Launching model rockets, it turns out, can be rather risky business.

They take safety precautions, but over the past two years students in Ingraham High School's rocketry club have dodged an errant rocket, plucked another from a treetop and watched more than one fall back to earth in a flaming jumble.

They've spent hours outside of school to design, build and test their rockets, and after each launch, they chase the rocket down wherever it lands -- which sometimes means getting muddy, wet or worse.

None of that has dampened their enthusiasm, and their persistence is paying off: In just over two weeks, the 10 members of Seattle Public Schools' only rocketry club will be flying to Virginia to compete in what amounts to a national championship.

They're the only team from Washington to get an invitation, and to say they're excited would be woefully inadequate.

"We're geeking out, man!" says Ingraham junior Julian Picard, the team's project manager. "The fact that we're good enough to get there and fly with 100 other teams -- it's amazing."

To earn an invitation to the Team America Rocketry Challenge, the students had to build a rocket from scratch, launch it as close to 750 feet in the air as possible and have it parachute back to earth within a 45-second window. And it only counts as a success if the two raw eggs packed inside the rocket's tube don't break. (That occasionally happens, says junior Katy Loubet-Senear, who still is grossed out at the memory. "Egg was everywhere.")

A certified aviation official had to witness the launch to verify it met the requirements.

Each launch is scored, with points calculated by determining how far off it was from the target. During their last launch at Sixty Acres Park in Redmond, their rocket -- dubbed "Little Sister" -- hit an altitude of 753 feet and landed in exactly 43.33 seconds.

It's a nearly perfect score. At nationals, though, timing will be everything. "A tenth of a second is going to make or break us," junior Nelly Nicklason says.

Every club member helps create the rockets, from designing the specifications to sewing the parachute to pushing the button to launch. Little Sister is about 3 feet long and weighs about a pound. Constructed primarily of cardboard and basswood, it has a tiny altimeter tucked inside and memory foam inserts to cushion the eggs.

This year, the team began using a tiny engine that can be reloaded with propellant -- lowering the cost per launch from about $25 to less than $10, science teacher and club adviser Peter Schurke says.

Donations and grants, particularly from the Ingraham PTSA, help defray costs.

Most of the club members are considering careers in science. Picard hopes for a career in astrophysics or aerospace engineering, for example, while junior Kim Smith is considering chemistry as a college major.

Unlike some of the other members, Smith didn't jump to join the club last year.

"Rocketry seemed kind of intimidating -- I didn't really know what it was about," she says. Then she attended a few launches and was hooked.

"You get to blow stuff up!" she says, then casts a guilty look at Schurke. "I mean, launch it."

Nicklason plans to pursue a career in biology, but says students don't have to want a career in science to enjoy being part of the club. She's picked up a lot of knowledge about rocketry, physics, technology -- but it's the lessons about teamwork, playing to your strengths and (sometimes) dealing with difficult people that have been most valuable, she says.

They're clearly a tight-knit group, ribbing each other mercilessly and reminiscing about past adventures. Last year, they had team T-shirts made -- blue, with "Why, yes, I AM a rocket scientist" printed across the front.

For all the joking, though, they're serious about the May 17 competition. They've spent more time this year refining their rocket design and analyzing results from test launches.

Last year, they tried to earn a launch score to qualify for the national competitions, but fell just short, Picard says.

"We were pretty determined that was not going to happen again."