By: Michael Colon

Sitting on the roof of my home, watching the universe, is one of my favorite things to do. My new telescope just came in the mail, and I can’t wait to use it as soon as this cloud moves out of the moon’s view. I had to save my allowance for three months to buy this telescope. I’m not allowed to sit up here, but I’d rather risk getting in trouble than go inside with my toxic family.

The cloud in the night sky drifts away from the full moon, so I lift the telescope to my eye. The moon only looks this enlarged a few times a year. Through the lens, I can see the craters on its white surface in stunning detail.

While looking at the glowing moon, I think about how I’d rather live there than in this house. I’d rather take my chances with aliens on the moon than stay here in Lucid’s farming sector.

I put the telescope down and pick up my favorite rocket model—the one I made a few days ago. I fly it around the moon from where I sit. I have dozens of spaceship models in my room, but for some reason, this one feels special. The red flames I painted on it, the star stickers—everything makes this pretend mission to the moon more exciting. I wave the ship above my head, back and forth, pretending I’m launching into space.

Then I see my mom’s truck pulling into the garage. It’s time for my space journey to end. I land my ship and climb down from the roof.

I sit on my bed, waiting for it to happen.

The sound of glass shattering silences the house. That’s what I was waiting for.

I peek out of my bedroom and see my mom stumbling around while my older sister tries to keep her steady. I roll my eyes and slam my door. My mother comes home drunk like this often.

Holding my favorite rocket, I wish it were real—so it could take me far away. My sister always says I have a big imagination.

The next morning, I line up for roll call with my five older brothers outside. Isabella, my sister, is in charge of helping Mom with the family farming business. Lucid City is our biggest client. My older brothers? They’re the worst. They whisper stupid comments about me until Isabella steps out with her clipboard.

She assigns everyone their tasks. Now it’s my turn.

“Jacob, today you’re going to feed the animals in the barn. Then clean the barn. After that, come find me—I’ll show you how to inspect crops.”

My brothers smirk but try to hold in their laughter. They all think I can’t do anything right. Everyone heads off. I walk past Isabella to grab the barrel of feed and supplies.

“Jacob, wait,” she says.

I sigh and lower the wheelbarrow.

“Do you want to talk about last night? You’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t want to be here. This family sucks. Between my annoying brothers who pick on me and our drunk mother, I’d rather run away.”

“I don’t want you to run away. I know things aren’t how they should be, but I always want what’s best for you. I know how hard our brothers can be. They’re hard for me too. As for Mom… she’s been through a lot—running the family business and dealing with Dad’s choice. There’s nothing we can do about that now.”

“Can’t blame Pops for bailing.”

“Jacob, please stop that. Look, I don’t want you running away. Please don’t do that—for me. Okay?”

I grab the handles and walk away.

At the barn, I feed the animals and sweep the floors. After cleaning, I sit in the middle of the barn and pull out my rocket.

“Operator to mission control. Start the engines. Blasting off in three… two… one.”

I raise the rocket skyward, making engine noises. Right now, this barn is a new planet, and the animals are alien lifeforms.

Another mission, cut short.

My brothers kick open the barn doors and grab me. A few hold me while the others toss my rocket like a football.

“Stop it!” I shout.

Of course they don’t.

One throws it too hard. The other misses the catch. My rocket crashes and shatters.

They run out of the barn laughing.

I crawl to the broken model and chase after them, smacking one of them from behind. They all pile on me in the middle of the field.

I get up, brushing off dirt.

I look up and wish the aliens would land already and take me away.

Isabella sees the mark on my face when I meet her in front of the house.

“How did you get that?” she asks.

“Those dufuses. That’s how.”

She pinches her nose and looks fed up. There’s a lot on her plate.

“Okay. I’ll talk to them.”

At one of the crop fields, Isabella shows me how to inspect the plants and where to check the boxes on the sheet.

After finishing my chores, I go to my room to build a new rocketship. I glance out the window and see Isabella scolding my brothers. I pull the blinds closed and get to work.

