by Suze Reese
I slumped in my chair.
Instead of a response from Geery, there came the strains of an electric guitar, followed by a tenor voice.
“Okay, now let’s hear the sopranos.” Mr. Chavez turned on his wheeled stool to my side of the room.
It was no use. I dropped the stream, pushed down a now-familiar feeling of panic, and sang with Mr. Chavez. “La-la-la-la-la.”
CHAPTER THREE
At the end of the hour, a box on the wall of the choir room let out an offensive blast—apparently a signal to the humans to scramble from the room. I waited in my seat, hoping to avoid another smelly body pileup. The boy remained, talking to Mr. Chavez. Eventually I decided to try to slip past, making a wide arc around the piano. Just before I reached the door, he looked up, registered surprise at seeing me, and smiled broadly.
I looked away. Then glanced back.
He was still looking.
The same unsettling alarm from this morning started to erupt in my stomach. I clutched the doorway, fighting simultaneous urges to both run away and move closer. That second urge was bizarre. I couldn’t imagine what would make me want to be anywhere near a human male. Ugh. Boy.
I forced myself to step outside into the clean air and sunshine—and out of the boy’s line of sight. I took a couple of calming breaths, then moved with the flow of students along the path leading to the large gymnasium in the center of the high school campus, which I hoped was the location of my next class.
An odd awareness of Choir Boy remained, and I quickened my pace, certain he was watching. When I reached the wide gymnasium doors, I veered through them and dropped onto the floor several feet from the other students, who were sitting cross-legged in the spacious room. A tiny, curly-haired teacher, Mrs. Daines, paced in front of the students.
My heart still beating wildly, I tapped anxiously at my wrist. But the only thing there was Geery’s bracelet. I looked up and realized the useless wrist-tapping made me look neurotic, so I sat on my hands. I knew I needed to stop acting like the incompetent idiot Keddil expected. This boy shouldn’t affect me. He was just doing what human males were supposed to do: stare at girls and think horrible, lustful things about them. It was disarming, but I just had to get used to it.
A female…a girl…suddenly plopped onto the floor next to me. Her oval face was framed by beautiful golden ringlets cascading onto her shoulders. “Hey,” she said.
I tried not to stare at her golden hair, though I’d never seen anything like it. “Um…hey,” I repeated the greeting.
“Your first day?” the girl asked.
“Yes.”
“Where you from?”
I studied my feet, wondering why the girl was being so nice, and tried to push back the fear that she thought I was some kind of a freak. I’d managed to get out of a conversation with Pink Teeth by just ignoring her, and wondered if that would work a second time. But when I glanced her way, she was still watching me expectantly. I swallowed, preparing to tell my first big lie. The one I was expected to repeat over and over again. “New Mexico.” I’d never actually been there—to Albuquerque, to be precise—but before my UNID was removed, I’d downloaded every bit of media ever made in or about the state. Keddil had assured me that I wasn’t likely to run into anyone who had spent much time there themselves, especially if I kept to myself like I was supposed to.
“It must be scary to move that far,” the girl said.
“You have no idea.” I tried to keep my voice casual, but it came out high-pitched and nervous.
“At least you won’t have to worry about fitting in. The pretty girls like you always find a group right away. My name’s Lacey by the way.”
Mrs. Daines began speaking and we both gave her our attention. But one word stuck in my head: pretty. No one had ever called me that before. Not once. In fact, being ordinary was probably the one quality that made me most eligible for this assignment.
The first-ever Over-World Student Emissary Program—which offered the prestigious opportunity of acting as sentinel to Nreim’s most renowned scientific team while attending a high school in sunny California, United States of America, Planet Earth—had six hundred and three applicants.
603. I knew the number well. Keddil had reminded me of it plenty of times. But he said it with contempt, not pride. All those able candidates and this was the best they could do: An incompetent quasar-force who could barely speak the language. Nothing was valued on Nreim as much as knowledge and skill, and the only thing I was noted for was my vast knowledge of Earth trivia, which hardly seemed helpful so far.
he had streamed at the graduation ceremony at the end of my training. For a moment I had felt a boost of pride. Until he continued.
Thank you very much, Keddil.
“Are we all clear on that?” Mrs. Daines raised her voice above the din of students chattering. Silence followed. I glanced at Lacey—who was nodding—and nodded myself. I needed to stay focused. Blend in. Act natural. I took a paper from the stack Lacey handed me and passed it on, then stared at the paper and did my best to pay attention to Mrs. Daines’ recitation. Reading was a struggle, but I did my best to focus on the paper in my hands. Apparently the teacher cared more about participation than performance. A noble goal. (Though I was looking forward to maybe excelling at the performance part of gym class for a change.) Gym clothes had to be taken home and washed every weekend. (Another good idea, especially with all the primitive secretions these humans had to tolerate.) We would be issued lockers, subject to random inspections—
And that’s all I heard. A strange aroma found its way to my nose and encircled my head like a ghostly hand. It was not an emotion, as it only entered through my nostrils. The scent was warm, like a fire. It was too pleasant to be a food, though it seemed oddly similar to the onions in last night’s dinner.
