"I don't want to hear no excuses," his father said. "I want you to tell me what I told you about bringing people to the house."

Colin looked at John and saw his friend did not appear discouraged. The old John would've turned and fled the house but Colin sensed a newfound cockiness in his friend.

"You don't like anybody coming here," Colin answered.

"Not only did you leave the house without cleaning, you disobeyed my rules and brought somebody home," his old man said, taking a long gulp, crushing the empty beer can. He threw the twisted piece of aluminum on the table, knocking a few other empties on the floor.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have something-"

"I don't care what you have," Colin's father interrupted. "There's going to be trouble unless you don't send that boy home and clean up this mess."

Colin knew when to avoid prodding the bull. His father was in no mood to listen to Colin's good news, let alone give his approval and fill out the necessary forms. The best way to deal with this situation was to give his father some time and get to him when he was in a better mood. Embarrassed, he turned to John, who still stood confidently by the door.

"Sorry, dude. I don't think now is the best time," Colin said, speaking low enough so only Colin heard. "Maybe we should try again some other time."

"But the deadline for the paperwork is only days away and we're all here right now," John said, not understanding that Colin's father was in no mood to be bothered.

"He's only going to get angrier and say no if I keep pushing," Colin said.

John looked over his friend's shoulder and saw Colin's father watching a news program on television. Without saying another word, John walked around his friend and approached the recliner.

"So what's going on in the world today?" John asked.

Colin's father turned in surprise and looked at the boy who had the nerve to stay in his house.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear," the old man said. "I don't want no company right now, or ever for that matter. Unless you want Colin to get in more trouble, you better turn around and leave."

Colin actually wanted John to leave more than his father did. While his father became more annoyed, Colin grew increasingly fearful of how he'd react when the two of them were alone. But John showed no fear or panic.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McKay, but I need a few minutes of your time," John pressed. "Believe me, I wouldn't bother you unless it was important for your son. We have some very good news you should hear."

Colin's father was not used to somebody ignoring his demands. From the look on his face, Colin could tell the old man was about to explode. He stood from his recliner and stepped toward John, as if they were about to fight. John stood still as a statue and continued to stare Colin's father right in the eye.

"I hope you aren't going to tell me that the two of you is boyfriends," Colin's father said. "Because I ain't living with no gay son."

"No, Dad, it's nothing like that," Colin said. John did not seem the least bit affected by Mr. McKay's pathetic attempt to offend him. Regardless of how his father would act once John left, Colin could at least admit that his friend had gotten the old man's attention, even if this was not the best way to start off the conversation.

"I'll listen to what you have to say," his father said. "But once you done, you're getting out of my house. And Colin...well, let's just say that you won't be going to your precious ball field for the next few weeks. Now tell me what's so important."

When John turned to Colin, he had a grin on his face, as if they had already won the battle. Only Colin knew the real war was just beginning...

Colin stood frozen, waiting for John to begin the explanation. His friend turned to him and waited for Colin to speak.

"As you know I start high school this year, Dad," Colin said. "And John is going to the Zwier Academy."

"The what Academy?"

"Zwier," Colin said, making sure to pronounce the name slowly and clearly to avoid any confusion.

"Isn't that the rich, preppy school where all the muckity-mucks send their kids?" his father asked.

"It's one of the best private high schools in the country, sir," John interceded.

"Yeah, I know the place you're talking about," Mr. McKay said. "I did some construction work over there a few years ago. All the students looked at me like I was some kind of trash or something. What about the place?"

Great, he already has fond memories of the school, Colin thought, knowing that every word he spoke made his chances for approval more and more worthless.

"Like I said, John will be going to Zwier next year-"

"Good for John," his father interrupted. "I still don't see what none of this has to do with me."

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just getting there," Colin said. "John's father knows some very influential people at the academy and after pulling some strings with the admissions office, he got me accepted to Zwier, too."

Colin's father appeared confused for a moment, as he looked from his son to John and then back again. While Colin did not have high expectations for how his father would react to the news, he was shocked when a grin appeared on the old man's face. Colin hoped the smile would be one of pride or happiness but it was neither. When his father's laughter began, Colin knew his reaction wasn't what he hoped for.