Every one of these rockets has its own story of space adventure. With my toolkit—glue, screws, widgets—I build something that makes me feel safe in this toxic house.

I finish it. It looks just like the one they destroyed, but with some new details.

I fly it around the room, past my posters and the ceiling stars. I glide it out to the front porch and stop.

Mom is there with her whiskey.

She scowls. I give her a nasty look.

“You think you’re too good to be my son?”

“Is that your twentieth glass today?”

“I don’t think a son is supposed to talk like that to their mother.”

“I don’t think a mother is supposed to suck.”

She stumbles toward me with the whiskey bottle. She’s too drunk to hit me. I bolt into the crop fields.

Among the tall stalks of corn and wheat, I fly my rocket again. I pretend I’m navigating an alien jungle. This is how I escape toxic moments—by traveling to other worlds in my head.

I keep walking until I reach the edge of the property—the freeway to Lucid City. I could leave right now. No one would know.

Who am I kidding?

If I can’t even handle my idiot brothers, how could I survive out there?

I walk back, head down.

Later that evening, I’m on the roof again. Isabella sees me, but I climb down and go inside. We sit down to play a board game.

She keeps saying the roof is dangerous. She’s probably right.

We all know what’s about to happen.

Mom stumbles into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom,” Isabella says.

No reply. She fumbles to the cabinet, grabs a glass, pours her drink, and spills it on the floor. Isabella gets up to help.

“There’s my favorite son who loves me more than anything,” Mom says to me, dripping with sarcasm.

I stay quiet, ready to leave the room.

She slams her glass down.

“Out of all my boys, you look the most like your father. So disgusting.”

“Hey, that wasn’t nice,” Isabella says.

“Shut up.”

“No—you shut up. No wonder Dad left.”

My brothers walk in.

Mom walks up and slaps me across the face. Hard.

The room goes silent. I put my hand on my cheek. It stings.

“You’re good for nothing—just like your father.”

She stumbles out. My brothers say nothing.

That’s it. Tomorrow night, I’m leaving. No one’s stopping me.

Isabella knocks on my door. I yell at her to go away. I turn on the TV to escape into my favorite space show—but a breaking news segment takes over.

“Good evening,” says the news anchor. “Robert Callahan here, live from Lucid City’s north river sector. The unexplainable occurred just moments ago. Bright flashing lights filled the sky above abandoned warehouses, followed by an earth-shaking explosion. Take a look.”

The screen cuts to shaky footage: lights swirl across the night sky, then—boom. A massive flash, and people scatter in panic.

Back to the anchor.

“As of now, this area is off-limits. Expect delays. Robert Callahan, Lucid News 1.”

I inch closer to the screen. I rewind the lights over and over. Then I open my window and grab my telescope.

I search the sky.

Maybe the aliens are still here. Maybe they’ll come get me.

The next day, I do my chores. My brothers don’t say a word. They all look guilty. But it’s too late. I’ve already made my decision.

Isabella tries to talk to me. I ignore her. Mom is bedridden with a hangover. Good.

While sweeping the barn, I find an old photo under one of the stables: Dad holding me as a baby. I tear it in half and throw the broom down.

Isabella comes in and picks it up.

“Jacob. I get why you’re angry. But you need this to finish cleaning.”

“Tell my degenerate mother to do it herself.”

I turn to leave. She grabs me for a hug.

“My precious little brother. I’m so sorry for what happened last night. Maybe we can—”

“Maybe nothing.”

That night, while everyone sleeps, I sneak out.

I walk along the freeway with my rocket and a kitchen knife, just in case. I stick out my thumb, and a pickup truck pulls over.

“Aren’t you a little young to be traveling alone?” the man asks.

“Can you take me to the city?”

“How much cash you got?”

I hand him my allowance, and he drives me to downtown Lucid City.

I grab a map from a tourist stand. The towering neon skyscrapers, the crowds, the noise—everything is overwhelming. This isn’t like home at all.

I make my way to the piers—the crash site.

