The Visit

I know what kids on Earth must say about living on the moon, but it’s not as bad as everybody thinks. OK, sure—we don’t have oceans or forests. No rain, no wind. No animals. And our whole colony is inside a biodome, which is like a huge bubble with breathable air inside. If we step outside the biodome without a spacesuit, we’ll die. The moon is dangerous and lonely. 

But to me, it’s beautiful . . . so still and peaceful, you can hear your own thoughts. 

“The most boring rock in space.” That’s what Emma says. 

Emma is my best friend. We grew up together. And she can’t wait to leave.

That’s why she’s so excited to meet the Earth kids when they come on their field trip tomorrow. Emma wants to move to Earth and study whales when she grows up. I know she can’t follow her dreams if she stays here. 

But sometimes, it feels like she’s already gone, even when she’s right next to me. 

“Robbie, what’s the matter?” Mom asks that night at dinner. We’re sitting around the small kitchen table in our habitat pod. Mom looks distracted. 

She and Dad have been working on building a new biodome for the colony so that we don’t have to worry about the current one failing one day. It was built 50 years ago, in 2130, when the colony was first founded. So it could use an update. I’ve been helping with the new biodome design. My dream is to make the moon a safe place to live a long way into the future.

“Aren’t you excited to meet the Earth kids?” Mom adds.

“I guess so,” I say. Our robocat, Iggy, jumps into my lap. His familiar rattly purr vibrates through my legs. Emma says real animals are better than robot ones, but Iggy always feels real enough to me. 

“You don’t look very excited,” Dad says. 

“There’s not much here for Earth kids to do,” I say. “They’ll probably get bored and want to leave.” 

Like Emma, I don’t say. 

“Is this about Emma?” Mom asks gently. 

I swear my parents can see right through my skull and into my actual thoughts. 

“No,” I say. “Maybe.” 

Mom nods. “You know,” she says, “friendship is a powerful thing. When you find a real connection with someone, it grows with you. Like a web that expands as it keeps you together. Big enough to keep holding you both.”

“I don’t understand,” I say.

“Maybe not right now,” Mom says. “But I think you will.”

“More spaghetti?” Dad asks, passing me the bowl.

In the morning, the Earth kids will be here. Whether I want them to be or not. 

The school rover picks me up the next morning as usual. I slide into my place next to Emma. Instead of driving to school, Ms. Parks takes us to the landing pad, several meters outside the biodome. We’re already wearing our spacesuits. I can see the Earth spaceship streaking toward us as I pull on my helmet. Emma gives me an excited thumbs-up.

As we get out of the rover, Ms. Parks arranges us into a welcoming line. I don’t have to look at Emma to know her whole face is alive with delight. For a moment, I imagine how I’ll feel someday watching her climb into a spaceship bound for Earth. My stomach sinks. 

Stop it, I tell myself. 

The spaceship lands in an explosion of gray dust. Its doors open, and kids pour out. In their spacesuits, they look just like us. The tallest of the Earth kids is walking right toward Emma and me. 

“I’m Milo!” he yells so loud my headset crackles, grinning his big Earth grin. “Is it true you guys have Neil Armstrong’s boots in a museum up here? Can I see them?” 

Back inside the biodome, we’re supposed to split up and take the Earth kids on a tour of the colony. Ms. Parks assigns each of them moon buddies. Emma and I get Milo. He follows us like an overexcited puppy as we show him the tidy moon-brick streets with their neat rows of habitat pods. He cranes his head around, trying to look at everything all at once. 

“Don’t break your neck,” I say. 

He can’t stop smiling. He loves how the moon’s gravity is so much weaker than Earth’s. “Cool! It’s like flying!” Milo laughs as he hops around, each jump launching him off the surface like a spring. I was sure the Earth kids would be bored, but Milo’s having a great time.

“Robbie’s designing his own hoverboard,” Emma tells Milo. “No wheels—it just slides over the surface. Robbie’s, like, a certified genius.”

“Seriously?” Milo’s looking at me with an expression I don’t recognize. “That’s so cool.” He means it, I realize. He’s impressed by me. 

