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Back Little Universes Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Part 1
  6. Mae
  7. Hannah
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. Part 2
  33. 25
  34. 26
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Part 3
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. Epilogue
  59. Mental Health Resources
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  62. About the Author
  63. Newsletter Sign-up

“My dad’s…” I don’t know what to call her, but I look up at Drew, and he gets it.

His eyes widen. “Shit.”

And just like that, things get worse.

16

Mae

ISS Location: Low-Earth Orbit

Earth Date: 18 October

Earth Time (EST): 13:05

The way to survive space is to keep asking yourself, again and again: What is the next thing that can kill me?

It’s not paranoia. It’s good common sense. Chris Hadfield, ace astronaut, swears by this question. It’s what’s saved him countless times in space.

By always thinking about what could potentially end you, you’re staying one step ahead of death. Sure, it will find you eventually—that’s just the law of nature. But it doesn’t have to be today.

The problem is, of course, that there are a lot of things that can kill you.

Faulty jets in flat spins going Mach 3.

Waves.

Your sister shutting you out of her life entirely.

Nah hides in her room all day, and she purposefully avoids eye contact with me or wears dark glasses so I can’t check her pupils. I don’t need to. Every time I see my sister, she is on something. I wouldn’t have known the difference before because I don’t do stuff like that—however, this past year has been an excellent education in drug addiction. But I can’t talk to her about it. There’s a wall between us now.

I don’t know how to tell her that she’s all I have without it sounding like a trick to get her sober. All that’s left. But we aren’t in the same orbit, anymore.

My sister spends most of her time in bed, curled onto her side. She thinks I don’t know about the other pills, the new ones, but I do. Her purse was in the hallway after school yesterday, open, and I saw a mini Altoids tin and she hates those mints, so I knew there must be pills in there. I was right. Different pills from the ones I already took. Percocet. I was going to take them, but then Aunt Nora came up and I couldn’t. The next time I was in the hallway, the purse was gone.