Peyton sat at the oblong table and stared at her laptop. Eleven blue folders waited for her attention. Had she actually had a seizure yesterday? She'd never had a seizure before. Not that she knew of. Just the word seizure terrified her. She didn't remember much other than getting on to Sloan about cursing and then finding herself on the floor, Sloan towering above her, Commander Mitchell's voice in the background, thanking the girls for remaining calm. She'd spent the whole afternoon in sick bay—her vitals were all normal. There'd been no evidence of a seizure. The entire thing had been awful. Would she be diagnosed with some seizure disorder on her way to Mars? Would it happen again, and if so, could she do her job?

  Today her job was to be their teacher. The kids called Mondays "school days," and everyone hated them. She forced herself to arrive twenty minutes before the students, hoping to get in the right mindset. The role of academic advisor was laughable. Aside from Trevor and Mia's coursework, Peyton had no knowledge of how the other high schools ran their credit-bearing courses. Thank God each school agreed to use Smart Class to access lessons and submit assignments.

  During the first few months in space, the kid's commitment to virtual school had been commendable. However, now, it was like pulling teeth to get them to do anything. Her eleven juniors had a terrible case of senioritis.

  And who could blame them? Everything normal and structured became less relevant the closer they got to Mars. Even Earth seemed like a distant memory. No one talked about the foods they missed anymore. No one talked about anything, not with her anyway. Peyton glanced at the time and then out a portal-nothing but darkness peered back. But daylight was less than a week away. She'd pored over the journal logs from missions 1-5, trying to prepare. Most nights, those journals kept her up way too late, but knowing everything that had happened before might save a life, she told herself.

  "Don't touch me," Lilly hissed, blazing into the classroom, followed by Alex, his finger inches from her face.

  "Morning, Sunshines," Peyton said, not looking up.

  Neither student addressed Ms. Lawrence, taking seats as far away from her and each other as possible. The others trickled in, less angry, less awake except for Presley. Presley handed Peyton a caramel-flavored coffee from the galley.

  "Oh, thanks, Presley," Peyton said, reaching for the drink. "And thanks for coming to see me in sickbay. All my tests turned out to be normal."

  "That's great, Ms. Lawrence."

  "Butt kisser," Alex said loud enough for Peyton to hear.

  Peyton ignored it. She chose to ignore most of what Alex did. He wasn't her favorite. Was he her least favorite? Possibly, although Sloan was a massive pain in the ass, too. However, she'd stepped up yesterday during the seizure. Had she actually had a seizure? Holy shit. Just focus on what's in front of you, she reminded herself. Yes, Alex was definitely her least favorite. Presley was her favorite.

  Presley was extremely easy. She always brought coffee and completed her work on time. Peyton never dreaded opening her digital folder because Presley's work was routinely done and correct. Her teachers never sent emails. She couldn't say that about Camden, despite them having many of the same classes.

  Mondays were a popular day for teacher emails. Mondays were also one-on-one conference days. Who should she tackle first? Edward would be painless. No need to start with someone difficult like Alex, who loved nothing more than to argue, or Kai, who would like to get his work done but needed lots of support. Peyton counted to ten and said a quick prayer.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  "Edward," Peyton said, motioning for him to. "Everyone else, log in and check out your assignments for the week. No need to delay the inevitable."

  A collective groan boomeranged across the room as Edward stood. Peyton opened his folder, cross-referencing emails against the work he'd turned in. Edward sat silently, rigid. Something was off. Peyton let her eyes linger over his face, trying to identify the emotion. His eyes were puffy and swollen.

  "You okay today?" she asked, keeping things cool so as not to prompt a complete shutdown.

  Edward said nothing and remained utterly still except for his hands, which found each other and rested on his lap.

  Peyton was surprised. Edward was typically agreeable and open. He wasn't Presley, who truly wanted to please her. But still, there was a sense he wanted her to think highly of him. Edward was the type of kid whose decisions reflected what was best for the group. He recognized the mission was larger than himself.

  "It looks like you're missing an essay for Honors US History. Mr. Adams emailed me about it on Saturday. I'm sure you're aware. Are you struggling to start? Would you like me to look at the rubric with you?"

  "It's done. I just haven't submitted it," Edward said blankly.

  His thumbs began to circle each other, and Peyton stared at them, choosing her words carefully.

  "When's the last time you received a video message from home, Edward? You seem distracted. Can I do anything to help?"

  "What if some of these kids aren't ready to land? Can I refuse to be assigned with them once we start exploring?"

  Peyton considered the question, her mouth instantly dry. She glanced up, noting each student's position, trying to assess whether her conversation with Edward was private. Lilly, Presley, and Mia were watching a Khan Academy video. Mia kept stopping it and saying she didn't get it. Math was not a space girl's friend. Sloan was pulling Mary Jane's hair into intricate braids while she read a thick novel. The boys all sat motionless in front of their laptops as if overwhelmed by this week's work. Poor Kai looked defeated. They were fine. No one was listening to Edward or worrying about her having another seizure.

  Peyton turned her attention back to Edward, who appeared more distraught than before.

  "I can't say how they'll assign duties once we arrive, but if you're having issues with a teammate, Edward, I certainly want to hear about it."

  "My brother sent me a video message last night. He just turned 11. They had a big party. I miss him. I mean, I miss all my family, but it sucks that I missed the party. I just want to get home safely."

  "I understand. I miss my family, too," Peyton said, thinking more of Bryant and the easy routine of her life before this.

  "The thing is, Ms. Lawrence, my 11-year-old brother is more mature than some of these kids. How can I trust they won't get me killed? I signed up for this, thinking I might change the world. But we're only as good as our weakest link. My life literally depends on whether Camden can follow two-step directions or if Alex feels like being compliant. How are YOU going to control this team?"

  Peyton swallowed hard. Edward had just verbalized every nightmarish fear she had surrounding life after landing. She couldn't keep them in neat folders on Mars. Sloan alone cost her hours of sleep each week. Camden wasn't her top worry, although his impulsivity could prove hazardous. Edward wasn't wrong about Alex. Anxiety swirled in her skull. What could she say to make this kid feel better?

  "I've been reading mission journals every night, Edward, all of them, to prepare myself for the landing and after. There are protocols for everything, and a senior members of mission control will always be monitoring our location and our vitals. I can't promise nothing will go wrong, but they've planned well for us. We're a younger, less experienced group, meaning our tasks on Mars will be less dangerous and more guided. Does that make sense?"

  Edward shook his head and unlaced his fingers.

  "I hope you're right, Ms. Lawrence. It would be tragic if someone didn't make it home."

  And with that, Edward stood, shaking down the legs of his joggers.

  "I'll submit the essay and start this week's work. Thanks for listening."

  Peyton smiled uneasily, holding his gaze until he turned. Everyone will make it home, she thought. Any alternative was unthinkable.

  Edward sat back with the others and reached into his book bag. He pulled out his laptop, and as he did, a folded sheet of paper fell to the floor. Edward retrieved the paper quizzically, noticing something was written on it. The message was short. It made him smile.

  Dear Edward,

  Some of these kids are built different. We should come up with a nickname for Camden. How about mouth breather?

  XOXO

  Mary Jane