Disclaimer: I don't own The Martian!

The Anti-Spud League

"Uncle Mark?"

He glanced down at the six-year-old girl sitting on the picnic blanket beside him, her blue eyes squinted at him as if she was trying to figure him out. Callie Beck had a pretty impressive stare. She'd definitely inherited it from her mom, seeing how Beth had that penetrating, I-will-see-beyond-this look down pat.

Mark and Callie had come to Central Park today to hang out and spend the day together before she started first grade later that week and before he had to go back home to Florida. There had been a lot of meetings to attend, and he hadn't gotten to see as much of her and her parents as he would've liked. Next time he was just going to claim vacation time, steal Callie from school like a true American hero, and go see Wicked and Lion King with her until their eyeballs popped out of their heads.

"Yeah, squirt?"

"How come you never get French fries?"

Scattered around them were the remains of a smorgasbord of food truck goodies, including her own plate of chili cheese fries. He shrugged and reached around her to grab one of their take-out trays.

"'Cause there're so many other things to eat besides fries. Like this super healthy deep-fried taco."

Like usual, that wasn't a satisfactory answer for the overly curious kid. "Momma says it's because you hate potatoes."

"That's true, too."

"Why?"

He didn't know if he wanted to get into this right now. Chris and Beth had told Callie about the Mars mission, mainly because she needed to know why they all got stalked by psycho paparazzi now and then, but it wasn't like she knew any details. And he didn't really want to be the Man from Mars to her. He just wanted to be Uncle Mark, the cool guy that showed up every few months and spoiled her rotten. Still, he knew he couldn't keep it from her forever.

"Well…" He took a huge bite out of his taco and grinned close-lipped at her as he chewed, buying himself some time.

Callie rolled her eyes like she was sixteen instead of six and nibbled at her churro, almost letting her intricate dark brown braid touch the cream cheese sauce. It was hard to believe that the kid was six already. When she was born, she had been so small, no one was sure if she would make it. But here she was, about to be a first grader and more famous than most kids in the world.

Being the first and currently only child ever conceived in space had that effect.

"What about mashed potatoes?"

"Nope," he said around the remains of the taco.

"Baked?"

"Nein."

She licked the sugar off her fingers. "Tater tots?"

"Nyet."

"You really don't like any potatoes at all?"

He shook his head. "They're…let's just say, I had my fill of them." Reaching over, he poked at her tray of chili cheese fries, scooting them a little closer to her. "See, once upon a time, we were the best of friends, me and potatoes. Then me and taters hung out too much, got too close and spent too much time together. Watched too many reruns of Three's Company together. Discoed one too many times."

Callie laughed and wrinkled her nose as she flopped back against the blanket. "You can't be friends with potatoes, Uncle Mark."

"Hey, what's our motto?"

"Don't say 'can't'," she answered automatically, "But you can't—"

"These were special potatoes. Anyways, after time together, we went our separate ways, never to meet again."

"Sooo…" Callie rolled over onto her stomach. "You ate too many of them?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Later she could find out that potatoes were the only thing keeping him alive for all that time. He owed a lot to the spuds, but he never wanted to eat another one as long as he lived.

Potatoes would just taste like loneliness and cold and inventive desperation.

Like Mars.

"I did that with chocolate pudding," Callie was saying, her high-tops kicking in the air. "They had pudding cups in the snack area when we went to that space conference this summer, and I ate so many I got sick." She grinned at him. "I hate pudding now."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at her and reached over to tickle her side. "You're so weeeeird."

"You're the weirdest!"

"That's hurtful," he said, putting his hand over his heart before smirking at her. He noticed some people heading toward them and sighed. Hey, at least it took longer than usual. They had been found again. The paparazzi were relentless. While he normally could deal with being followed around and photographed, he didn't like it when they tried to get pictures of Callie. He also knew that Chris and Beth preferred to keep her out of the spotlight when they could. "Come on, let's clean up and head over to the zoo or something."

She looked over at people, too, and made a little frustrated noise. "Okay...can we visit the monkeys first?"

"Sure, but I thought you liked the red panda things the best."

"I do, but monkeys throw poo, right? My friend Carter said so." Her eyes crinkled with mischief. "They could hit the paparazzi people!"

Mark grinned right back at her. "You have a good brain, Callie Beck. Don't let the zombies eat it."

"Never. They can eat potatoes."

Sometimes it felt like Callie was the only one who got him.

They were the only aliens on the planet, after all.