Space Case Read Online Free

home page on the big screen,” I said.
    â€œJa, mein Herr.” Hapuna Beach vanished and the MBA home page took its place.
    I scanned it quickly, hoping to see that Dr. Holtz hadcalled an important meeting for all residents. But there was nothing. In fact the page hadn’t even been updated recently: The previous night’s Lunar Book Club meeting was still listed as the next “upcoming event” in the calendar.
    I couldn’t wait in the room any longer. It was feeling even smaller than usual to me. Although Dr. Holtz had said he wouldn’t be revealing his discovery until seven o’clock, I figured he might be too excited to sit tight as well. Maybe he was already down in the communal kitchen, holding court. I went to our bureau to grab some clothes.
    â€œGoing out already?” Mom asked. “What’s the hurry?”
    â€œI’m hungry,” I said.
    â€œYou didn’t even check the World Series scores.” Mom sounded slightly suspicious.
    â€œI checked them in the middle of the night,” I said. “Charlotte beat Vegas, six to three.”
    Dad groaned from his sleep pod. “You’re kidding.”
    â€œNo. William Higgins hit a grand slam in the eighth off Jed Bynum.”
    â€œWhat were you doing up in the middle of the night?” Mom asked.
    â€œBathroom. Revenge of the chicken parmigiana.” It didn’t take long for me to pick out clothes. Since the moon base is kept sterile, our clothes don’t get very dirty—which is good, as we have limited storage space and onlyone laundry machine at MBA. (Luckily, even if you work out hard, your clothes don’t end up smelly, as it’s the dirt and grime mixing with your sweat that makes the stink on earth.) Each pair of clothes can be worn multiple times before needing a wash, so we Moonies brought only ten outfits each for our three-year stay. This was fine with me, as I had basically worn a T-shirt and shorts every day back on earth, though some Moonies found life with only ten outfits as awful as I found life without decent food. I pulled on my Waimea Middle School surf team tee and yanked board shorts over the boxers I’d slept in.
    As I strapped on my smartwatch, I noticed a message on its tiny video screen: I’d missed a call from Riley Bock, my best friend back on earth, the night before. I texted Riley that I’d call her later; she was probably still asleep—it was one a.m. in Hawaii—and besides, there was too much else to focus on that morning. I slipped into my sneakers and headed for the door.
    Violet abandoned her chess game and ran after me. “I’m hungry too! I want waffles! Waffles waffles waffles!”
    â€œDash, can you wait for your sister to get ready?” Mom asked.
    â€œNo.” I didn’t even slow down on my way out. “It always takes her fifteen minutes to get dressed. I could eat and be back by then.”
    â€œI don’t need to get dressed!” Violet announced. “I’ll just wear my pajamas!”
    â€œI thought you wanted to play chess,” I said.
    â€œI want waffles more!”
    We don’t have real waffles on the moon, of course. We only have reconstituted waffle-flavored substance. It tastes like coagulated maple syrup, but Violet loves it. She’s the only one at MBA who eats it.
    I grabbed the doorknob, ready to walk out anyhow.
    â€œDash. Wait for your sister,” Mom ordered.
    I stopped, knowing better than to disobey my mother. The last thing I needed was to be sent to my sleeping pod. “Let’s move it, squirt,” I told Violet.
    â€œLet me get my slippers!” Violet scurried back to her pod, singing a song about waffles.
    Violet could make up a song about anything. She once performed practically an entire opera about clipping her toenails. Now she was happily crooning, “I love waffles! They’re not awful! They taste so good!”
    A strange, urgent