the captain.

“It does,” I blurt out. “I’ve been texting Vianna for months.”

“You’re in touch with the shuttle?” My father rushes me to the S.A.T. booth.

Techs swarm my hideout. I give one tech my code and watch her fingers fly over the keyboard. Messages flash back and forth as techs feed docking coordinates to the shuttle.

Minutes pass.

Then the message I’ve waited for fills the screen:Jem, meet me in the docking bay.

–Vianna