There's a certain calm before a storm. For us, it was a calm before a catastrophic helium leak in the living room.
It all started when Kairo declared that if we were serious about going to the moon, we needed to "simulate zero gravity."
I was chewing cereal out of a mug and said, "You mean, like, in water?"
He scoffed. "Water is for cowards and synchronized swimmers. Real space nerds use balloons."
I blinked. "What?"
He unrolled a blueprint he made out of a pizza box. "We fill the room with helium balloons. Then we strap ourselves in a harness system I designed using bungee cords and hope for the best."
"That sentence alone sounds like ten insurance violations."
"Which is why we don't tell anyone."
So we did it.
We filled the living room with over 400 helium balloons.
They bobbed against the ceiling like festive jellyfish. There were balloons in the sink. Balloons in the microwave. I think we accidentally trapped one inside the couch.
"Now we add the harnesses," Kairo said, grinning.
I narrowed my eyes. "Where did you get harnesses?"
"I borrowed them from an indoor rock climbing gym."
"Kairo!"
"They weren't using them. And I paid with… emotional validation."
"I'm going to die surrounded by rubber and your delusions."
He attached the cords to various furniture items using duct tape and hope.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No."
He jumped anyway, and I swear, for a brief, beautiful moment, he floated.
Then the chair anchoring his harness tipped over, the coffee table flipped, and Kairo slammed into the bookshelf like a space-themed pinball.
"Oof," he groaned.
"You okay?"
He gave a thumbs up from the floor. "My ribs hurt, but in a way that means I'm alive."
We tried again.
This time I was in the harness.
"I believe in you," Kairo said, holding a balloon in each hand like pompoms. "You are the moon princess we need."
"Don't call me that."
"You are majestic."
"Stop it."
"Float, my queen!"
I jumped.
For a second, I felt light. Like the world forgot to pull me down.
Then the duct tape snapped, and I landed on the cat.
"MEOWWW!"
"WHISKERS NO!"
The cat zoomed out of the room—straight into the balloon forest.
A moment later, we saw her tiny paws batting wildly as she floated upward.
"Oh no," I breathed.
"She's ascending," Kairo whispered. "Like the chosen one."
We chased her.
Through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen where she finally landed in the sink with a dramatic splash.
"I think she's emotionally scarred," I said, dripping wet.
"She's a pioneer," Kairo corrected.
The cat glared at him. A single balloon still clung to her tail.
I shook my head. "That's it. No more science experiments in the apartment."
"But Luna—"
"No buts!"
"Even if I got us sponsored?"
"…What?"
He pulled out a flyer from his hoodie pocket, now slightly crumpled and ketchup-stained.
'Young Inventor's Rocket Showcase — Cash Prize: $5,000'
My eyes widened. "You entered us in a contest?!"
"Well, I said 'we' were a genius duo redefining low-orbit DIY propulsion systems."
"We're what now?"
"And the presentation is tomorrow."
I stared at him.
Then stared at the mess of balloons, harnesses, and traumatized cat.
Then back at him.
"You better get the laser pointer. Whiskers is gonna need therapy."The next day arrived like a caffeinated squirrel — fast, loud, and mildly terrifying.
I woke up to Kairo standing over me in a lab coat made out of a shower curtain.
"Get dressed. Science calls."
"What's the dress code?"
"Questionable decisions."
We packed the rocket parts into a shopping cart because Kairo said it gave us "techno-hobo aesthetic."
I brought snacks.
He brought Kevin the Wrench, obviously.
---
The event was being held at a local science museum, in the "Multipurpose Discovery Room," which was basically the cafeteria with posters of Einstein taped to the walls.
Other participants had actual prototypes.
One kid had a tiny satellite with solar panels.
Another girl brought a fully functional robotic arm that could solve a Rubik's Cube while making you a smoothie.
We wheeled in our trashcan rocket, which squeaked like a dying seal.
People stared.
Kairo waved.
"I think we're gonna die," I whispered.
"We're gonna inspire," he replied, proudly sticking a googly eye on the rocket.
---
Each team had to give a 5-minute presentation.
As our turn approached, I started to panic.
"Kairo, we're going to humiliate ourselves."
"We already do that daily. Now we do it on a stage."
The announcer called our names.
We pushed our cart up the ramp.
Spotlights blinded me. Microphones hissed.
I froze.
Kairo didn't.
"Ladies and nerds," he began, "we present to you: The Lunatic Rocket Mark III, powered by dreams, duct tape, and an unhealthy amount of glitter."
The audience giggled.
I slowly unfroze.
"We believe space should be fun," I added, "and accessible—even to broke teens with engineering anxiety."
Kairo hit a button, and the rocket let out a tiny burst of confetti.
The crowd clapped.
One judge actually smiled.
I couldn't believe it.
---
Afterward, we were pulled aside by one of the judges—a woman in a sharp suit with a clipboard and laser-focus eyes.
"Your presentation was… unconventional," she said.
"Thank you," we both replied at once.
She paused. "But also inventive. And surprisingly, your propulsion math is solid. Who did the calculations?"
We both slowly pointed at each other.
She sighed. "We'd like to invite you for a mentorship program."
My jaw dropped.
Kairo blinked. "Like… a real one?"
"Real funding. Real engineers. Real opportunities."
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
And then we screamed.
Like, actually screamed.
In public.
Like seagulls who just found French fries.
---
Back at home, we collapsed on the floor.
"Did that really happen?" I asked.
"We didn't die, so yes," he replied.
I turned toward him. "You were amazing."
"You were brilliant."
"You duct-taped a rocket to a shopping cart."
"And it worked."
We high-fived.
Then we just… stared at the ceiling.
Balloons still floated up there.
The cat watched us from atop the fridge, deeply unimpressed.
And in that moment, with my hair smelling like helium and victory, I realized I was wildly, stupidly, cosmically in love with him.
---
He turned to me.
"Hey, Luna?"
"Yeah?"
"If we actually make it to the moon… will you kiss me there?"
I stared at him.
"You want a moon-kiss?"
"It's romantic."
"It's ridiculous."
"So is falling for someone while sitting in a pile of balloon strings."
I laughed.
And then I kissed him.
Not on the moon.
But it felt like zero gravity anyway.
---
[TO BE CONTINUED]