Epic ellisons, p.1
Epic Ellisons, page 1
Dedication
For the stargazers and trailblazers
Epigraph
Don’t let anyone rob you of your imagination, your creativity, or your curiosity. It’s your place in the world; it’s your life. Go on and do all you can with it, and make it the life you want to live.
—DR. MAE JEMISON, first African American woman astronaut in space
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Countdown: 36:23:19:02
1. Some Time Apart
2. That Was . . . Never a Thing
3. Petey Thunkle Is WHAT?!
4. A Chill(y) Reception
5. Elevators Are Way Cooler on the Inside
6. What Came First?
7. Taking One for the Team
Countdown: 22:11:27:15
8. Cold Comfort (Just Kidding, It’s Not Comfortable at All)
9. Like Spaghetti but Reversed
10. Epic Expectations
11. Ghosts, Aliens, and Probabilities, Oh My!
12. All That from Corn?
13. Where the People Aren’t
14. Eggs, Lightning Side Up
15. These Are Not the Geniuses You’re Looking For
16. Homecoming
17. Previously on Logan County Adventures . . .
18. This Plan Is Trash
19. Mom?! Wait. What?!
20. What Happened to Dr. Burr
21. We Call It Sci-Fi!
22. The Bullies’ Trap
23. Family Business
24. Introductions Overdue
25. When IRL Monopoly Goes Wrong!
26. Sam and Ralph Have Become Problematic
27. Meeting in the Middle
28. From Day One
29. Time Will Tell
30. The World According to Pettygrew
31. Mission (Out of) Control
32. Whac-A-Mole
33. Final Destination
34. A New Arrival
Three Weeks Later
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Excerpt from The Last Last-Day-of-Summer
About the Author
Praise
Copyright
About the Publisher
Countdown
36:23:19:02
1
Some Time Apart
Victoria and Evangeleen Ellison—“Wiki” and “Leen” to their friends, or “Epic Ellisons” to folks who needed saving around Logan County—had never, ever been apart. Not for any amount of time worth mentioning anyway, unless it was their daddy doing the talking.
They were twins born seven minutes apart. Daddy loved telling their In The Hospital story. “That seven minutes might be the longest you two were separated for, shoot, the first three or four years of your life. It’s funny because Wiki didn’t even cry until Leen was born laughing. One of the nurses cried too because, believe it or not, a baby born laughing is a little creepy. No offense, sweet pea.”
“It’s almost impossible to offend me, Daddy,” Leen said every time.
Daddy always told it like he was revealing a secret, though everyone in the family knew the tale by heart. Even Uncle Percy who mostly pretended to listen to people while texting or scrolling through pictures on ThunkleGram.
“You two”—Daddy would slap his thigh as he finished—“have been roommates since you were in your mama’s belly. Ain’t that fun?”
Then he’d laugh like he’d told a joke. It wasn’t fun or funny though, only true.
While he laughed, Mama would flick her eyes between her unamused, barely smiling daughters. Leen may not have noticed because it’s not the sort of thing she cared much about, but Wiki couldn’t help catching those quick glances. Thanks to her photographic memory and ability to process information computer fast, Wiki had become an expert at reading faces—the tics and tells. The message on their mother’s face was BIG and bold. It said: Sorry, girls, boys just don’t get it. Not even when they’re old like your dad.
School was over. Had been for about a week. Those days leading up to D. Franklin Middle School’s final bell had not been the ones that had Leen most excited. If anything, the last day of school meant she’d have seven more whole boring, unoccupied days until the one she’d really been waiting for.
When she left for Cosmos Camp.
Okay, that week between the end of school and her last night in Logan County wasn’t totally boring. She and Wiki helped the Legendary Alston Boys defeat some mutant moles. They also got to stay out until 8:30 one night and have gelato with the boys, which definitely wasn’t a double date because Mama said they were way too young to date and Uncle Percy sat in the corner of the Riches Brew coffee shop the entire time, pointing at Otto and Sheed with his spoon while mouthing silent threats.
