much. Too obvious, maybe.â
Jonah frowned. âI donât think Iâve ever been called incredible.â
Alex smiled. âWell, you have now.â He paused. âJonah the Now Incredible.â
Jonah just glanced at him and shook his head. He didnât want a name. Even an impressive one like that. He wanted to get off this ship of strange soldier children and shrieking monsters that may or may not have razor-sharp claws. He wanted to go home.
He was about to tell Alex just that when Willona turned the corner, flung her hands out in exasperation, and hurried toward them.
âWhere have you two been?â she asked sharply. âI had an orientation session planned for twenty minutes ago.â
âWe went adventuring,â Alex said sheepishly.
âShocking,â Willona replied, glaring at him. âCome on, Jonah.â
âWe saw the Shrieker,â Alex said.
Willona looked at him in disbelief. âYou saw it?â
âWell, not really,â he said. âBut it was real close.â
âYou better go file a report. The lieutenant will want to hear all about it.â
She grabbed Jonahâs arm and carted him down the hallway.
âI mean, really,â she said, shaking her head. âYouâre disrupting my schedule, Jonah.â
âJonah the Now Incredible,â Alex corrected, hurrying along behind them.
Willona glanced at him, then at Jonah. âThatâs pretty good.â
She continued to pull Jonah along, and he looked back at Alex for support. Alex just grinned and flipped him a thumbs-up.
âTold you,â he mouthed.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
Jonah collapsed onto his cot. After another hour-longlesson with Willona covering everything from food schedules to emergency drillsâincluding Shrieker attacks, hull breaches, and how to deal with a crying Space Raiderâhe was exhausted. There was a lot to cover. Of course, the response to most emergencies was to run away, other than the crying Space Raider one. For that you were to remind the individual that crying was against the rules and then report the kid to the lieutenant.
There was also a test on the rules, which heâd failed. Willona had just shaken her head and ordered him to take a nap before dinner.
In his room, Jonah looked at his pillow. The white pillowcase was yellowed with age, and he didnât even want to guess at the last time it was washed. He felt something sticking into his back and remembered that heâd put the journal under his blanket. He pulled it out and rolled onto his stomach. Taking out the pen, he turned to the second page.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I know I already wrote you a letter, but I figured I might as well write another one. It does seem to help with the loneliness.
I know I said I love you already, but I forgot to mention Grandma and Grandpa. Can you tell them I lovethem, too? Also, sorry that I broke Grandmaâs vase two years ago. By the way, that was me, not the cat. I guess also say sorry to Charles too. Is he still alive? He was pretty old.
I feel like things are just happening all around me, and I canât seem to keep up. I miss you guys. I miss my own room and my own bed. I miss ham sandwiches. These bean bars are disgusting. I keep wondering if Iâll ever get home.
Anyway, Iâm pretty tired. I think I have bonker training when I wake up, so I should have a nap. Bonkers are weapons, by the way. I love you. And Mara. Still not her boyfriend. Have they broken up yet? I guess it doesnât matter. But I hope so.
If this is my last letter, good-bye.
Sincerely,
Jonah
Jonah read it over and decided it was another excellent letter. Closing the journal, he rolled onto his back again, said a silent good night to his parents, and fell asleep.
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He woke to knocking. Blinking sleepily, Jonah rubbed his eyes and went to get the door.
âHave a nice nap?â Willona asked.
He
Tracie Peterson, Judith Pella