- Good News
My room is full of lots of things, including Black Lives Matter posters, pictures of goldfish and nature, lots of balls, Carl Hiaasen, J.K Rowlings, and Gary Paulsen books other items. I have all of the Black Lives Matter posters inside my house. That’s because if someone disagrees with the poster, and unprecedentedly runs past and sees it, they might want to do something to it such as throw a rock. But most of it is covered by a mammoth poster layed out on the floor that I painted of an Atlas 5 rocket launching. I based it on the May 28th launch, the 34th time an Atlas 5 has launched in the USA. Launched again. I have to work on it, though. I think it looks like a pig’s home at this stage. My name is Ryth and I am interested in rockets and nature.
“Crash!” A cymbal-like sound pierces my ears as I jump in terror. Emerson, my 4-year-old little sister began to open the door. Because of a fallen china lamp, Eme can’t get in properly.
“Hello, Buppy!” she says. That’s her special way of saying “Brother.”
“Good day to you, matey!” I respond and salute politely.
Eme laughs. “I got some good news,” she says, beaming as her eyes lit up.
Eme’s news is that we are going to Michael Jackson’s concert in Gary, Indiana. Eme told me that Michael has been the pop king since he was 10, with his brothers, Jackie, Tito, Jermaine, Marlon, and Randy. He sang songs that have a positive message like “I’ll be There,” and songs that make you get up and move like “Dancing Machine” and “Life of party” When Eme tells me, she fizzles up like a firework. Her face scrumples up like tissue paper. She had an enormous orange slice smile smack in the middle of her face.
2. The peculiar First officer
A few hours later, my parents took me to the massive airport near San Bruno. As the sun shines over the control tower, my little sister stares at the gleaming planes taking off.
While we wait to board, the pilot saw me playing with my Boeing 737 toy jet and approaches me.
“Hello!! I really like your plane!” he says kindly. My mouth gapes.
Then the pilot takes something out of his pocket, a scale model F-35!! Then, when the co-pilot or first officer comes to see me with my planes he just gives me an odd look. Very peculiar.
This co-pilot acts very peculiarly—not just his little looks—his eyes blinking furiously as he talks. His nose twitches in between words.
He’s clearly different from the North Carolina pilot, who gave me a little badge, and the Nevada one gave me a pilot suit and a How to Control a Plane book. He isn’t wearing a typical suit, he is wearing a polar-bear white astronaut suit. He seems to always smile, his smile looks as if his teeth are dipped in snow. Hmm. Does he even work for American Airlines?
As we board the jet, the co-pilot stares at me. It’s almost like a tiger staring. A tiger. Right in front of me. Next, he smiled at his snow and then left.
As the plane takes off, it feels like an earthquake, streaking across the city, and shaking the trees off the ground. At last, we reach our destination, the Gary IN’TL airport.
3. Mars Science Labs and the Rocket Launch
When we are all at the concert, the announcer’s booming voice says: “And now for your grand pop king… Michael Jackson!” Then the auditorium fills with tumultuous cheers, as the pop king and his six brothers come on stage.
After The Jacksons sing their song “Blame it on the Boogie,” a voice gets my attention.
A big dude towers above me. I recognize him as our co-pilot on our plane. He beckons for me. I don’t know why I did this but I came tearing through the crowd like I was trying to burst out of a balloon.
“Hi, I am Doug. I run Mars science labs, an aerospace company. Do you want to go inside our rocket with me?” I jump at the chance.
When we got to the Mars science labs station, I marvel at the enormous rocket. It glimmers in the sunlight and is as tall as the Empire State Building, which is nearby.
Two men wave at us very rapidly. One man is Dougs’ assistant, Bob.
“Hi, Ryth, I am Bob and this is my pal Ribert!” says Bob, pointing to a man.
“He’s coming in the rocket with us today!” says Doug. Meanwhile, Ribert smiles. He has the exact smile of Doug, that snowy one.
The rocket is very peculiar. On the side of the rocket, a small face is painted, with slashed-out eyes. It looks at me, it must be feeling upset. It has a minute mouth that is made out of little X’s. It is shining against the metal rocket. People assume that all Chinese people have squinty eyes. My jaws finally drop as my face turns the color of fire. Who does graffiti refer to?
Me. Plus—it says that it is by Ribert ‘this. Isn’t he the good guy?
4. Liftoff!
Suddenly a loud siren blares my ear. Every astronaut gets ready because that beeping noise means liftoff!!
3-2-1! The rocket cruises through the air like a missile, coming into the target. Then I notice the walls. They are covered in graffiti that says: “WHITE POWER!” and “GO BACK to your country!”
I am so filled with indignation so that I punch the seat as if I am a karate master. As I calm, I notice Bob playing with astronaut computers.
“Bob?” I want to ask him about the graffiti. But because of Bob’s enormous headphones, he doesn’t respond. Then, as Bob leans back to press a huge red button, his and Doug’s seat belt that is connected tear, because they’re leaning. Then, they start to fall out!! No parachute. I have to chase him. So, bravely I go down.
