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Zusatztext “Elvie is such a strong female lead. She’s has a personality and isn’t a wimp! unlike some other female leads in big books. She really stood up for herself when she needed to! and I really like that. Overall! Mothership was a very interesting book to read! unlike any book I’ve ever read before. It was really funny with sad parts too- and I learned a new word or two!” Informationen zum Autor Martin Leicht decided at the age of three that he wanted to spend his life spinning stories! and he went on to receive his MA from the Goldberg Department of Dramatic Writing at NYU. He lives in New York City! though his heart will always be in Philadelphia. Martin Leicht and Isla Neal are the authors of The Ever Expanding Universe trilogy! which includes Mothership ! A Stranger Thing ! and The World Forgot . Isla Neal grew up in a small mountain town in Southern California and earned her MFA in Creative Writing for Children and Teens at the New School in in New York City! where she currently lives and works. Isla Neal and Martin Leicht are the authors of The Ever Expanding Universe trilogy! which includes Mothership ! A Stranger Thing ! and The World Forgot . Chapter One In Which Our Heroine Falls on Her Ass, Like, a Lot As far as scientists have been able to determine, the primary function of the human coccyx, or tailbone, is to remind us that once upon a time we were all monkeys or something. But I happen to know that it can still serve a useful purpose. Say, for example, that a pregnant teenager three weeks from her due date, who weighs, oh, approximately 145 pounds (lay off, all right? The baby loves ice cream), were shoved down forcefully on a Treadtrack in gym class by a bitchy cheerleader. This so-called vestigial growth would most definitely act as a shock absorber, preventing serious damage to the rest of said pregnant chick’s body. Basically what I’m trying to say is that evolution saved my ass. Well, evolution and the fact that when you’re orbiting the planet this high up, the artificial gravity is bound to be a little more forgiving. But that’s not nearly as poetic. I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars, seeing as I’m still in one piece, but instead I’m furiously scrambling to yank my pregnant keister off the Treadtrack and away from Britta McVicker. “Need some help?” she sneers in a tone that I’m sure is supposed to sound sincere. Britta is the aforementioned bitchy cheerleader. We go way back, Britta and I—too far, if you ask me. She doesn’t remember, but I’ve known the girl since she first mocked my Hercules lunch box in second grade. We are the only two students at the Hanover School who knew each other before the school year began. Because apparently the universe is not through punishing me just yet. I scramble to my feet quickly so that I don’t roll with the Treadtrack all the way into the wall. Balance is not my strongest trait at this point in my pregnancy, but I still have the maturity and poise to flip Britta the bird without stumbling again. Britta snorts. “Jeez, tubbo,” she says, beginning what I am already positive is going to be one of her classic McVicker slams, “how’d you ever trick anyone into pity screwing you?” That’s when one of Britta’s innies comes over to take in the scene. She’s this girl who glommed on to Britta the second we launched into orbit and who spends so much time stroking Britta’s ego that in my head I only ever think to call her Other Cheerleader. “Pity screw or not,” Other Cheerleader says, jerking her head in my direction, “the guy must’ve been blind and deaf.” And I have to admit, that one stings a little, until she decides to take it a step further. “And had, like, no sense of smell,” she adds. “And he also didn’t have—what’s the other one? Touch. Yeah, he was touchless.” I bite the in...
