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  Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Barnett, Maija.

  Title: Reaching for Venus / Maija Barnett.

  Description: Buffalo, NY : West 44, 2025. | Series: West

  44 YA verse

  Identifiers: ISBN 9781978597334 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781978597327 (library bound) | ISBN 9781978597341 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Sisters--Juvenile fiction. | Space colonies—

  Juvenile fiction. | Venus (Planet)--Juvenile fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B376 Re 2025 | DDC [F]--dc23

  First Edition

  Published in 2025 by

  Enslow Publishing LLC

  2544 Clinton Street

  Buffalo, New York 14224

  Copyright © 2025 Enslow Publishing LLC

  Editor: Caitie McAneney

  Designer: Tanya Dellaccio Keeney

  Photo Credits: Cover Vezdehod/Shutterstock.com;

  interior background nednapa/Shutterstock.com.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

  reproduced in any form without permission in

  writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer.

  Printed in the United States of America

  CPSIA compliance information: Batch #CS25W44: For further information contact Enslow Publishing LLC at 1-800-398-2504.

  Find us on

  For my sister, Ariel

  WALKING HOME

  I taste the sky—

  toxic and gray.

  Smothering my lungs.

  Making them burn.

  My sister Rachel

  is at my side.

  “You’re okay, Lee-Lee,”

  she whispers.

  “Look, we’re

  almost there.”

  I glance back at the

  Forgotten City—

  empty as a

  broken shell.

  Rachel holds our basket

  of finds.

  Some canning jars,

  in their

  original packaging.

  An unopened

  bottle of

  wine.

  Things we can sell at

  The Stalls.

  So we can pay

  for food

  and heat—

  and medicine for

  my lungs.

  “Breathe,” says Rachel,

  her long, black hair

  slipping

  from its

  heavy bun.

  I tuck a strand

  behind her ear

  and think of how

  it’s just like

  mine.

  “I’m okay,”

  I wheeze.

  But that’s

  a lie.

  My lungs are

  screaming.

  My throat is

  raw.

  The air I’m getting

  isn’t

  enough.

  I search my pockets

  for my

  inhaler.

  But then I remember

  the cartridge

  ran

  out.

  “We’ll get one tomorrow,”

  Rachel says.

  “Angus will

  hook us up.”

  I nod and focus on

  the view.

  Our cottage,

  tucked into

  the hillside.

  Dad built it from

  “found material.”

  (Which means

  other people’s junk.)

  I picture Dad

  the year he died.

  He had asthma

  just like me.

  Almost there, I think.

  Focus, Leah.

  I reach for my

  sister’s

  hand.

  Trying to forget

  how it hurts

  to breathe.

  US

  Some people laugh

  at our names.

  Straight from a book

  no one owns

  anymore.

  It’s been so long,

  only the Olds

  remember.

  The pairing of Rachel

  and her sister, Leah.

  The pairing of

  my sister

  and me.

  We’re a year apart,

  but we look

  like twins.

  At least that’s what

  everyone says.

  Except we’re different in an

  important way.

  I’m one year older and

  100 years

  weaker.

  My asthma steals

  everything.

  Our money.

  My breath.

  My life someday, too.

  After Dad died,

  Mom was close

  behind.

  Now it’s just

  Rachel and me.

  Rachel’s the boss,

  even though she’s the

  little sister.

  Rachel is the one

  who keeps us

  alive.

  RACHEL’S CHANCE

  There’s something

  we don’t

  talk about.

  A ticket out.

  Just for one.

  I’ll give you a hint—

  It takes four months

  to get there.

  Then you live inside

  a yellow

  sky.

  About 31 miles

  above

  the planet’s

  scorched surface.

  Beautiful Venus,

  with her floating city.

  Her gift of life

  trapped

  in the stars.

  16

  Here, 16 is an

  important number.

  It’s the age they decide if

  you can

  go.

  “They” is Terra,

  the government

  that gives us

  nothing.

  Except for

  one chance,

  when you turn

  16.

