The alarm clock buzzed insistently on the nightstand, its red digits flashing 6:30 AM like an angry warning that this world is ending. He stretched his hands while his eyes squinted for him to reach the alarm.
"Shut up please!!". He muttered.
Darren Hayes groaned, burrowing deeper under the faded blue comforter that had seen better days. The room was a typical teenage mess posters of galaxies,space shuttles plastered,rocket propulsion equations,with a large poster of Lebron James on the walls, a model rocket half-assembled on the desk, and clothes strewn across the floor like casualties of a late-night study session. Outside, the Montana dawn was just breaking, casting a soft pink glow through the thin curtains.
"Darren! Time to get up, honey!" His mom's voice floated up from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of pots and the sizzle of bacon.
She was always up early, juggling her shift at the diner and making sure her kids started the day right. Darren mumbled something incoherent, pulling the pillow over his head. School. High school, to be precise Lincoln High, where the days dragged on like an endless orbit around a dull star.
He lay there for a few more minutes, reluctant to face the world. At sixteen, Darren was smack in the middle of that awkward phase: tall and lanky, with messy brown hair that refused to stay combed and glasses that slid down his nose during intense thinking sessions. His mind, though, was anything but sluggish. Even half-asleep, he was calculating the trajectory of a hypothetical comet streaking across his imagination. But school? It felt like a black hole sucking away his time.
"Darren Michael Hayes, if I have to come up there..." His mom's voice sharpened, the threat implicit. She rarely had to follow through; Darren knew better.
With a sigh that could rival a dramatic movie hero, he threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was cold under his feet, sending a shiver up his spine. He padded over to the mirror, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Another day in paradise," he muttered to his reflection, which stared back with a mix of resignation and quiet determination.
He walked to the bathroom to freshen up and while he was in the bathroom,he started singing "sunflower" by swae lee.
He was soon done,with his towel tied around his waist.
Dressing was a quick affair, jeans that were a bit too short now from his latest growth spurt, a faded NASA t-shirt he'd gotten from a thrift store, and his trusty sneakers, scuffed from kicking rocks while stargazing in the backyard. He grabbed his backpack stuffed with notebooks filled with sketches of planets and equations and headed downstairs.
The kitchen smelled like home: coffee brewing, eggs frying, and toast popping. His mom, Linda, turned from the stove, her apron dusted with flour. She was in her early forties, with lines around her eyes from smiling and worrying in equal measure.
"Morning, sleepyhead. Breakfast is almost ready."
"Morning, Mom." Darren slid into his chair at the table, where his little sister Emily, twelve and full of energy, was already munching on cereal. She grinned at him, milk dribbling down her chin.
"You look like you fought a bear in your sleep," she teased.
Darren rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, well, the bear won." He poured himself some orange juice, glancing at the clock. The school bus would be here in twenty minutes.
"Where is dad?". He asked curiously because he couldn't sense his presence.
"He is in the garage" she replied
Linda set a plate in front of him: scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.
"Eat up. You've got that big science test today, right?"
He nodded, digging in. "Yeah, on physics basics. Newton's laws and stuff."
But his mind was already wandering to more exciting territories: rocket propulsion, escape velocities, the math behind launching a shuttle to Mars.
His dad, Mike, shuffled in from the garage, wiping grease from his hands on a rag. He ran the local auto shop, fixing trucks and tractors for the farmers in town.
"Mornin', kiddo. Ready to conquer the world?"
Darren smirked. "One equation at a time, Dad."
Mike ruffled his hair before grabbing his own coffee. The family chatted lightly about Emily's upcoming soccer game, the weather turning cooler, and whether they would have time for a family movie night. It was routine, comforting, but Darren felt a pull toward something bigger. He'd been obsessed with space since that night years ago when Dad set up the old telescope. Now, as a teenager, that obsession had deepened into a burning ambition: study astronomy in college, work at NASA, explore other planets. It sounded crazy in a small town like theirs, where most kids dreamed of taking over family farms or heading to the city for jobs in business.
The bus honked outside, jolting him back.
"Gotta go!" Darren shoveled the last bite, kissed his mom's cheek, and dashed out the door.
The ride to Lincoln High was bumpy, the bus rattling over gravel roads lined with golden fields. Darren sat by the window, staring at the horizon, his mind drifting to calculations. If Earth was hit by an asteroid, how much force would it take to deflect it? He pulled out a notebook and scribbled some numbers, ignoring the chatter around him kids talking about football games, weekend parties, the latest drama in the hallways.
School loomed ahead: a squat brick building with a flagpole out front and a parking lot full of pickup trucks. Darren hopped off the bus, merging into the stream of students. Lockers slammed, laughter echoed, and the bell rang sharply.
First period was English, which passed in a blur of analyzing Shakespeare. Darren liked reading, but his notes were dotted with doodles of satellites. Math came next, where he breezed through algebra problems, his hand flying across the page. The teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, praised him often: "Darren, you're a natural."
