Sixth-Grade Alien

by Bruce Coville

  “But why?” I asked again.

  He did another one of those shrug things. “Because you’re different. That’s all it takes for some folks. You scare them.”

  This was such a horrifying thing to say that it convinced me the training modules were right about Earthlings telling the absolute truth. Why would he say such a thing unless he absolutely had to?

  The Fatherly One’s secretary, Mikta-makta-mookta, came scurrying into the kitchen. Though it is hard to read her expressions with all that fur on her face, she seemed a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Pleskit! I had intended to be here to introduce you to Mr. McNally.”

  “Please,” he said. “Call me McNally. Just McNally.”

  “As you wish,” said Mikta-makta-mookta. But her attention was all on me. Her voice dripping with disapproval, she said, “I thought we had discussed what you were going to wear today.”

  I groaned. “Do I have to?”

  She wiggled her nose, a sure sign she was annoyed. “Of course you don’t have to, Pleskit. I’m sure it won’t bother your Fatherly One in the least if you ignore his wishes in this matter. Why would you want to bother to present yourself well to your new classmates anyway? No, you can go as you are.”

  My sphen-gnut-ksher was starting to spark. Without intending to, I reverted to speaking in Hevi-Hevian. “Gezup-gezop!” I said, popping the knuckle on my left thumb three times.

  At once, I realized that I had broken the Fatherly One’s order about using only Earth language so we will get comfortable with it. “I’m sorry,” I said meekly.

  Then I went to change my clothes.

  * * *

  The question “What should I wear to school?” gets more complicated when you move to a new planet.

  When I had discussed the matter with Mikta-makta-mookta the night before, she had said that for the first day I should go in a kling-ghat, which is what we wear for formal occasions on Hevi-Hevi.

  (That’s the best way I can figure out to write “kling-ghat,” by the way; the full name for it involves two hand gestures, a large burp, and a tiny fart. But those don’t translate into Earth languages very well.)

  I would have preferred the simple clothes I had been wearing, which were not unlike what Earthlings call a shirt and pants. But I did not want to disappoint the Fatherly One. So I went back to my room and put on my kling-ghat.

  “Much better,” said Mikta-makta-mookta when I returned to the kitchen.

  I sat down at the table and ate some febril gnurxis, my favorite breakfast food. Based on what I have sampled of Earth foods, I’d say it’s a little like brown sugar and ice cream, with some crunchy bits mixed in. It’s very nutritious.

  Shhh-foop, whom you Earthlings would call the cook but we speak of as “the queen of the kitchen,” came sliding in. (Shhh-foop’s full name is “Shhh-foop [onion smell], but there is no good way to do that in Earth language.)

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. McNally?” she sang.

  “Thank you, Shhh-foop,” said McNally. I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice normal and not to stare. I did not take this as a good sign. If Earthlings thought Shhh-foop, who is only a 3, looks strange, how will they react when they meet someone at the far end of the Physical Chart—someone who is a 20, or a 40?

  Shhh-foop slid across the floor to a clear glass counter and slapped it with one of her tentacles. A small door popped open and a steaming pot of black liquid rose as if from nowhere. Next to it were several cups. Shhh-foop filled one, then carried it back to McNally.

  He took a sip. A strange expression crossed his face and I could tell he was trying hard not to spit the liquid out.

  “Oh, dear,” sang Shhh-foop, using her voice of tragedy. “I fear I have not yet learned the proper way to brew this Earth beverage. I will work on it while you are gone today.”

  “Thanks,” squeaked McNally. He put down the cup. “Come on, Pleskit. Let’s go.”

  I swallowed hard, made the small fart of nervousness, and followed him out the door.

  CHAPTER 5 [TIM]

  TROUBLE

  Mom was driving me and Linnsy to school the next morning when I saw the first signs of trouble.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Look at that!”

  “I couldn’t miss it if I tried,” muttered my mother.