  Only 50 boys

  and 50 girls,

  from all across our

  dying Earth.

  It’s a contest,

  but only the healthy

  can enter.

  That means

  Rachel.

  It doesn’t mean

  me.

  But you need

  skills, too.

  And Rachel

  has them.

  She can grow flowers

  in a pinch

  of soil.

  Coax scarlet

  tomatoes

  from dried-up

  vines.

  On December 31st,

  they make their

  decision.

  We’re on the

  edge now.

  It’s almost

  here.

  Every breath

  takes us

  a little bit

  closer.

  Every breath

  fills

  my heart

  with fear.

  HISTORY

  This wasn’t always

  how it was.

  Years ago, we were a

  global society.

  The Forgotten City was

  Worcester, Massachusetts.

  One tiny piece

  of the

  USA.

  There were

  other states,

  and countries, too.

  Instead of just Terra

  for everyone.

  I’ve seen photos

  in books

  buried in the library.

  Crumbling in

  the center

  of town.

  (That building scares me,

  but Rachel likes to go.

  I keep lookout,

  just in case.)

  Everything changed,

  when the seas

  rose.

  And the air grew

  hard to breathe.

  But our forefathers

  had a plan.

  A mission to Mars,

  and Venus, too.

  They wanted to build

  two new

  homes.

  Just in case

  one

  didn’t

  work out.

  The Mars mission

  failed.

  That colony

  split.

  Like the apples we pluck

  from the dusty roadside.

  Their mealy insides

  full of

  worms.

  So Mars was

  lost.

  The city

  burned

  by an angry faction

  who destroyed

  everything.

  All that was left

  was the

  Floating City.

  That goddess who whispers

  in our deepest dreams.

  Her yellow clouds—

  a paradise.

  ORPHANS

  Mom and Dad

  taught us

  all they could.

  Once they realized

  what was

  coming.

  Once they knew

& nbsp; how little time

  they had

  left.

  They built

  a greenhouse

  with raised

  garden beds.

  To stop the rains

  from flooding

  our crops.

  An irrigation system

  from a bale of

  twisted-up tubing.

  (Rachel’s friend Angus

  scored that for us.

  And sold it

  to Rachel

  for less than it was

  worth.)

  “Better than diamonds!”

  Dad had joked.

  Because diamonds

  don’t mean

  anything here.

  We set it up,

  while Mom and Dad

  stayed

  in bed,

  Instructing us

  on what to do.

  Rachel calls

  our system

  Mom and Dad’s

  gift.

  Even though

  they’re not

  with us,

  their handiwork is.

  Every time we slice

  into a

  bleeding

  tomato.

  Or trade

  fresh greens

  at The Stalls.

  Mom’s voice

  whispers

  in my ear.

  A ghost of the promise

  she made me

  make.

  After Dad

  was gone.

  THE PROMISE

  Rain pounded our

  metal roof.

  Making it

  hard

  to hear.

  Rachel was in the

  greenhouse

  tending plants.

  I was inside

  tending

  someone else.

  Deathwatch, I thought,

  though we didn’t

  call it that.

  We just said Mom

  was resting.

  Waiting for when

  she’d meet up with

  Dad.

  I was adjusting her blanket

  when she grabbed my arm.

  “Leah,” she wheezed.

  Her voice a kettle’s

  hiss.

  “If Rachel’s chosen,

  make her go.

  She’s the only chance

  this family has.”

  “Promise,” said Mom,

  fingers hot on my wrist.

  Her dark eyes

  full of

  fear.

  “I promise,” I whispered,

  looking away.

  Trying my best

  to swallow

  the lie.

  ANGUS LEE

  Angus Lee

  loves

  my sister.

  At first,

  I was blind.

  I just thought

  they were friends.

  That he was our

  connection

  at The Stalls.

  With his makeshift

  hearing aids

  and sick parents

  at home.

  (Angus couldn’t

  apply to the

  Floating City.

  His congenital hearing loss

  meant

  he was out.)

