Sam felt much more like himself when he woke Tuesday morning. He stretched, accidentally ramming his hand against the end of his bunk. Ouch. He shook his hand and then rolled, carefully avoiding the hard-edged tools and bits of things he was repairing.

He really ought to clean out his bunk.

Of course, he thought that every morning and then didn’t do anything about it.

His armband vibrated. Was that his normal wake-up alarm?

He checked. It was. So, he’d slept straight through dinner to morning? No wonder he was so hungry.

But if this was his normal alarm, he had only half an hour until he had to leave for school—and he had at least four hours of homework to complete.

He sat up with a jerk, banging his head on the bunk above his.