"Me send you to private school?" his father asked between bouts of laughter. Just as suddenly as the laughing began, the old man's face twisted into its normal look of cruelty. "Do you know how much those kindsa schools cost? You think I would spend that kind of money to let you learn with the snobs, especially when there's a free public school just around the corner?"

Sensing it was time for another interjection, John stepped forward again.

"My father already took care of the financial issues," John said.

"Sorry, kid, we don't take no charity here," Colin's father said, taking a threatening step toward John. "Besides, I know how things work. These rich schools don't just accept kids from the wrong side of the tracks."

"No, Dad, it's not charity from Mr. Fare," Colin said, before John could inflict further damage. "It's a scholarship from the school."

"A scholarship?" his father asked in disbelief. "Your schools never sent no honor roll bumper sticker for my truck. Why would they want to offer you a scholarship?"

"It's an athletic scholarship," Colin said. "For baseball. I had a tryout and they liked me so much they offered me a full scholarship."

"That means you would have to pay nothing," John said.

"I know what that means," Mr. McKay snapped at John. "But that doesn't mean you can go without my permission. And if you think I'm going to let you go to some fancy-pants school just because you're good at some silly sport, you must be out of your damn mind. Besides, you should start learning a craft for when you have to work in four years. Playing some silly game ain't gonna help with that."

"But, Dad, if I go-"

"I said no," his father yelled. Mr. McKay took a step toward both boys and Colin immediately flinched. His father had been pushed too far. Instead, he walked right by the two of them and opened the door. "Now I'm going to the bar for a while. You better make sure your little friend here is gone by the time I get back."

With that, Colin's father slammed the door to the house and to his son's future at the Zwier Academy.

Colin's father was gone the rest of the day. Soon after he stormed out of the house, Colin sent John home, thanking him for helping but telling him he needed time alone. In reality, Colin did not want his friend to see him cry, which he feared he might do. But strangely enough, even though every emotion Colin felt made it seem like tears should come, they never did. Disappointment was something he'd grown used to in his life. He felt almost indifferent to his father's decision. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the constant pressure of succeeding at baseball that would've followed him at Zwier.

Dealing with his father's decision was made easier because Colin's favorite baseball player, Jeremy Walker, played in a nationally televised game that night. Much to Colin's delight, Walker smacked two home runs, but his team was unable to generate any more offense and the game went into extra innings. When Walker stepped to the plate in the bottom of the twelfth with the bases loaded and only one out, Colin just knew his hero would come through in the clutch.

Unfortunately, Colin had to wait to see the next day's highlights. The other team made a pitching change as soon as Walker reached the plate and during the ensuing commercial break, Colin heard the crashing sound of his father's truck running into the trash cans yet again. That was a mess Colin would have to clean up in the morning but he had no time to worry about that now. It was a few minutes shy of midnight and Colin's father would not be happy to see his son still awake. Instead of turning off the TV and running to bed, Colin flipped on the news channel. If he weren't watching a 'silly baseball game,' maybe his father wouldn't be upset. Better yet, if his father came in and passed out right away, maybe Colin could flip back in time to see the end of the game.

The news was running another story of the continuing feud between President Marshall and Vice-President Brighton, who was currently in the middle of his Presidential campaign. Colin followed the campaign to a certain extent; he was forced to watch the news whenever his father was home. A big news story hit the airwaves less than a month ago about Marshall kicking Brighton out of some kind of meeting, but Colin could not remember the specifics. This story did not seem as big a deal as that fight. In fact, even though the anchorman began the report by saying the vice-President still took shots at the President, the ensuing clip of Brighton's speech did not seem very insulting as far as Colin was concerned.

"What are you still doing up?" Colin's father asked when he stumbled through the front door.

Colin hoped his father drank enough beers to forget his anger from earlier.

"Just watching the news," Colin said.

Colin's father gave him a look of suspicion but the old man stumbled to his recliner and plopped down.