I tried to ignore it, to think of something else, but it was overwhelming. When Mrs. Daines turned her back, I leaned close to Lacey, breaking the rule of never speaking unless spoken to. My first broken rule. That’s how compelling it was. “What’s that odor?”
“Lunch.”
It took less than a second to decide that the brown bag Mom had packed last night with agency-approved nutrition sources would stay in my locker. There were too many rules any way. And they were idiotic. Or probably stupid would be a better word.
***
After class I followed Lacey into the adjoining room—the forbidden cafeteria. The enticing odor’s density increased with each step. Lacey stopped at the end of a line of students waiting to enter the mysterious place. I stopped behind her, feeling anxious, increasingly worried about what I might find. But too curious to leave.
When we approached the front of the line, I went through the motions of imitating Lacey’s actions: pick up a plastic tray, a fork, spoon, knife, napkin, milk. Finally, I selected a plate that had to be the source of the aroma: a cheeseburger and french fries. Just like on visual media…no…television. Except I had no idea the real thing had a smell that was so…so…mesmerizing.
An adult female waited at the end of the line, sitting by a cash register that reminded me of something I’d seen in the Museum of Neoearth History. Lacey punched a series of keys on a square pad next to the register. The female…woman…looked at the register and nodded. Lacey picked up her tray and began to walk away. I pushed my tray forward and stared at the pad, apparently for a little too long.
“Do you know your student number?” The woman asked.
Stud
ent number. That sounded familiar. This morning in the office. That was one of the things the other adult female had given me. I hit the appropriate keys and held my breath. It seemed to work, but my relief didn’t last long.
The woman stared at her monitor then shook her head. “It shows you have a zero balance. Do you have cash?”
I glanced at the back of Lacey’s head, then back to the woman. Of course I’d have a zero balance. No one would have set up an account. I wasn’t supposed to even go into this building.
“Three seventy five.” The woman’s impatience was obvious.
Swallowing nervously, I dug some currency out of my pocket, put there for emergencies, and handed it all to the woman, trying to look nonchalant. I didn’t breathe until three coins and a stack of bills were placed back in my hand. I snatched my tray and followed Lacy, silently praying that I hadn’t looked too foolish. Back home that whole transaction would have been as simple as a tap to my wrist to activate my Universal Neuro-Implant Device, which I was seriously missing.
There were two girls sitting at the table Lacey selected. One looked much too small to be in high school. Lacey introduced her as Camille.
“Hey,” the small girl said.
“Hey,” I repeated.
I already knew the other: Pink Teeth.
“So she does talk,” Pink Teeth said to no one in particular.
“Uh…I’m sorry about ignoring you in choir. I meant to talk to you. I was…nervous.”
Pink Teeth flashed a grin, displaying her jumble of colorful teeth.” No prob. Nothing to be nervous about with us. The name’s Serena. You ready to tell me yours?”
I put my tray on the table next to Lacey’s and sat down. “It’s Mira Johns.”
“Uh hum,” a voice just above us interrupted our conversation. Two skeletal-like females stood nearby, dressed in clothes that were considerably more adorned than what most other females wore. They held trays covered in vegetable matter similar to what Mom had fixed last night for dinner. “This would be our table,” one of the skinny things said.
I took advantage of the distraction to pick up the cheeseburger, hold it to my nose, and inhale deeply. Last night’s dinner had been the most incredible experience ever. But something told me it was nothing compared to this.
“I didn’t realize it was reserved,” Lacey said, looking straight ahead. “I guess the cooks forgot to put out the name cards.”
“Look,” the skinniest of the two said. “We waited all last year for this table. It’s right in the middle of everything.”
The drama unfolding was only mildly interesting compared to the food in front of me. But I tried to pay attention. I’d never met anyone so thin, but still knew the type well. These Skinnies clearly had a far higher opinion of themselves than they deserved. I half-listened while lifting the top bun, which had red and yellow circles. Ketchup. And mustard—I knew this from television commercials. I removed a circle of lettuce and a tomato slice. A square of gooey yellow cheese hugged the meat. It was absolutely mesmerizing.
“Heartbreaking,” Serena said. “What do you think, girls?”
“I think I’m too busy eating my lunch to care,” Lacey said.
“And it’s only too obvious how important eating is to you.” Skinniest smirked and nudged Skinny with her elbow.
“You new?” Skinny asked.
I waited, hoping they were addressing someone else. Eventually I pulled my gaze away from the cheeseburger. “Um…yes.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” Skinniest said. “We’ll find a table that’s more…suitable.”
I had heard enough conversations like this one to realize the significance of the invitation. If I got up and left, I’d mark the girls at the table as unacceptable. But if I stayed, I’d place myself in a lower class at the school and possibly make a couple of enemies. I looked at each of the girls at the table—their expressions suddenly serious, their emotional odors heightened—and then studied the smug Skinnies.
“You coming?” Skinny smacked her gum and impatiently placed her hand on her protruding hip bone.
“No thank you,” I said. “I’ll stay here.”
Skinny raised her eyebrow. Skinniest tossed her hair. They turned and walked with swinging hips to the other side of the room.