  Angus has a lot

  to worry about.

  But he always

  has time

  for Rachel and me.

  Well, mostly Rachel,

  if I’m being

  honest.

  But he sells me

  inhaler cartridges

  for cheaper

  then he

  should.

  And his dark eyes

  sparkle

  whenever Rachel’s

  around.

  “What’s with you

  and Angus?”

  I once asked,

  when we were

  in the greenhouse,

  weeding.

  “Nothing,” scoffed Rachel,

  trying not

  to smile.

  “He likes you,” she joked.

  “You’re the same age,

  you know.”

  “Funny,” I said,

  knowing the

  truth.

  Then I pictured

  Angus’s kind

  eyes.

  And hoped

  he’d be enough

  to make

  Rachel stay.

  WHAT RACHEL SAYS

  I run down

  the path

  to meet her.

  Her hair is

  flecked

  in snow.

  “How was it?”

  I puff.

  My breath almost

  gone.

  Rachel grabs my wrists

  and

  grins.

  Her bright eyes

  full of

  hope.

  She tells me

  she found

  the testing site.

  It was a day’s walk,

  due west.

  Just like they’d said

  on the TV wall

  that stares down

  from The Stalls

  like a watchful eye.

  But she made it,

  and on her birthday.

  December 22nd—

  the only day

  she’s

  eligible.

  “The blood work

  went fine,”

  Rachel says.

  “They only took

  three vials.”

  I picture

  liquid darkness

  streaming

  from her.

  A masked face,

  cold as the

  sea.

  “Lee-Lee,” she says,

  “I think I passed.

  The physical was easy.

  And the MRI, too.

  The written work

  was a little

  tough,

  but I did

  okay.”

  Her eyes

  glitter

  with a secret.

  I wish I knew

  what it was.

  WAITING

  It’s December 31st.

  And Rachel’s

  quiet.

  She doesn’t want

  to go to The Stalls.

  My body pulses with

  anticipation.

  I ache to watch the

  TV screens.

  Wait for Terra’s

  announcement.

  But Rachel says

  we’ve got stuff

  to do.

  An irrigation line

  froze

  last night.

  (The greenhouse work is

  never-ending.)

  “Besides,” says Rachel,

  faking a smile,

  “we’ll find out

  either way.”

  I close my eyes

  and do what she asks.

  While trying to ignore

  my shaking

  hands.

  FINDING OUT

  I’m thinning

  lettuce

  when I hear him.

  It’s Angus,

  calling

  my sister’s name.

  “Rachel!” he cries,

  his voice rough.

  I can tell he

  ran

  all the way from

  The Stalls.

  I fumble for the

  greenhouse door.

  And then

  I’m outside,

  watching them.

  Angus’s arms are

  wrapped

  around my sister.

  Rachel has

  started to cry.

  “Rachel?” I say.

  Heat rushes

  through me.

  She turns her head

  and says,

  “We’re safe.”

  GO!

  We’re running

  toward

  the Forgotten City.

  Panic pulses

  through

  my veins.

  Moments ago, I was

  watching

  Rachel.

  Who was

  laughing and sobbing

  in Angus’s arms.

  Then Angus’s

  hand

  was on my

  back.

  While Rachel

  rushed

  into the house.

  And came out with a

  pack

  slung over

  her shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” she hissed.

  “We need

  to hurry!

  Terra’s guards

  will expect you

  at intake

  soon.

  And we still have to

  work

  everything out.”

  “Work what out?”

  I asked.

  But Angus

  motioned for

  silence.

  As if he thought

  someone

  might be

  listening

  in.

  So now we’re

  sprinting

  down the path.

  My lungs

  burn,

  but Rachel

  pushes me

  forward.

  Into the city

  I

  fear.

  HIDEAWAY

  We’re somewhere off

  Highland Street.

  Inside a tavern

  from the

  past.

  Rachel hauls me

  through a

  doorless

  doorway.

  And into a room of

  broken glass.

 

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