  The sidewalks on both sides of the street ahead were thronged with people. The only things keeping the mob from filling the street itself were police barricades.

  The police had also set up a roadblock at the next corner, where they were stopping every car that approached. Most they motioned to turn away; a few they let go forward.

  On the north side of the street stood a cluster of grumpy-looking people carrying handmade signs painted with sayings such as ALIENS GO HOME and KEEP OUR SCHOOLS ALIEN FREE! and EARTH IS FOR EARTHLINGS!

  Across the street another group was holding similar signs—except these all said things like WELCOME ALIENS! and THE ROAD TO THE STARS HAS OPENED! and THE FUTURE IS HERE AT LAST! These people were cheering and waving, and if not for the fact that I was actually going to meet an alien that morning, I would have asked Mom to let me get out and join them.

  “Look!” said Linnsy. “There’s Senator Hargis!”

  I groaned. Senator Helm Hargis was not only the leader of the anti-alien forces, he was also one of the loudest and most obnoxious people in the world. He was holding a bullhorn (an appropriate term in this case) and ranting about how the aliens were going to mean the end of life as we know it, and besides, if God had wanted us to have aliens on Earth, he would have put them here to begin with.

  “How can he get away with saying stuff like that?” I asked.

  Mom shrugged. “It’s one of the trade-offs for having free speech: Any idiot can say whatever comes into his head.”

  Photographers’ flashes were going off everywhere. Guys with video cameras were trying to fight their way over the barricades.

  I wondered, a little nervously, what the aliens would think of all this fuss.

  When we got to the police barricade Mom took out the ID card the government guys had made for her. She had showed it to me the night before. Using alien technology, it had her genetic code imprinted on it.

  The cop slipped the card into a black box. The box began to beep softly. The cop handed back the card and waved us on.

  Things were a little quieter once we got on school property—mostly because the cops had put a barricade all around the building.

  “That wouldn’t really hold if people decided to rush it,” I said nervously.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” said Mom. “They’re not angry or anything. Well, a few are. But most of them are just curious.”

  “I am, too,” I said. “We’ve seen pictures of some of the aliens, but since there are thousands and thousands of planets in the league, we don’t know what our alien will look like!”

  “I’m sure you’ll be nice to him, no matter how he looks,” said Mom as she pulled over to the curb.

  “Of course he will,” said Linnsy. “Tim’s a real sweetie pie.” She said it so nicely Mom didn’t even notice she was making fun of me.

  We climbed out of the car. As Mom was pulling away, I heard a roar from the crowd. Turning, we saw four motorcycles pulling into the school driveway.

  Behind the motorcycles came an enormous black limousine.

  The crowd surged forward.

  “Get back!” cried the cops, struggling to hold people in place. “Get back!”

  It did no good; the waiting crowd broke through the lines. In less than an instant the limo disappeared beneath the mob.

  “Wait!” I cried, starting forward. “Don’t—”

  A pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind. “That’s no place for you, Tim. Get inside. Now!”

  It was Mr. Grand, the principal.

  I struggled to get free. “We’ve got to help!” I cried.

  “The police will handle it,” said Mr.
Grand, carrying me toward the door. “What do you think you could do about it, anyway?”

  I stopped struggling. “Nothing, I guess.”

  Mr. Grand put me down once we were inside the school. “Don’t worry, Tim. Those idiots weren’t hostile, just curious. And that limo could survive a small explosion. Now get on down to your room. I’ll bring Pleskit in once things have settled down.”

  “Geez,” said Linnsy as we started down the hall. “This is even weirder than I expected.”

  * * *

  Most of the kids were already in the room, some of them looking pale and nervous.

  “What a mob!” said Rafaella Martinez as Linnsy sat down behind her. “Did you have any trouble getting through it?”

  “Eyes front!” shouted Ms. Weintraub, flicking the lights on and off. “Let’s get started.” She had to flick the lights three times before we all got quiet.

