firmer on the ground. I could feel strength filling my withered foot, surging through the bone, crackling through the muscles, pushing against the inner walls of flesh like a balloon filling out.
Before I knew it, I was dropping my crutch and…
We were skipping. We were sprinting. We were running.
I had never felt the wind against my face. I had never felt blades of grass brushing against the soles of my feet. Not ever. Not like this.
Every now and again, Mi-Yao would look at me, and she would narrow her eyes—an expression I was beginning to understand.
She was smiling. Not with her lips. But with her eyes.
I laughed.
Fall leaves swirled around us. Her hair; a fiery gold beneath the sunlight. Her fingers; cool and smooth to the touch.
I remember thinking, This isn’t really happening. I must be having a dream.
And that is what I would believe for the next three years.
Because, later that morning my parents found me in the middle of the meadow, lying upon my back, drifting in and out of consciousness. I was rushed to the nearest doctor, three miles away from our vacation home.
The doctor was, understandably, flabbergasted. He could not explain how my foot had healed so suddenly.
Well, neither could I.
After my stupor wore off, I could not remember what I had done after running into the meadow. I tried to tell my parents of my encounter with the girl called Mi-Yao. They were certain that no such girl lived in the area; there were no such things as flying cats. In the end, they did not know whether to believe me or not.
And it was okay. I couldn’t convince myself that it wasn’t a dream either.
A few days later, I was satisfied accepting that the event had never happened. I had sleepwalked out of the house and dreamed about meeting the dark girl with blonde hair. As for the miracle healing—that was exactly what it was: a miracle.
It was the only truth I could accept.
I never could explain the white fuzz on my pajama bottoms though.
II.
On the last day of tenth grade, I stepped through the main gates to find Mi-Yao waiting for me in the parking lot.
I froze, and my heart began to race.
I would like to say that I almost didn’t recognize her. I would like to say anything that would indicate I had moved past the reality-shattering encounter from three years ago.
But no, I recognized her immediately.
Her flawless brown skin, the white pebble in the heart of her forehead, that fiery blond hair—still in an impeccable bowl-cut. This time, she was dressed in a grey hooded jacket, white tank top and jeans. Her feet were still barefooted.
Upon spotting me, she did something she had not done the last time: she smiled. With her lips. They parted to reveal those perfect canine-less teeth. It was the most beautiful, most enchanting smile I had ever seen.
I started to run.
I bolted in the opposite direction, across the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. I followed the road from the school all the way to the local mall about a mile away. Passersby stared at me, as I reached an empty bus bench and collapsed onto it, gasping for air.
I was going to wait for the next bus. Then, I was going to take it home. I was going to lock myself in my room and not come out again till morning.
I mulled over my plan as I panted. It was a good plan. Definitely. Maybe. Sort of.
“Please do not run,” a hollow voice said next to me.
I turned. It was Mi-Yao.
“Leave me alone,” I tried to cry, but it came out more like a whimper. I was too out of breath.
Mi-Yao smiled at some of the concerned onlookers. They smiled back, and dispersed.
I was all hers now.
“Let us converse over food,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
I’m still not sure why I allowed her to drag me into a KFC. She got a standard burger, fries and coke. I didn’t get anything; I was too nervous to eat.
For the first ten minutes, neither of us spoke. I watched her separate the burger meat from the rest of the burger, and proceed to line her buns with her fries instead. She ate her ‘potato sandwich’ and she really seemed to enjoy it. She winced when she sipped her Coca Cola though.
“I keep forgetting how preposterously sugared these beverages are,” she said.
I watched the way her lips moved differently from her words. And then, I looked at the circlet around her neck. A tiny light on it lit up every time she opened her mouth to speak.
“Translator,” she said, when she caught me staring. “I upgraded the system, and updated the Anglo-linguistics program. It should make me easier to understand.”
I nodded, like I’d already figured that out.
She crossed her arms, leaned forward and smiled. “So, let us catch up Pee-trrr. How are you?”