So the week was mildly amusing—the gelato more than the mutant moles—but with less than twelve hours between her and her summer away, Leen found herself jittery with excitement. Sleep would not come easy. Thankfully, Wiki was happy to sit with her, help keep her calm, until they went their separate ways.
“You’re going to learn so much about all of that,” Wiki said, pointing broadly at the sky dotted with mysterious pinpricks of light.
I know, Leen thought, giddy with the prospect of it all.
They were in their favorite spot, atop an out-of-commission tractor that belonged to their grandparents, in the middle of a cornfield. Though the tires were dry rotted and stalks sprouted from the engine block, the hood, when covered with their favorite blanket, made a great spot for stargazing.
Slathered in minty bug repellent, with flashlights resting between them, the girls craned their necks, always awed by such perfectly summer Logan County nights and their marvelous view from their tiny, tiny section of the universe.
“I wish you could come,” Leen said. It wasn’t true but felt like the right thing to say.
“Cosmos Camp sounds fun, but that’s your thing. I’ll be plenty busy here until you get back.”
That was also a lie. At least partially. There’d be a ton of work around the farm, like always, so “busy” was true. Cosmos Camp sounded a little fun, but Wiki knew she was overselling that part. She wasn’t trying to deceive her sister with exaggerated enthusiasm as much as keep something important to herself. A secret that she hadn’t uttered aloud because she’d been afraid to.
Wiki was looking forward to a summer alone.
She’d miss Leen, sure. No question. But . . . Leen could be exhausting.
Her unpredictable inventions that she couldn’t always control. The way she seemed unaware of how dangerous some of her experiments were. Or who had to help clean up every single mess she made (that would be Wiki, ten times out of ten). Mostly, it was fine. Part of the twin contract. In a county as strange as Logan, sometimes you needed a little unpredictability to save your butt.
However . . .
Wiki sure was looking forward to seeing what a summer on her own was like. Maybe she’d hate it. Maybe she’d desperately miss Leen and count the days until her dear sister returned.
There was only one way to find out.
“Oh! I made you something!” Leen said, rooting through the bag wedged between them. The bag Wiki had wondered about, but was afraid to ask.
Alarmed, Wiki scooted sideways, almost falling off the tractor, and asked, “Where does it rate on the LMDS?”
The LMDS was the Leen’s Machines Danger Scale, a ten-point range for gauging the safety (or lack thereof) of Leen’s inventions. It went from one (Not Dangerous at All, Probably) to ten (The Army’s on the Phone!).
“Solid three. Or five,” Leen said, freeing the device from the sack.
“Ummm . . .”
“Just wait.”
She produced a stainless-steel rectangle embedded with some sort of screen. It seemed too chunky for a typical tablet—also, Leen rarely built anything typical. When she tapped the Power button, bringing the screen to life, displaying one of Wiki’s favorite photos, all became clear.
Wiki said, “A digital picture frame?”
“Yep!”
That was . . . unremarkable. Not in a bad way. It was a thoughtful gift, particularly since it displayed one of Wiki’s favorite photos—the two of them in a game of tag, Leen chasing Wiki. Wiki had the ability to recall that picture in her head at any given time, but she preferred seeing it for real, outside of her memory.
She felt the slightest urge to cry over the sweet, sweet present. “You’re the one going away. Shouldn’t I give you something?”
Leen waved off the question. “There’s more.”
Uh-oh. Sudden fear dried up Wiki’s tears.
Leen pressed another button, and the photo literally leapt off the screen. A holographic projection sprang forth, so a second Wiki and Leen, frozen in midstride, now stood before the tractor. Somehow the photo had become life-sized models of the twins, seemingly as solid as real people!
Wiki hopped off the tractor, inspecting the perfect projections closely. Wiki had seen her sister produce amazing things from next to nothing, but this was one of her more impressive innovations.
