Chasing Orion by Kathryn Lasky Page A

of blue mist. And the Martians themselves had eyes like “golden coins” and transparent bodies through which the stars shone. There were ancient cities made of crystal and some of pink stone. It sounded more beautiful and fantastic than anything I could ever have dreamed of.
    My first instinct was to bring all my small worlds. But that would have taken at least four or five trips to carry them over, even with Evelyn’s help. Then I realized that if I showed them to her all at once, there would maybe be no reason for her to invite me back.

 
    So we went over the next day and I took the Saint George box. Emmett introduced Evelyn, and Phyllis seemed genuinely glad for the company. The first thing I realized was that Emmett had become an old hand at wheeling the iron lung around and checking its dials and pressure gauges and stuff. I had started to explain to Phyllis about the box and how I had made it all when Dr. Keller came out on the patio. He seemed like a jolly sort of person — very jolly.
    “Hi, Dad,” Phyllis said. “This is Emmett’s sister, Georgia, and her friend Evelyn. Georgie brought over this neat little diorama she’s made. Take a look. It’s very clever.”
    “Ah yes,” said Dr. Keller. But, in truth, he hardly looked, and I knew immediately that he didn’t think it was all that clever. He was anxious to show what he had brought, which I guess you would say was definitely clever. “Look at this! Finally finished it!”
    “Finished what?” Phyllis asked. Suddenly Saint George and the Dragon slid out from the mirrors, and then there were more mirrors, and instead Dr. Keller’s hands were reflected.
    “The new, improved double-reading mirror,” he said.
    “Of course,” Phyllis said quietly.
    “Well, honey, you should be excited. No more tiresome tongue-turning of pages.” That was how Phyllis read. Emmett had told me. They put a book on a rack. Since she could turn her head a little and had full use of her mouth and tongue, she had a device that was like a long spoon which she could bite down on and turn the pages. But apparently it was tiring. So this was the answer, and Dr. Keller, who was an engineer, had invented it. “Got a patent pending. We’re calling it the Phyllis. How about that?” He looked anxiously at Phyllis.
    “Fine,” she answered. Except I didn’t think she sounded all that thrilled about it. I looked at Evelyn. She blinked and sort of rolled her eyes as if she didn’t think Phyllis sounded all that fine about it either.
    “Hey, Emmett, help me set it up, won’t you?”
    “Sure, Dr. Keller.”
    “You know where I keep the power screwdriver down in my basement workshop, right?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    I couldn’t help but think that Emmett knew his way around the Kellers’ house almost as well as he knew his way around ours. In no time they had the Phyllis attached to the gleaming cylinder. But the weirdest thing of all was that here I had come expecting to see a real romance blossoming between Emmett and Phyllis, and Emmett seemed almost indifferent to Phyllis. He was much more interested in talking to Dr. Keller about the iron lung. I tried to remind myself of the scene Evelyn and I had witnessed — Emmett sliding his hand through the portal — but right now it was as if none of that had ever happened and my brother had fallen in love with a machine. This horrid breathing creature was another problem for Emmett to solve. He had even brought over an old high-school textbook of his on basic mechanical engineering. Emmett was as about as romantic as a toolbox!
    As they were working, Dr. Keller pointed out all the other little gadgets he had invented or devised and put on the iron lung so that it was absolutely “state-of-the-art.”
    “State-of-the-art” was a favorite expression of Dr. Keller. “Phyllis can do more, see more, perform more tasks than any other person in an iron lung. She has the most active, independent life of any respiratory poliomyelitis