But the real highlight of frustration was third period: science class with Mr. Thompson. The classroom was on the second floor, with windows overlooking the football field. Posters of the periodic table and diagrams of circuits adorned the walls. Mr. Thompson was a middle-aged man with a bald spot and a passion for the basics, but he often seemed overwhelmed by questions that strayed too far.
Darren took his seat in the front row, pulling out his textbook. The class was a mix of juniors and seniors, about twenty kids, some doodling, others whispering. Today's lesson: Newton's laws of motion and Faraday's laws of electricity. Standard stuff, but Darren's brain was already connecting dots to bigger pictures.
Mr. Thompson cleared his throat, starting the projector.
"Alright, class, let's dive in. Newton's first law: an object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an external force. Simple, right?"
Hands shot up for basic questions, but Darren was busy solving a side calculation in his notebook. He was figuring out the acceleration needed for a rocket to escape Earth's gravity. G = 9.8 m/s², but for multi-stage rockets, it got complicated with thrust-to-weight ratios.
"Darren? You with us?" Mr. Thompson's voice cut through.
He looked up, blinking. "Yes, sir. Just... applying it."
The teacher nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, let's move to the second law: F = ma. Force equals mass times acceleration."
Darren's hand went up almost immediately.
"Mr. Thompson, how does this apply to rocket science? Like, in calculating the thrust for a Saturn V rocket to reach escape velocity?"
A few kids snickered "Nerd alert," someone muttered but Darren ignored them. Mr. Thompson paused, adjusting his glasses.
"Well, Darren, that's a bit advanced. We're focusing on the fundamentals here. Newton's laws are the building blocks, but rocket propulsion involves more variables, like aerodynamics and fuel efficiency."
"But couldn't we use F = ma to model the initial launch? If we know the mass of the rocket and the thrust from the engines..."
Mr. Thompson smiled tightly. "Yes, in theory. But let's stick to the curriculum. We're not covering aerospace engineering today."
Undeterred, Darren pressed on during the next segment. As the class shifted to Faraday's laws of electromagnetic induction and electrolysis he saw connections everywhere.
"Faraday's law of induction: the induced EMF is equal to the rate of change of magnetic flux."
Darren was scribbling again, this time on ion thrusters used in space probes. Electric propulsion using electricity to accelerate ions for thrust. It tied into Faraday perfectly.
"Question, sir," he said, raising his hand. "How do Faraday's laws factor into electric rocket engines? Like, in calculating the efficiency of plasma acceleration for deep-space travel?"
The class groaned collectively. Mr. Thompson sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Darren, that's fascinating, but it's not part of this class. We're here to learn Newton's laws of motion and Faraday's laws as they apply to basic physics and electricity. Rocket science is for college-level courses, maybe even grad school. Let's keep it simple think of motors and generators, not spaceships."
Darren deflated a bit, but nodded.
"Okay, sir."
Inside, though, his mind raced. Why stick to basics when the universe was out there, waiting? He spent the rest of the class solving the assigned problems effortlessly calculating the force on a falling apple, the current in a simple circuit while his thoughts orbited around NASA internships and planetary exploration.
Lunch followed, a chaotic affair in the cafeteria. Darren sat with his small group of friends: Alex, a fellow science geek who built robots in his garage, and Lisa, who was into biology and dreamed of becoming a doctor. They traded notes on the latest space news, NASA's Artemis program, plans for Moon bases.
"Dude, you grilled Thompson again?" Alex laughed, biting into his sandwich.
Darren shrugged. "Can't help it. This stuff is boring compared to real applications."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Not everyone wants to live on Mars or be Dora the explorer , Darren."
"But imagine it, colonizing other planets, mining asteroids,the earth is already populated and congested. It's the future."
The afternoon dragged: history, where he daydreamed about ancient astronomers like Galileo; gym, where he was decent at basketball but preferred strategy over sweat; and finally, study hall, where he snuck in extra reading on astrophysics from a library book.
By the time the final bell rang, Darren was exhausted but buzzing. On the bus home, he stared out the window again, the setting sun painting the sky in oranges and purples. One day, he would be up there, among the stars.
Dinner that night was spaghetti, family gathered around the table. Emily chattered about her day, Dad shared a funny customer story, Mom asked about school.
"Science was okay," Darren said. "Teacher wouldn't answer my questions about rockets."
Mike chuckled. "That's my boy always pushing boundaries."
Linda smiled warmly. "Just don't forget the basics, honey. They'll get you where you need to go."
As night fell, Darren set up the telescope in the backyard. The stars twinkled overhead, infinite possibilities. He adjusted the lens, spotting Jupiter's moons. "One day," he whispered, "I'll be exploring you for real."
But for now, he was just a teenager in Montana, dreaming big amid the everyday grind. Lit
tle did he know, those dreams would one day collide with a reality far more chaotic than any classroom deflection.
Darren's ambition burned brighter than ever, a spark in the vast darkness.