"The news, huh? What's the main story?" he asked, the words sounding more likes grunts than the English language.

"The vice-President and the President are still arguing," Colin said simply, hoping his father would not ask any follow-ups.

"Oh yeah? I like that Anthony Brightman, he's a good vice-President," his father said. "I'm glad he's not supporting that idiot President of ours."

Colin was relieved to hear his father's drunken ramblings. If his dad could not remember the vice-President's first name, Colin figured there was no way he could remember their discussion from earlier.

"I'm going to bed now," Colin said, standing up from the couch.

"Wait, I'm not through with you, boy," his father said. "I been thinking about that school you want to go to. I didn't like the way you and that friend of yours ambushed me earlier with the news."

This was what Colin feared would happen; he felt like kicking himself for not hurrying to his room when he heard his father's truck. Now his father was drunk, would want to yell at him (or worse) about earlier and Colin would not see the end of the game.

"I'm sorry, sir. But John just wanted to come in case you had any questions that I couldn't answer," Colin said. "I never should've put you in that position so I'm sorry. Nothing like that will ever happen again, I promise."

"You can go to that school if you want," his father said.

The words slurred together so it sounded like his father mumbled one long word. It took a few seconds for Colin's mind to register what the words really meant. When he figured it out, Colin immediately asked his father to repeat himself.

"I said you can go to that school if you want," his old man said. "As long as I don't got to pay for nothing. And the minute your chores start not getting done, I'll take you right out."

"They won't, I promise," Colin said, unsure of the words to express gratitude toward his father. "Why did you change your mind?"

Colin knew he should just shut up and be thankful but it seemed strange that his father would have a sudden change of heart.

"I just got to thinking at the bar," he said. "What right do I have to run your life?"

Colin's father stood from his recliner.

"Now I'm going to bed before I pass out on this chair," he said. He tried standing a few times, but kept collapsing before finally getting to his feet.

Colin did not know if the alcohol was talking or whether it was his father but he was not going to let this opportunity pass without getting everything in writing.

"Actually, could you hold on a minute?" he asked.

"For what?" his father asked.

"I'll be right back," Colin said. He jumped from the couch and ran into his bedroom, grabbing the forms for Zwier before rushing back to the living room, where his father flipped back to the baseball game. Walker's team won and a highlight showed the grand slam he hit just moments before.

"Looks like your team won," his father said. "What you got in your hand?"

"Just a few forms that need to be filled out for school," Colin said, wondering if he was pressing his luck. "Could we could fill them out tonight so I can mail them in the morning?"

"Sure, why not?" his father said.

Colin handed the papers to him. He watched his father's eyes have trouble focusing but his old man filled out several pages of paperwork. Colin sat in silence as his father trudged through the forms. It was well after two in the morning before everything was completed.

His father stood from the chair and handed the papers to Colin.

"There, everything's signed and ready to go," he said. "But I meant what I said, your chores better be done every day, regardless of homework or baseball practice or whatever it is you do. The second you mess up, I'll throw you right into public school."

"Thank you, sir," Colin said as his father stumbled away. His old man grunted in return but Colin did not hear what he said.

Colin wanted to call John and tell him the good news but that could wait for the morning. Instead, he looked through the forms and found everything filled out how it needed to be. His father's signatures looked like chicken scratch and weren't even in the small boxes provided, but they were there nonetheless and should be good enough for Colin to gain admittance to the Zwier Academy.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE.

AUGUST 22, 2016.

FOUR YEARS UNTIL IMPACT...

After another long day of training nearly ten hours split between the classroom, the virtual reality simulators and the training pool Lillian Edwards and the rest of her team finally had some time to relax. Although her crew shared a large living space with three other teams, Lillian's devoted teammates stayed to themselves in one corner of the large barracks.

The construction-training program had been nothing short of strenuous. But over the course of seven months, Lillian's team, as well as the 14 other teams-in-training, made incredible progress in their hopes to one day work in space. While a few recruits dropped out during the last half-year, the majority of college kids remained in the difficult training program. Having to endure the rigors of training transformed the teams into 15 separate tight-knit groups. Although all the recruits had a good rapport with one another, the 15 teams knew they were competing with one another.