  “Well, this is clearly going to be an exciting morning,” she said, once we were settled. “I just got a note from Mr. Grand. It will be a little while before our new student gets here.”

  “If he gets here at all,” I muttered nervously.

  “In the meantime, let me update you on where things stand with us. I’m sorry to tell you that three students have been switched to other classes.”

  Everyone began looking around. “Who’s gone?” asked Melissa. (Truthfully, I was surprised to see that she was still with us.)

  “Marcus, Danielle, and Bobby,” replied Ms. Weintraub. “I’m going to miss them very much, but there was nothing we could do about it. Now, when Pleskit gets here, I want you to treat him like any other student. Let’s make him feel welcome but not overwhelmed. It’s all right to be curious, but remember, you’ll have a whole year to get to know him.”

  “Yeah, Tim!” hooted Jordan. “Don’t hit him with all your Space Boy questions in the first ten minutes.”

  “Keep a lid on it, Jordan,” said Ms. Weintraub sharply. “Now, one more thing—”

  She was interrupted by Mr. Grand’s voice coming over the loudspeaker. “Ms. Weintraub?”

  “Yes, Mr. Grand?”

  “Pleskit is in the building. I’m going to give him a brief tour before I bring him to your room.”

  “We’ll be waiting!” said Ms. Weintraub.

  If I haven’t exploded by that time, I thought.

  To keep us busy, Ms. Weintraub told us to each take out a piece of paper and start listing questions we had for Pleskit. “We won’t be asking them all today. But over the next few weeks we’ll give him a chance to share some information with us about where he’s from, while we do the same for him.”

  I took out some paper. But even though my mind was throbbing with questions, I couldn’t concentrate enough to get even one of them written down. I looked at the clock.

  8:45.

  I turned my attention back to the paper, trying to force myself to write something. But all I could think about was how cool it would be if the alien and I could be best friends.

  I waited until it felt like half an hour had gone by before I looked up again.

  8:46.

  I wonder if your head can actually explode from excitement! I thought.

  The minutes crawled by, moving slower than a one-legged tortoise climbing uphill through a molasses spill.

  Finally someone knocked at the door. I leaped to my feet. I was finally going to see the alien!

  CHAPTER 6 [PLESKIT]

  TRICKY MCNALLY

  We rode to school in a long black vehicle, driven by a man named Ralph. Ralph did not talk. He just drove.

  “Some limo, huh, kid?” asked my bodyguard as he held open the door for me.

  “It smells bad, Just McNally,” I replied, speaking truthfully.

  He looked at me strangely. “What did you call me?”

  “Just McNally,” I replied. “Isn’t that how you said you like to be named?”

  He sighed. “When I said ‘just McNally’ I meant just ‘McNally.’ Not ‘Mr.’ McNally. Just ‘McNally.’ Get it?”

  “No.”

  He sighed. “Call me McNally. Don’t add anything in front of it. Okay?”

  “You got it, McNally,” I said, relieved I had finally figured out what he meant.

  “Good. Now let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  The limousine (I learned later that that is the full name for this kind of vehicle) actually rolled along the ground! This was a strange, and not very pleasant, sensation. And it actually burned a liquid called gasoline (which was what I had smelled). I understand that this is standard for Earthling vehicles, but for me it was quite shocking.

  We had gone only a little way when four motorcycles pulled in front of us.

  “Escorts,” said McNally.

  “They’re so loud!” I cried, covering my ears. (They were smelly, too, but I didn’t bother to mention that.)

  McNally said nothing. But I saw him roll his eyes.

  * * *

  My discomfort turned to fear when we got near the school and I saw hundreds of people, many of them shouting and holding up signs.

  “What is that?” I cried.

  “Your welcoming committee,” said McNally. “Come on, we’re going to make a transfer.”

  Our vehicle stopped. McNally opened the door and slipped out, ducking down so that his head did not show above the door. He gestured to me to join him. We went to the back of the limousine. Waiting behind it was a much smaller car, light blue, covered with dents.

