A WALK TO THE STARS

sses that seemed to want nothing more than to slide off his nose. He wasn't suited for middle school-he was lanky, quiet, agricultura

n Middle School nickname of "Wormhole Weirdo," during which he explained with enthusiasm while his classmates snic

limpses of the gray drizzling sky outside. His history notebook was open, but there were no notes about textile mills; instead, the margins were crowded with swirling vortexes, arrows shining through space, and tiny equations he had copied from another book about Einstein's theories in the

aning back in his seat with his smile revealing trouble. "Yeah, Wormhole Weirdo," Tommy drawled loud enough for the whole class to hear. "Tell us about the space portals again." The class howled with laughter. Each of the original red spots erupting over my cheeks stung even hotter. I sunk lower in my ch

st month, but the llama-lover marketers were much more a gold mine- wormhole sketches and equations, and cute little notes in the corners like "negative energy=key?" Tommy flipped to the latest one, a swirling funnel with arrows and numbers, and held it up in the air like it was trophy. "Your ticket to nerdville?" he sneered and tossed it to buddy Ryan, who then tossed it to another kid. They played ke

uld take a breath free from his parents hovering over him. The air smelled of damp earth and resin: sharp, fresh. He crunched into the ground with every step as he meandered through the trees. He passed the old oak tree that he carved his initials in two summ

etter than the real world. He flipped back to an older page, one with a diagram showing spacetime bending like a rubber sheet, and traced it with his finger. "If I could just figure the energy part...". He trailed off, thinking of the possibilities. What if he could visit a star system that had a sky lit up with

two years ago after the divorce, dad would sit with Jasper on the porch, pointing out the constellations. "That's Orion," he would say, tracing the hunter's belt with his finger. "There's the Big Dipper. Jasper, there's a whole universe waiting for you." The thought

ouble underlined that quote and scratched in the corner, "Negative energy-exotic matter? Research." He didn't totally get it; exotic matter was way over his pay grade-but it seemed like magic, the sort of magic he might believe in. He began ske

feet away a patch of moss was glowing green and basking in a beam of stray sunlight. He'd spent countless hours here together over the years, mostly reading or simply contemplating. Once, while trying to do the cool thing and build a fort out of arrayed fallen branches, but when it ultimately cru

It was not sound in his head; it pummeled loudly and low, and it felt as if it had real mass, vibrating the pine cones around his feet. He placed his hand on the trunk of a pines and felt the sensation come up into his arm; a dull buzz that made him grind his teeth. "This is n

tripped over a root and instead grabbed onto a low branch. "Get it together, Jasper," he said, trying to kid himself, curious to the max. The hum was clearer now, a constant drone that sounded like some force from the

rating the center of it. It wasn't sunlight or a torchlight; it was too vivid, too alive, almost like liquid star-glitter pooled in the earth. Jasper's breath caught. For a moment, his notebook slipped out of his hand, thumping to the ground beside the glow. "A wormhole?" he mu

ng but determined. "The real deal." A shortcut in space - maybe to Mars, maybe home, fleeing from Tommy and those puddle stompers. His fingers skittered over the strange light, momentarily forgetting the notebook. Every nerdy fiber of his being told him to try it, t

them. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and took a leap forward. The light erupted, engulfing him completely. Jasper let out a shout as the world went fuzzy, poured down a tunnel of stars that began roaring around him. Colors evaporated as streaks of colors - blues, whites, purples - moved past them. The colors burned and Wil