There were a number of questions it would’ve made more sense to ask at that moment: Who are you? What are you? Why are you here? Are you the reason I can walk without crutches today? What happened to me three years ago in that grassy field?
“How did you find me?” I asked instead, my voice barely a whisper.
“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” she said, with a cock of her head.
“I do,” I said, swallowing. “I want to know.”
She looked around with bright curious eyes. “I love the way your people splash color on everything. Where I am from, color is very functional and culture specific. White and Red are for royalty. Blue and Green are for formal events. Yellow and pink for celebrations and marriages. Brown is for mourning, and black is never intentionally used as a color; not unless it is for coloring text anyway.”
A moment of silence.
“Where’s your cat?” I asked.
Mi-Yao looked confused for a moment. “Oh, you mean Obi? Obi is not a cat. I thought I said that the last time.”
“Not exactly. You said that you wouldn’t call her a cat.” Even after three years I remembered the exact words we’d exchanged. “What is Obi then?”
“A pud. They are very common in my kingdom. They do not live very long though. Obi died only a few days after we last met.”
“Why?” My voice wobbled. “Did you drown him?”
She stared, and then smiled. “You look nervous Pee-trrr. Look at the upturn of my cheek muscles. Does it not put you at ease?”
I shook my head.
She looked disappointed. “The Terran manual I read said that smiling is the number one facial indicator of good will on this planet. It is supposed to put people at ease, whilst simultaneously expressing the instigator’s desire for friendship. I have spent days mastering the necessary facial muscles.”
“Friendship?” I repeated, blinking. “You want to be…friends?”
It was her turn to look surprised. “Of course. Pee-trrr you are the only one that I know on this world.”
“I don’t do…friends,” I told her. “Nobody understands me, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Don’t they?” she said, blinking. “Have you ever given them the chance?”
I started to say something, and then stopped. I frowned. “Okay. But if you want to be friends, you have to tell me the truth,” I said, feeling sudden bravery from my newly found leverage. “Who are you, and where are you from?”
“I did not lie to you about who I am,” she said. “My name is Mi-Yao.”
“Last name?”
“My people do not have second names. Though, like your people, we are identified by our lineages. I suppose in that respect, the name of my lineage would serve as a sort of second name.” She looked thoughtful. “Alright, my name is Mi-Yao Shebzadar, of the royal Shebzadar lineage. I am princess of the East Khala territory, betrothed of the Sky kingdom prince, and fifth heiress to the Castadonian throne.”
I blinked at all the strange names. “I don’t suppose any of those places are on Earth.”
She smiled. “I get the sense that you
are smart, Peet-rrr. Likely, you already guessed three Earth years ago that I wasn’t from here.”
“You’re an alien,” I breathed, feeling like I was going to pass out.
“I prefer the term ‘visitor’.” She narrowed her eyes, and somehow I was more calmed by this—her real version of a smile—than the less-than-convincing muscle contractions she’d practiced from a book.
My hand reached down for the cell phone in my pocket. “I really want to call the police,” I admitted.
Her face went blank. “Well…” she muttered. “If you want to, I will not stop you. I will simply leave. I would rather you did not though. I am harmless.”
“Harmless,” I breathed.
“Pee-trrr, I am only on holiday.”
“Holiday,” I repeated like an idiot.
She took my hand. Her fingers were cool to the touch, so smooth.
“I would like to spend this your planet’s most celebrated summer season with you,” she said, and she gave me that smile.
That perfect smile. Mechanical perfect smile. But her eyes were narrowed too so I bought her words.
“I don’t know,” I said, hating the tremble in my voice. “I’d like to think about it, if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course, Pee-trrr,” she said, letting go of my hand. “Think about it all you want. I will be patient.”
She went to order another burger.
III.
Mi-Yao must not have understood the word ‘patient’ because the next morning I spotted her from my bedroom window, sitting at the bus stop opposite my house. She was in yesterday’s clothes.
I hadn’t had much sleep last night. A part of me had tried to convince me that I was hallucinating, that I was crazy. I had seen movies with this sort of thing: Beautiful Mind, Fight Club… I
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