“You guys are so brave, living up here,” Milo says. “On Earth, everything is so easy we take it for granted.” 

“It must be beautiful,” Emma says. “You have trees. And colorful sunsets. And animals.”

“I guess you’re right,” Milo says. “Sometimes I forget how lucky we are.” 

We all look up at the shining blue-green ball in the sky, a cloud-spun marble. Earth.

“I want to go there more than anything,” Emma says. “I can’t wait to see whales. To swim in the ocean.” 

The hope in her voice makes my heart hurt. I walk away so I don’t have to keep listening.

It’s almost time to meet the other kids in the colony’s cafeteria. “Where does this road go?” Milo asks, pointing.

“Nowhere,” Emma says. “It dead-ends at the edge of the biodome.”

“There used to be a vegetable garden out there,” I say. “But it’s gone now. Nobody uses this road anymore.”

Milo’s eyes shine. “Great! I want to see something nobody else from Earth has seen.”

Together we walk down the empty road until we get to the end. The shimmering bubble of the biodome rises from the pale ground. Beyond the dome is the endless lunar desert. 

“This is so cool,” Milo breathes, taking it all in. I smile to myself. I think “cool” must be Milo’s favorite word.

And then he looks down. “What is that?”

He’s pointing to a place just above where the dome meets the ground. And I see it: a jagged crack in the dome itself, like an open wound. 

The crack whistles as the air we need to breathe slowly escapes the dome. I’ve never seen a crack before, but I know exactly what it means, and so does Emma. The crack is already branching out and spreading. Soon the entire dome will weaken and shatter. And we’ll all die. Not just me and Emma and Milo. The whole colony. And every Earth kid who came to visit.

“We don’t have much time,” I say. “An hour at most.”

“Probably more like minutes,” Emma says.

“What?” Milo gasps. “What’s happening?”

“Everything is going to be OK,” I say. I’m talking to myself as much as to Milo.

Emma and I have been running drills for this our whole lives. But this isn’t a drill. Emma’s hands are shaking, and she looks as scared as I feel. 

But we know each other so well that it’s like we’re talking without words. I don’t have to tell Emma to run for the alarm. She’s already there, pushing the emergency button. A loud siren starts wailing.

And Emma doesn’t have to tell me to find the emergency patch kit in its bright-orange box by the end of the road. I’m already connecting the big plastic patch to the dome. Then I hear the roar of a rover, and a second later Dad’s calm, reassuring voice. 

“Great job, Robs. Your mom and I will take over now.”

We stand back as Mom and Dad work. A big crowd of people from the colony gathers around us, and the rest of the Earth kids too. 

Emma pokes me in the shoulder. “They’re all staring at us,” she whispers. 

She’s right. The Earth kids are looking at the two of us with that same expression I saw on Milo’s face earlier. The one I didn’t recognize. But I think I know what it is now: respect. 

Mom and Dad finish the patch, and a relieved cheer goes up. “We’re safe,” Dad says to everyone. “Thanks to Robbie and Emma and their new friend.” Dad grins at Milo. “And soon we’ll have a new biodome. One that won’t be in any danger of failing.” 

Emma leans over. “Robbie’s been helping with the design!”

“That’s so cool,” Milo says, slapping me on the back. “You really are a genius. You’ve gotta come to Earth sometime. I’ll show you both around. I live by the ocean. We’ll go surfing.”

“Surfing?” Emma’s eyes are bright. “What’s that?”

“It’s like flying across the water,” Milo says. “It’s the coolest thing in the entire universe.”

“Wow,” Emma breathes. She looks at me. “You’ll come too, right, Robs?”

 “Maybe,” I say. But Emma grins at me. She knows me better than anyone. She knows most of the time when I say maybe it means yes. 

Milo’s a lot nicer than I thought an Earth kid would be. 

Maybe it would be fun to visit him. 

Maybe I don’t have to stay on the moon all the time to have a life here. 

Maybe Emma’s future is big enough to have a place for me too. 

I think of what Mom said about webs and how they can expand. And finally, I understand exactly what she meant.