Leen, who’d taken to wearing a discreet gauntlet beneath her left sleeve that acted as a sort of all-in-one control for any of her nearby inventions, tapped a command into her wearable tech, and a projection shot from her general wrist area. Another, slightly fuzzier version of the same holograph. “My gauntlet doesn’t have quite the capability of the frame, so the definition isn’t as high, but y ou see, we both have this same photo anytime we want it.”
“This is great!” said Wiki. “Why’d you give it a five on the LMDS?”
As if on cue, a spark flew from the frame like a tiny meteorite. The hologram flickered from existence, and that spark landed on a dry cornstalk, setting it ablaze.
Quickly, Wiki stomped the fire out, saving all the other dry stalks around it. So it goes. She took the powered-down frame from Leen. “Thank you for this. It’s very thoughtful. I maybe won’t activate the holograms while you’re away.”
“You aren’t going to get bored doing double chores every day?” Leen said, genuinely concerned their parents would work Wiki into an early grave since she’d be the only one here.
Wiki shook her head, but hesitantly. “When Uncle Percy told them he was hitting the road this summer to try and bring in more trucking money, they put out an ad for some farmhands. There will be help.”
Leen’s shoulders hunched a bit. Tense. “Will that be expensive?”
About as expensive as everything else was these days. Or so Wiki gathered from the late-night conversations—that were sometimes arguments—Mama and Daddy thought they were whispering. Still, she told another lie. “I don’t think so.”
“Good,” Leen said, sounding relieved, though she didn’t quite relax again. Instead, she changed the subject. “You think you’ll hang with Otto and Sheed much?”
Wiki shrugged. “Don’t know. I don’t really have a plan.” And it’s glorious! she shouted inside her head.
Happy that Wiki would be mostly okay, and making herself believe Mama and Daddy weren’t struggling to pay for everything a farm needed folks to pay for, there was one thing that still worried Leen. “You going to do okay with those bad dreams?”
Wiki’s joyful anticipation decreased by half. “They’re not really bad. Mostly strange.”
“You toss and turn hard. Sometimes you yell.”
“I do not.”
She did. Leen knew because that’s when she’d climb in bed with Wiki and hug her until she calmed down. No need to fight about it, though. At least Leen didn’t want to. What would an argument change? After tomorrow morning, they’d have to work on their own problems in their own ways for a while.
The silence between them stretched. Wiki said, “You need to get some sleep. Big day. Let’s head back, but first . . .”
Wiki snatched her ThunklePhone from her shirt pocket and held it high so she and Leen were shoulder to shoulder in selfie view.
“A new one to remember you by,” Wiki said, tapping the screen with her thumb and triggering the flash.
That—the sentiment, not the flash—almost brought Leen to tears. She knew Wiki didn’t need a camera to remember anything. So she must really love looking at Leen’s smiling face.
The feeling was mutual.
It was a short walk through the field back to their house, where light glowed from every window. They clopped inside, kicking off their shoes at the door, and only barely registered Mama and Daddy talking in excited tones to someone on the phone.
Mama interrupted whatever conversation they were having and yelled, “Girls, is that you? Come in here, please.”
The girls exchanged wary looks and entered the living room where their parents sat side by side on the couch with Mama’s ThunklePhone resting on the coffee table, the screen glowing in speaker mode.
Daddy grinned his goofiest grin. “They just came in.”
Wiki got more wary. Whoever they are talking to, the conversation was about us?
Leen simply chirped a cheerful, “Hello!”
From the phone, a woman said, “Hey there, girls. Y’all are just in time for some great news.”
Wiki’s memory did its thing, sorting through every voice she’d ever heard. In person. On TV. In a song. Overlaying those with the one from the phone, making instant comparisons. That voice belonged to Anna Thunkle, and Wiki’s brain churned some more.