Falling,
Falling,
Falling down the side of the rocket! My mouth is open and screaming. My hands are flailing all around. My legs are kicking imaginary people.
5. Space-A-Topia
As I fall, Michael Jackson takes me by the shirt and the sleeve. Then I notice that he is the walking dot I saw earlier… We start to trot when something catches my eyes towards the ground. Something that dazzles in the light.
“I see a dazzling place! Come closer!” I say.
“OK!” So we run closer to the dazzling area, a house with a golden door. It says “Space-A-Topia: Learn how to “fly” a rocket for free. Your teacher is a qualified astronaut” on it. Everyone knows that people can’t fly rockets. I have a feeling this is fake. There is also a bright blue jewel on the poster. As I run my fingers through the scaly texture of the jewel, a force takes me in, it even felt like I was falling down a beach funnel, the water and I siphoning in.
Not a moment too soon when I end up in a deep-sea blue gigantic mansion. In the middle of it, stands a great, white rocket.
“Boom!” At last, another figure appears upon me, a figure that I recognize as Ribert.
“Welcome to your Space-a-topia lessons, Ryth! Look at this! Learning how to fly a rocket!” says Ribert.
He gazes at the door for a while as excitement fills me. He then gives me a form. It asks me for my race. When I check off Asian from the list, Ribert tells me to go.
6. Is Ribert really the bad guy?
But why doesn’t he let me in?
As I walk out, my thinking brain takes over. I think I should get Bob or Doug because they traveled straight to the Astronauts corridor nearby. So, I went next door and said ASTRONAUT’S CORRIDOR on it. So I went on in. Sure enough, Bob and Doug are there and typing away on computers.
I tell them that Ribert didn’t let me in.
“We’ll walk on over in a sec,” they say, synchronously.
After they walk next door, Ribert comes out.
“Oh, hi, Bob, heh, and, uh, wow nice tie Doug! I’m just sweeping back here…Umm…yeah! Just sweepin’!” Ribert says, a giant grin on his face, hiding the form behind his back.
“Why didn’t you let him in?” says Bob.
“Heh…I didn’t even notice him!” Ribert grabs a shovel towards his left, pretending to pull weeds.
At that second, Doug snatches the form from Ribert’s back. Then, he studies it for a bit.
At last, a sprout topic pops tointointo my mind. As the sprout pushes through my brain, it branches out to one big theme. Racism. All those racist remarks on the rockets. Then, he is not letting me in to launch a rocket. It’s because I am Asian and Ribert doesn’t think that Asian people should be astronauts.
So I reveal the comments on the rocket to the astronauts.
“In Mars science labs we believe that everyone matters, not just white people!” says Doug. “Oh, and you are fired, Ribert.”
Then, the astronauts start to talk about last year, when a massive Mars science protest took place, not too far from here.
“Yeah, we chose to do the protest, not say ‘we’re gonna do it’ and not!!” says Bob.
These words streak me like lightning. It reminds me of the lyrics of “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around,” a protest song. Those people who created the song must have fought for justice, and they probably didn’t hide their BLM posters behind their rooms.
As the astronauts yap about Black people like Barack Obama, our last real president, who does good things for the world, I start thinking of facing the BLM poster to the window.
7. Launched Again
After Doug and Bob fire Ribert, I come to meet my family in the car. They found me easily, for the theatre is bright red and the tallest building in this neighborhood.
“FFFFFffooomm!” A rocket lifts off quite near us. It is an Atlas 5, just like the one I just crashed in.
“Wow!” shouts Daddy, as the rocket first burn stage starts.
“Look at that rocket, Emerson Leah!” says Mommy.
“Wow, look at that rocket, Buppy!” responds Eme.
It’s so cool all I say is ‘Whoa!’
I have never seen this! Well, I have been in one just a few hours ago. Two figures are strapped inside.
Wait—could those guys be—? Bob and Doug. I wave and they wave back. They sure did launch again!
Epilogue
“Pitter, patter” Tiny droplets sploosh against our driveway.
“WHOOO!” the wind howls, wild and free like a coyote.
Mommy, Daddy, Eme, and I have just gotten off the 4-hour flight from Gary.
“Wow, wasn’t that fun, Buppy?” Eme exclaims.
“Yeah, seeing the Jackson 5 and all,” I respond.
But I was not thinking about the show. I was thinking about Ribert and racism. I thought he’s the good guy, at first.
As I walk up the front steps of my house, I choose to move the
BLM poster to the window, so everyone can see it. Maybe some people will be convinced. I go to my room, and I notice that everything is exactly how I left it 2 days ago. As I walk up to the “STAMP out racism” sign, I notice the BLM sign on the floor. I touch the frosty paper, which hasn’t been touched in a long time. Then, with quivering fingers, I remove the poster, with its mounting putty stuck to it and all, and place it on the window.