The training program began in mid-January, and all of the recruits were given basic training in what the program and life in space would entail. Less than a month later, the recruits were split into 15 separate teams and were told they'd compete with one another for the right to go into space. Each team chose a leader soon after their formation and though a few of the guys found it a hard pill to swallow, Lillian had been chosen to represent her squad. Although she'd expected no less from herself, the fact that she had gained enough respect from her fellow teammates filled Lillian with pride.

The professors and trainers who ran the program then explained the specifics of competition. Tests were given on a daily basis in each of three sectors of training, ranging from a written test on docking procedures to a test in the virtual-reality simulators on the quickest and most efficient ways to move in formation in space. Points were awarded for each test and a running tally of the leading teams was always kept posted on a large scoreboard outside the building that housed the pool simulating zero-gravity conditions.

At the end of today, Lillian's crew walked by the scoreboard and found they'd pulled to within ten points of the first place team. Ten points was virtually nothing. Had they shaved a few seconds off their time in the pool or answered a few more questions correctly in the classroom, they could easily be in first place. On the long walk back to the barracks, the crew lamented about how they could have done things differently, how they needed to do better tomorrow though most of their tests were executed in a near flawless manner. Lillian's team had lingered in the middle of the pack less than two months ago but their astounding progress leapfrogged them over six teams in six weeks. She had no doubt they would need only days before grabbing the number one position.

The success of Lillian's crew brought their squad closer together yet farther from other teams. In fact, none of her team members had interacted socially with any other team in nearly a month, even though crews lived right across the room. Lillian suspected other teams were envious of their success and that was why they were ostracized by the others. But in reality, her crew began to feel so superior that they ignored their inferior competition. Lillian did not like that her crew became snobbish toward the others but if it brought them closer and made them a better team, she certainly wouldn't do anything to stop it. She just hoped the teams didn't have to share such a small space much longer, especially since the warehouse they lived in was old and the Army cots they slept on were ancient. At least the teams on the first floor had a lot more space to get away from one another...

The warehouse that provided living quarters for the teams was situated on the west end of the huge NASSA compound. Much smaller than most other buildings at the 1,000+-acre facility, the warehouse was so far from other buildings that it was mostly forgotten by those who worked at the compound. The recruits were told that it had once acted as a storage facility for spare shuttle parts, but those parts were long gone, most of them shipped off to different science museums or space-history exhibits. The bottom floor was larger than the top and housed the remaining eleven teams. The top floor had gotten less populated a few months earlier when some of the cots were taken for another NASSA facility somewhere in the U.S.

"I miss my girlfriend," said a guy named Parker, one of the six recruits gathered around Lillian's cot. "I have this feeling she's cheating on me since I've been gone so long."

It was not unusual for Lillian's team to gather at the end of the day and just talk, usually about their families and friends from home. Though Lillian missed her parents at times, she was definitely in the minority about not missing her home life . But she did not mind listening to her fellow teammates reminisce about their lives and their loved ones and their hometowns scattered across the country.

"Why do you think she's cheating on you?" Lillian asked.

Parker Smith was tall and skinny and lived in Texas. He and Lillian quickly became friends once the teams were announced. Having lived in the northeast part of the U.S. for most of her life, Lillian always imagined male Texans to be big and strong and ready to lasso steer at any moment. She knew that was only a stereotype, but it was one not fully discredited until she met Parker. Parker was not the type of person to wear a cowboy hat. He was supremely intelligent, the only person Lillian felt was smarter than herself. Parker would have been the perfect choice to lead their team from an intelligence standpoint but for some reason Lillian could never figure out, he preferred taking orders to giving them.

"Hold on, I'll show you why I think that," Parker said. He ran over to his cot and opened the trunk underneath it. Parker pulled out an envelope and brought it over to the group. He handed it to Lillian. "Open it up and read it and tell me if you think I'm just being too paranoid."