It’s taped off. Police stand guard. News vans speed in. Robert Callahan sets up for a live report.

“Good evening, Lucid City. The lights last night? Not supernatural. The explosion? A faulty transformer. The lights? Just a rare weather phenomenon.”

I slump near one of the factories and sit on the ground with my model rocket.

I’m going to be grounded forever. Might as well stay here.

Then, in a dark corner, I hear someone whimpering.

A boy, about my age, curled up.

“Why are you crying?” I ask.

“I ran away from home. I need help getting back.”

“What’s your name?”

“Glow.”

“What are the chances,” I say. “I ran away too.”

“I want to go home,” Glow says softly.

“I can help you get back. I don’t plan on going home—but maybe I can stay with you instead.”

Glow stands up and walks out of the warehouse. I follow.

He seems to know every hidden alley and shortcut in Lucid City. As we walk, he tells me about his family. He also has many older brothers and a sister who cares about him. He left to see what else was out there.

“Where’s your family from?” I ask. “I’ve never heard a name like Glow before.”

“Where I’m from doesn’t matter. We’re friends, right?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re right—it doesn’t matter. Just curious. Friends give each other gifts. Here.”

I hand him the model rocket I made.

“Thank you, friend.”

Glow pulls out two rail train tickets.

We board a high-speed train and sit side by side. He keeps his eyes fixed on the night sky the entire ride.

Eventually, we step off at the farmlands and begin walking along the freeway. It’s kind of cool that he lives out here too. I just wish it wasn’t so close to home.

“We’re almost home, Jacob,” he says as we stop in front of my house.

“I thought I was helping you get home?”

“My home is far, far away. But I had to bring you back first. You can’t come with me.”

Suddenly, the rocket floats upward from his hands.

“How are you doing that?” I ask.

Glow’s body lights up in a burst of brilliant color—just like the lights from the news report.

“There’s a lot your kind doesn’t understand yet,” he says. “Now I can go home, knowing there’s another species out there—one capable of love. One that has families. You spent so much time searching the stars with your telescope… but sometimes the unknown and the amazing are right in front of us. That’s what I see in you.”

I stare at him, heart racing. “Are you an alien? An angel? Some kind of interdimensional being?”

“I’m all of those,” Glow answers with a smile.

The rocket begins to glow too—matching his light—as it floats in mid-air. Then it hovers toward me. I reach out and catch it. The lights fade, but the warmth lingers.

“You wanted this rocket to take you somewhere better. It will. Now I can go back home. Thank you, friend.”

Glow’s body dissolves into a cloud of sparkles, ascending into the night sky.

Inside, my mom sits near the fireplace with a drink in hand.

“Your sister and brothers are out looking for you,” she says. “I told them you wouldn’t want to come back. So… what are you doing here?”

“I don’t know. I just did.”

She stands, staring down at the floor.

“I made this,” I say, holding up the rocket. “Thought you might want to see it.”

She takes it. The rocket begins to glow—brightly, vividly—floating in the air again.

The lights reflect off the walls, bathing the house in warm, dancing colors. In those lights, I see her burdens. I see the sorrow in her heart.

My brothers and Isabella burst through the door, rushing inside. When the rocket’s light touches them, I see it again: the pain they carry too.

Now I understand what Glow meant.

I run to my mom and hug her. The rocket’s glow soothes her. All the pain dissolves into sparkles and rises—just like Glow did.

My mother collapses to the floor, not in pain, but as if a great weight has been lifted. My siblings gather around her, worried, but I know she’ll be okay now.

A month later, I sit on the roof with my telescope, gazing at the stars. I wonder if I’ll ever see Glow again—just to thank him.

“Jacob, dinner’s ready,” my mom calls from the porch.

She’s been sober ever since I came back. The greatest space adventure I ever went on didn’t take me to the stars—it brought my family back together.

My brothers have been kind to me. Isabella doesn’t carry everything on her shoulders anymore.

Before dinner, I place the rocket on the table—

the one that took me somewhere better.

The one that brought me home.