“So, Mira.” Lacey’s nostrils were slightly flared. “It appears you’ve just been unofficially introduced to the school’s biggest butt heads, Hailey and Dionne.” The other girls giggled. Lacey continued. “Hailey’s cheer captain. Dionne was esbioveepee last year.” She smiled graciously. “Thanks for not leaving.”
I nodded my head. I had no idea what an esbioveepee was, but I did know all about cheer captains. Save the cheerleader—save the world. I’d hoped that was a stereotype. I figured a place with so much variety would be tolerant of differences. Besides, this world was more confused than I realized if they placed those Skinnies in a higher class of beauty than Lacey.
But I couldn’t say any of that to these humans. Besides, I’d ignored the cheeseburger as long as I could. I picked it up again, and did possibly the most rebellious thing of my entire seventeen years of life.
I took a bite.
And moaned with pleasure. I rolled the juicy meat around in my mouth, reveling in the unfamiliar texture on my tongue. I swallowed. My tongue sought out the remnants of lingering food against my teeth. I hurriedly put another bite in my mouth, tears forming in my eyes. I savored the juice that splashed against the inside of my cheek, the smooth texture of the melted cheese.
Then I looked up. Three sets of eyes watched me. I grinned, realized how disgusting I must look, and clamped my mouth shut.
Until my arrival on this planet yesterday, my nutrition had come in the form of a cube, ingested five times daily. The development of the cube as a nutrition source was hailed as the single most important advancement of all mankind. It would normally take dozens of generations to implement such a drastic nutritional transformation into society. Somehow the brilliant geneticists on Nreim had done it in only four. The cube had wiped out many major illnesses and freed a multitude of valuable economic resources. Not to mention all the good it supposedly did for the goal of purified genetics. At least that’s what they taught us in school.
I shoved three fries in my mouth and decided that the cube was, in reality, a wide-scale tragedy of untold proportions.
“Mira…are you okay?” Lacey asked, her blonde eyebrows lifted in concern.
“Yes…thank you…” I mumbled as best I could with my mouth full. I chewed the last of the bliss and swallowed before attempting to speak again.
The girls hadn’t stopped staring.
“I’ve never been better.”
***
The subtle, lingering taste of cooked onions, hamburger meat, ketchup, and fried potatoes stayed with me for my next two periods. The question of why I grew up thinking that the words food and repugnance were synonymous kept my mind occupied, much like the food’s aroma had before lunch. A full stomach, and the odd sensation of my body digesting the food, made me drowsy. And surprisingly relaxed.
As the end of the school day neared, I also felt an increase in my confidence. I began to get a feel for the layout of the buildings, recognized some of the students in my classes, and was getting fairly adept at not running into boys. I even remembered to think of them as boys much of the time rather than males.
Then I turned a corner on my way to sixth period and spotted Choir Boy leaning against a locker at the end of the walkway. He fixed his gaze on me, a shy smile playing on his lips. I veered to a walkway on my left—even though it was in the wrong direction—rather than approach him. Then I took what I hoped was a shortcut between two buildings. But the new row of buildings looked just like the ones I’d come from. I rushed through the maze of walkways and throng of students and made several passes across the large patio where students gathered between classes until the campus was almost empty. It was hard to believe one high school campus was allowe
d to spread out over so much land.
Twice I passed the correct classroom before figuring it out: 3C Art History. I rushed in just after the obnoxious bell sounded and dropped into the only empty desk on the front row.
“Ms. Johns!”
I looked up, startled. I’d let myself get too distracted to mentally prepare for this, the real purpose of this assignment: the infamous Dr. Alison Stone, who was by now standing in front of my desk. The teacher’s head was held high. But her gaze was focused down, past her perfectly-proportioned nose, to me, trembling in my hard plastic seat.
CHAPTER FOUR
The doctors Tom and Alison Stone were widely regarded as Nreim’s most revered citizens. The pair of research scientists had provided Nreim with more data since the discovery of the young planet Earth twenty years ago than all other sources combined. An entire unit of my Neoearth Studies class had been devoted to the brilliant linkmates. My dad practically worshipped them.
Meeting Dr. Tom in my first period chemistry class had been rather anticlimactic—other than the disturbing discovery that the females seemed to find him attractive. To me, he was no more interesting than any of my teachers back home.
But I wasn’t so sure about this Dr. Alison. For one thing, the room reeked of a mix of angry, ugly emotions. For another, the woman was downright scary. She remained in front of my desk, staring down at me. I glanced to my right and then my left. All eyes in the room were focused in my direction.
“How nice of you to join us,” Dr. Alison continued. “You’re from Albuquerque, isn’t that right?”
I nodded, confused.
“I believe I know your parents.”
I couldn’t think of a response. Keddil had told me Dr. Alison would pretend to not know anything about me. Besides, the woman had never met my parents, I was sure of it. Dad would have bragged endlessly if he’d ever even seen her in person, let alone met her. Dr. Alison strode back to the white board and wrote her name in a fanciful, cursive script. The strident aroma decreased, but only slightly.
