Anton's Odyssey Read Online Free Page A

Living Space for a refugee family of four by almost a square meter, and there are only three of you!”
    “But —” mother tried to protest, but the steward cut her off.
    “Hey if you don’t like it, you’ve got four hours to change your mind and leave the ship!”
    Mother looked dizzy. Still hopeful for mother’s sake, I asked the steward, “What’s the mistake?”
    “Oh yes, thank you ,” he said. He snatched the orange jump suits from mother’s grasp. “I just got word from the personnel officer that you are not permitted to wear these.” He thrust the red bundle into my mother’s hands. “This is your uniform. You only get one set so be careful not to get stains. You can keep the cap so your hair doesn’t get caught in heavy machinery.” He turned to leave, paused for a second, turned back around, took our fourth extra chair and left.
    Mother unfolded the bundle. It was a faded red jumpsuit, the un-adjustable kind our school janitor used to wear. It looked like it would fit loosely on a tall male bodybuilder. There was no way it was going to fit mother’s slim figure. If mother got lost in the woods, she could use the jumpsuit as a tent if she could find a long enough stick to prop up the middle. It was well worn and patched awkwardly on the arms and leggings, each patch causing the surrounding fabric to fold and wrinkle. Mom howled, dashed into her room, and slammed the door.
    Cotton and I just stood there looking at each other, not sure what to do. We could hear mother whimpering through the wall. An hour passed. I tapped on mother’s door, not because I thought of something clever to say that could cheer her up but because I knew that there were important errands we were supposed to complete before liftoff. It took several loud efforts on my part until she finally yelled, “WHAT?”
    “Aren’t we supposed to do stuff before the ship takes off?” I asked.
    After a pause, mother replied, “Yes, take your brother to the medical center.”
    “But he’s not sick!”
    “Take him anyway, and while you are at it, there’s a document in the side compartment of my bag. Take that with you too.”
    I found the document and inspected it in the passageway where mother could not hear or see what I was doing. It was pretty official looking, made out of the same indestructible translucent micro fibers as hard currency. When I held it up to the light, I could make out a hologram of two snakes coiling around the side of a stick. Written up top were the words “Official Medical Document, CONFIDENTIAL.” I read the document, even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to.
    “ To whom it may concern, Melinda D. Dullwid is currently under my medical care. Her current prescriptions include Ketomorphone for fibromyalgia, methylphenidate-bis-phosphate for chronic fatigue syndrome, and long acting quadrazapam hydrochloride for generalized anxiety disorder. In the event Ms. Dullwid tests positive on an employment-related drug screen, clinical correlation is recommended. Peter Q. Maltort MD, Yucaipa Community Medical Center.”
    “What’s it say?” Cotton asked.
    “Nothing really.” I knew exactly what it said though, that my mother just could not cope with life.
    With a fair amount of help from people in white and orange jumpsuits, we were able to find the medical center. We were greeted by a short, pudgy middle-aged medical assistant with a big black hairy wart on her chin. Evidently, she didn’t have to wear a jumpsuit. Her name tag read “Mary, Certified Medical Assistant.” Apparently she didn’t have a last name.
    “Why are you here?” She croaked in a throaty voice. “You sick already? We haven’t even left the ground yet!”
    “No, we’re okay. My mother sent us here.”
    “Did she say why?”
    “No.”
    “Is she a new hire?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Okay then. Go sit down over there and fill out these forms,” she handed us a small tablet and pointed at a row of seats against the wall. “One