Kaufman raised her eyebrows. “What sound was that?”
“Sort of a falling sound,” Ishmael said.
I cringed. Maggie laughed out loud.
“Maggie, go to your room,” Father said.
“But—”
“Right now.”
With a huff, Maggie stomped up the stairs. When she was gone, Kaufman said, “What exactly is a falling sound?”
“You know, like a whooshing,” Ishmael replied confidently.
He was going to give me a heart attack. I needed to reel him in.
“Actually,” Mother spoke up, “I might have heard a falling sound too.”
What?
“Didn’t you hear it, Vic? Right before the explosion?”
Father frowned. “I must have missed it.”
What in the world was going on?
Chief Kaufman looked back and forth between my parents before jotting something on her notepad. Then she turned to Ishmael and me again. “Don’t meteors usually leave residue?”
Finally, something I could answer with confidence. “Actually, this isn’t unprecedented. Have you heard of the Tunguska event?”
Chief Kaufman shook her head.
“In the early 1900s there was an explosion in Russia that destroyed several hundred square miles of forest. It’s generally accepted that a meteoroid falling to Earth burned so hot it burst before hitting the ground, creating a massive explosion but leaving no trace of itself.”
Ishmael nodded hard enough for his hair to flop forward into his eyes. “Yes, something exactly like that must have happened.”
“The Tunguska event, you said?” Kaufman asked.
I nodded and she wrote it in her notepad.
“And in the 1930s there was an event along the Curuçá River in Brazil where—”
“That’s all right,” Chief Kaufman said. “We don’t need to cover every instance.”
I was somewhat disappointed. It was rare for me to find people to discuss my interests with, and nothing interested me more than astronomy.
“I think I have enough for now,” Kaufman said. She flipped her notebook shut and stood. “I’ll look into this and call with any developments.”
A wave of relief washed over me. Father walked the chief to the door, goodbyes were said, and I knew from the light in Ishmael’s eyes that he thought we’d gotten away with something spectacular.
“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow,” Father told us. “I’m going to bed.”
Mother stood to follow him. She watched him ascend the creaky, wooden stairs, and it wasn’t until he was gone that she said, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Is there anything I can get you before I go up?”
Ishmael and I shook our heads.
“I love you boys so much.”
“Love you too, Mom,” Ishmael said.
“I want you to take the myTality Recharge,” Mother told me.
I sighed.
She moved toward the stairs, but stopped and turned back. “And boys?”
We looked at her.
“If there are more explosives on this property, I want them removed immediately.”
Event: Immediate Aftermath
Date: Sept. 8 (Fri.)
I woke up with a sense that something was missing. My gaze flicked around the bedroom to my NASA posters, the scale model of the Saturn V, the mural of the solar system I’d painted on the wall when I was twelve. Everything seemed to be in place, except…
Data, I suddenly realized. I’d been so caught up in the explosion the night before, I’d forgotten my experiment.
I sat up quickly. Despite everything, I was still anxious to know if my seismograph had worked. If it had, the rest of the mess would almost be worthwhile. Almost.
Unfortunately, to check the seismograph, I’d have to go to my lab, which would mean passing my parents. I was sure they weren’t any happier about the explosion after having the night to dwell on it.
There was no use putting off seeing them, though. I got out of bed, dressed in my usual T-shirt and cargo pants, and followed the smell of breakfast down our rickety staircase.
In the kitchen, Father stood at the stove. His favorite apron was tied over his workout clothes, the one with script across the front that said What’s cookin’, Mr. Hofstadt? Maggie already sat at our splintery farmhouse breakfast table, devouring a pile of pancakes.
Was my family going to proceed with the normal morning routine, as if unexplained explosions and police investigations were everyday occurrences on the farm?
“Morning,” Father said, passing me a plate.
I sat across from my sister and began eating. The pancakes were flavorful, but dry. I eyed the syrup. Should I risk it? Syrup made pancakes significantly more appetizing, but it was impossible to use without getting traces on my face or hands. And I despised being sticky.
“What are your plans today?” Maggie asked.
I swallowed a bite of food, deciding that dry pancakes were the more practical choice. “It’s a school day. My plan is to attend school, like I do every school day. Why?” (Technically inaccurate, being that there were days I hadn’t attended school on a school day, e.g., days when I was sick.)
“Just wondering if there’s anywhere I should avoid. You know, places you might blow up next.”
“That’s enough, Maggie,” Father said, pointing at her with the spatula.
Maggie smiled sweetly.
My intention was for there to be no more explosions, on that day or any day. Unless, of course, a future experiment called for it.
Mother buzzed into the kitchen, briefcase in hand. She wore a blazer with a purple shirt underneath, which meant she was anticipating a busy day. Purple was her power color, worn whenever she needed a boost of luck.
“You have time to eat?” Father asked.
Mother opened the pantry. “Barely. I’ll just grab a myTality Power-Up.”
She unwrapped the energy bar and ate while standing at the counter.
MyTality™ was Mother’s latest venture, following an aromatherapy business, a yoga studio, and her involvement with the church before that. She usually lost interest around the five-year mark—it was unfortunate for my siblings and me that our names were chosen during her religious phase.
“Big day?” Father asked.
“Recruiting,” Mother said. “And lunch with a member of my downline this afternoon. What are your plans today?”