  “Get in the backseat,” said McNally.

  I did as he asked.

  The motorcycles and the limousine started forward. “Look,” said McNally. He was pointing to a small screen mounted in the front of the car. It showed the limousine. As it drew near the school a group of Earthlings burst forward. They swarmed over the big black car like gnucks that have spotted a wounded skakka!

  McNally laughed. “Morons,” he said. “Come on, kid. We’re going in the back way.”

  I decided I liked McNally. He was tricky. And as the Fatherly One always says, “Tricky is good.”

  McNally I liked. The rest of the planet I wasn’t so sure about. The sight of those people swarming over the limousine had terrified me.

  What if I had still been inside it?

  * * *

  We were met at the rear of the school by a tall man with long gray hair tied together at the back of his head. (I learned later that this is called a ponytail. Then I found out that a pony is a four-legged animal that people ride. Language here is exceedingly strange.)

  “Greetings, Pleskit,” said the man, holding out his hand. “I’m Mr. Grand, the principal. Glad to have you with us. Hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting here.”

  “Piece of cake,” said McNally.

  “That would be nice,” I said.

  “What?” asked McNally.

  “A piece of cake. That sounds good.”

  McNally laughed. “You don’t understand,” he said.

  Well, that was certainly true. And what I really didn’t understand was how much I didn’t understand. That only became clear as the day went on.

  “You look a little nervous,” said Mr. Grand. “Let’s go to my office for a little while before I take you to your room.”

  “Have I been bad already?” I asked nervously.

  Mr. Grand looked startled. “What makes you think that?”

  “My training modules taught me that bad children are sent to the office of the principal.”

  Mr. Grand laughed. “Well, that does happen. But good kids get to see me as well. We can skip the office for now. I’ll give you a tour of the building.”

  * * *

  As we walked through the halls, children clustered at the doors of their rooms, crying, “There he is! There he is!”

  “They’re anxious to meet you,” said Mr. Grand. “If you’re willing, we’ll have an assembly next week so you can say hello to everyone. Ah, here’s the special bathroom they installed for you la
st night.”

  “Bathroom?” I asked. “Do I have to bathe before I can enter the classroom?”

  “Your Personal Needs Chamber,” said McNally.

  “Oh!” I said. I felt better. Life is always easier when you know where you’re going to finussher.

  “And this is your classroom,” said Mr. Grand, when we had gone just a little bit farther.

  I felt a wave of nervousness. I was about to meet the people I was going to spend the next year with. After what had happened outside, I wondered what they were going to be like.

  Mr. Grand knocked on the door.

  We heard a shout from inside, followed by a loud bang.

  I let out a shriek of terror.

  CHAPTER 7 [TIM]

  SOCIAL DISASTER

  Talk about wanting to die of embarrassment! When I jumped to my feet, I sent my desk crashing to the floor. The class burst into laughter. I blushed so hard my cheeks felt like they were on fire. So much for my plan to be really cool the first time I met the alien.

  The door swung open. I saw Mr. Grand, looking really cranky. To his right stood a tall black dude wearing a dark suit and sunglasses. And between them? Between them was my dream come true: an honest-to-goodness alien!

  He looked totally terrified.

  “Who made that noise?” snapped Mr. Grand.

  “It was Tim!” yelled Jordan.

  Mr. Grand gave me one of his looks. “Will you settle down, Tompkins? You nearly scared our new student to death!”

  A couple of the kids started to laugh, then stopped when they saw that he wasn’t joking.

  I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide—only I couldn’t, of course, since I had just knocked it over.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  I was so upset that it took a few seconds before I could really focus on the alien. He could easily have passed for human, except for three things:

  He was totally purple.

  He was totally bald.

  He had a single stalk growing out of the top of his head. The stalk was about five inches long and thick as a pencil. From its top sprouted a walnut-size knob.