Anna was someone Wiki had never met in person but who had deep ties to the county they lived in. Anna grew up in the town of Fry, the town known as the beating heart of Logan County. Her father used to own Archie’s Hardware on Main Street. These days people knew Anna as the richest woman in the world . . .
. . . because she was married to the richest man, a certain Logan County native and tech genius by the name of Petey Thunkle. Founder of PeteyTech.
Their company was responsible for most of the technology people used today. Everything from the ThunklePhones people carried to the Thunk-Tok social media app where people posted cool hair tutorials and funny dance videos to the Thulu streaming service where the Ellisons watched most of the shows and movies they enjoyed. The company did so many things. Including, the annual Cosmos Camp Leen was about to attend.
So this is about that, Wiki reasoned. Then thought, Why’d she say girls, plural?
Daddy waved them over to the couch, scooting so there was room for all four of them. Leen ran and jumped onto her usual seat cushion. Wiki’s approach was slower, despite Mama bouncing in place and gushing with obvious glee.
Anna spoke while Wiki sat. “I was just telling your parents we’re expanding the number of Cosmos Campers we’re bringing in this season. With an extra slot, we thought it made sense to keep such an epic team together.”
Leen’s goofy smile vanished. “Excuse me?”
Wiki wasn’t much happier. “Wait. You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”
“Is that you, Victoria? If so, then I’m definitely saying what you think I’m saying. Pack a bag! Tomorrow, you’re coming to Cosmos Camp too!”
2
That Was . . . Never a Thing
Mama clapped!
Dad pumped a fist in the air and hissed, “Yessss!”
Wiki and Leen were statues on the couch.
“Girls?” Anna said. “Pettygrew, did we lose ’em?”
“No, miss,” said another voice on the line. Pettygrew. Whoever that was.
Wiki spoke up. “We’re still here, Mrs. Thunkle.”
“Call me Anna, please.”
“Anna. This is a very cool offer, it’s just—”
Leen interrupted her. “Wiki didn’t even apply. How could she be the one who gets an extra slot if she didn’t fill out the form or write an essay?” Leen’s gaze whipped from Mama to Daddy. “Can you afford to send both of us?”
They were good questions. The right questions. Yet something sharp in her sister’s voice stung Wiki.
If anyone else detected Leen’s prickliness, they didn’t let on. Anna said, “Several factors played into our selection. Your essay was one of them!”
The smile that formed on Leen’s face was a scary thing, like an earthquake cracking the ground. “Say what?”
“Oh, we adored what you wrote about the many adventures you and your sister have been on. The teamwork. The love. Plus, I’m a bit biased being from Logan County too. So I’m more than happy to have two hometown heroes like the Epic Ellisons at camp this year.”
Wiki thought that was all fine and good . . . well, not really, but okay. Leen wrote an incredible essay. She was good at stuff like that. The other concern, the thing that loomed over all things Ellison lately, was still the money.
In one of the overheard conversations—or eavesdropped on, depending on how sneaky Wiki wanted to admit she was being—Daddy told Mama they were “stretching” to send Leen to Cosmos Camp, but it would be good for her because she’d be around the kinds of science and scientists she needed. Wiki knew that to be true. Being in Logan County their entire lives and having to work with scraps had made Leen incredibly innovative and resilient. A limit was still a limit, though, and there were only so many Leen could work around until, maybe, she decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Yet “stretching” was what they’d learned in language arts class to be a euphemism, a word people substituted for something harsh they didn’t want to say. In this case, it meant Mama and Daddy had a hard time affording the cost of Cosmos Camp. They’d have a harder time affording it when it was multiplied by two.
“The thing is,” Wiki began, ready to decline the invite in a way that wouldn’t embarrass Mama and Daddy, which simply meant being honest because she had no desire to attend Cosmos Camp, “I don’t wanna—”
“Keep you waiting!” said Daddy. “We’re going to get Wiki packed and ready to go by morning. So we’re all clear, this is for real? No take backs?”
