Lost In Translation Read Online Free Page B

send relief.” Daddy slid his hand under Mama’s and squeezed it. “It’s not going to happen.”
    â€œI hope not,” Mama said.
    Daddy smiled. “You have the Governor’s word on it.”
    Mama smiled back, and Katy smiled, too, turned her fork over, and ate her squashed peas.
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    Landing Day, four days later, dawned bright and clear, and Katy bounced out of bed the minute the sunshine touched her face, put on her best play-dress and sun-hat, and was downstairs for breakfast almost before Mama started making it. Mama wore blue shorts and a sleeveless white top and Katy thought how pretty she looked with her sun-freckled skin and long red hair. She turned and smiled at Katy and said, “Happy Landing Day, Katy!”
    Katy bounced up onto the green-topped stool behind the breakfast counter. “Happy Landing Day, Mama!”
    Mama frowned. “You know, seeing you makes me think I’m forgetting something important. But I can’t think what . . .”
    Katy giggled.
    â€œI know!”
    Katy waited expectantly.
    â€œI forgot to salt the eggs!” Mama turned around and sprinkled a little salt onto the scrambled eggs in her skillet, and Katy laughed out loud. “But you know,” Mama said, putting the salt away in the cupboard, “I’m sure there’s something else . . .”
    Daddy came in from the dining room and scooped Katy out of the chair and swung her around. “Happy Birthday, kittenkid!”
    Katy squealed with pure joy, and then laughed again when Mama said, “Birthday? No, I don’t think that was it . . .” But then she turned around, too, as Daddy set Katy down, and gave her a big hug. “Happy Birthday, Katy.”
    Katy jumped back up on the stool and bounced up and down, barely able to contain her excitement. Six years old, and Landing Day, too, and that meant they were going to the carnival, and somewhere there had to be a present for her, she couldn’t know exactly what, of course, but the only thing she really, really wanted was a synthibear. Misty Pendergrass had a synthidog, but a synthibear was better because it could walk on two legs and use its front paws to hold things. You could have a tea party with a synthibear and all you could do with a dumb old synthidog was play fetch, but every time Katy played with Misty she could feel how Misty thought she was so special because she had a synthidog and Katy didn’t. Katy thought she’d really enjoy the new feeling she’d get from Misty the next time they played together if she had a synthibear.
    But that made her feel a little bad, because she didn’t really like unhappy feelings from anyone, even Misty. And maybe it wasn’t really fair, because Misty never said anything out loud about her being special because she had a synthidog, and Katy had recently realized that because most people couldn’t feel what other people were feeling, they figured she couldn’t, either, so if Misty hadn’t actually said anything out loud, then maybe . . . maybe . . .
    Mama set a plate of steaming eggs in front of her, and a slice of toast smothered in big, sticky, gooey, blue gobs of muffleberry jam, and Katy quit trying to figure out Misty and started eating.
    â€œWeather should be clear all day, SatCom says,” Daddy said, coming back to the table from the comm unit. “And the carnival people arrived in orbit right on schedule yesterday and landed before nightfall. Everything’s set.” He winked at Mama, and Katy knew he was keeping a secret of some kind, not from Mama but from her, but that was all right. Birthday secrets were almost always good secrets.
    Half an hour later they set off down the grass-covered street toward the Landing Field, turned into a carnival ground “For One Day Only!” as the posters that had appeared everywhere in Luckystrike weeks before proclaimed. Katy loved those posters; she ran ahead of her parents