The Space Mission Adventure by Sharon M. Draper Page A

Ziggy.
    â€œLet’s go over this stuff, so the Black Dinosaurs Space Team is ready,” Rico said. “I can’t believe my dad is taking us all the way to Huntsville,Alabama, for the weekend. I hope it’s warmer there than it is here in Ohio!”
    â€œYour dad is the bomb, mon,” Ziggy exclaimed. “I know you only see him on vacations and stuff, but that is so cool that he’s a pilot in the air force.”
    â€œYeah, my dad really is all right,” Rico replied. “He took me up in a jet last year on my birthday.”
    â€œAwesome!” Jerome said.
    â€œDid you throw up?” Ziggy asked.
    â€œOf course not! You focus on the strangest things, Ziggy.” Rico shook his head.
    â€œHow long will it take to get there?” Rashawn asked.
    â€œMy dad says about seven hours by car. We go from Cincinnati, through Louisville, Kentucky, and Nashville, Tennessee, all the way down to Huntsville. But that’s not counting stops at fast-food places or to see cool stuff,” Rico told him.
    â€œYou think we can find our hometown chili dogs in Alabama?” Jerome asked. “Cincinnati makes the best chili in the world.”
    â€œYou know, every city thinks its chili is the best,” Rico replied with a grin.
    â€œIt’s even better if you put jelly on your chili dogs, mon,” Ziggy said cheerfully. “Gives them that extra-sweet flavor!”
    â€œYuck!” Jerome, Rashawn, and Rico all threw sofa pillows at Ziggy, who dodged them easily.
    â€œSo, what do we take with us besides bug spray?” Jerome asked as he glanced at the stacks of papers that Rico was handing each of them.
    â€œThere are no bugs in space, mon!” Ziggy said with authority, holding two of the sofa pillows on his lap.
    â€œYeah, but I bet there are plenty in Huntsville!” Jerome replied. “I take no chances, my man!”
    â€œLet’s see,” Rico said, reading from the top page of the instructions. “Toothbrush and stuff, pajamas, socks, deodorant . . .”
    â€œDon’t forget that!” Rashawn said with a laugh.
    â€œIt also says not to bring portable music players or handheld video games,” Rico continued.
    â€œNot even my Mega Mighty Martian Blasters game?” Ziggy asked with dismay. “How will we practice dealing with invading Martian spacemen without that game?”
    â€œMaybe we’ll get real information instead of pretend video-game stuff,” Rico replied sensibly.
    â€œYou mean it’s not real? There aren’t any Martians out there ready to attack Earth, mon?” Ziggy rolled off his chair and onto the floor, making zapping sounds like a space weapon.
    â€œProbably not, Ziggy,” Jerome told him. “But maybe you can ask somebody about it when we get there.”
    â€œIf there’s even just a possibility that Martian invaders might be real, I want to be ready, just in case. Martians are purple, have three heads, and spit fire, you know, unless they’re in disguise. They can make themselves look like anything they want—a cat, a dog, even an Earthling.”
    â€œHow do you know this?” Rashawn asked him.
    Ziggy looked at him with surprise. “Because I’ve played the game a million times, mon!”
    Rico laughed. “What else did you learn from that game, Ziggy?”
    â€œMartians live in trees and eat rocks, mostly. But they have a special fondness for chocolate-covered pickles, just like I do, so they can’t be all bad!”
    â€œI bet the folks at Space Camp don’t know any of this,” Jerome told Ziggy.
    â€œWell, I’ll be sure to tell them! I guess the future of the planet is going to depend on me, mon,” Ziggy said. “I can’t wait to get to Space Camp!”

ONE WEEK LATER, ON A FROSTY, COOL MORNING, THE four friends loaded their bags into the back of Rico’s dad’s big SUV.
    â€œIt’s so early, the birds