But for that, none of us had an answer.
CHAPTER 12 [PLESKIT]
BRAINSTORM!
I wanted desperately to speak to the Fatherly One, but he was locked away in conferences with Ellico vec Bur for the rest of the weekend, and it was late Sunday night before I finally had a chance to see him alone. He looked weary and distressed—and even more so after I told him what had happened to Tim.
“We have more enemies than I suspected, Pleskit,” he said, his voice heavy. “Which may mean the opportunities here on Earth are greater than I realized. But right now I am lost as to what is going on.”
This did not make me rest any easier.
* * *
“Are you sure this school visit is a good idea?” asked Maktel at breakfast on Monday.
I glanced up from my febril gnurxis. “Don’t you want to meet my class?”
I was surprised to realize that even though I had not always been entirely happy in this class, I had indeed come to think of it as mine, and I wanted Maktel to meet my friends and to like them too.
Of course, given what had happened with Tim, I had no guarantee that that would be the case. But I felt we had to try. I was even hoping that once we were in school, I might find some way to ease the tension between my two best friends.
* * *
A light snow was falling as we drove up the tunnel from the garage beneath the embassy, making the world look white and fresh. I thought Earth was especially pretty whenever this happened.
At school we had to go through the security clearances. “Yep, you’re still you, Pleskit,” said the guard once I’d been scanned. “And your friend here matches the profile the embassy sent for him.”
Even McNally had to go through the check, to make sure he was truly himself.
“This is horrifying,” said Maktel as we walked down the hall. “What a violent planet this must be, that you require so much protection at your own school!”
“Actually, most of this equipment was installed because of problems we had with renegade off-worlders,” I said, feeling oddly defensive of both the school and Earth.
“If you say so,” said Maktel. But he didn’t sound convinced, and I suspected he must have been thinking of other news stories he had seen while preparing for his journey.
* * *
Everyone in class seemed happy to see Maktel come through the door. Well, everyone except Jordan and Tim. It was probably the first time I had seen the two of them agree on anything.
Ms. Weintraub had placed an extra desk near mine on Friday so that Maktel would have a place to sit. Now everyone gathered around to meet him before class actually started. I realized with pleasure how different this was from my first day—how much more relaxed the kids were.
I could see Linnsy glancing back and forth from Maktel to Tim, who was standing at the edge of the group. I figured she must have heard from Tim how their first meeting had gone.
McNally stood a little way from us, but not leaning against the wall as he often does. I could tell he was hyperalert. It makes him nervous when too many people are near me. And, of course, now he was watching out for Maktel, too.
As we were talking, Maktel—forgetting the limited nature of human communication—made a particularly pungent fart to express a point.
“Whoa!” cried Jordan, waving his hand in front of his face. “How come there’s never a Purple People Eater around when you need one?”
Naturally this caused Brad Kent, whom Tim refers to as “Jordan’s Official Suck-Up,” to laugh uproariously.
Encouraged by Brad’s laughter, Jordan said, “Have you ever considered changing the name of your planet from Hevi-Hevi to Gassy-Gassy?”
“Jordan!” said Ms. Weintraub sharply. “That will be about enough!”
“You demonstrate a typical Earthling prejudice against anything or anyone who is different,” I said to Jordan in exasperation.
He rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that, Plesk-o. But face it—the main reason you’re not really part of the class is that you keep yourself out of it. You live in that flying saucer and don’t invite anyone in. So what do you expect?”
“Hey,” said Tim. “He invites me in!”
Jordan sighed theatrically. “I was talking about human beings, dootbrain. You don’t count.”
Jordan’s words angered me. Yet at the same time I was horrified to realize they held a grain of truth. Not about Tim; we had run a check on his DNA, and he really is human. But about my isolation.
Actually, I didn’t realize this right away. But when Maktel and I were discussing the day on the way home, he asked, “Is it true what Jordan said?”
“About what?” I replied cautiously.
“That you have not invited anyone in your class besides Tim to the embassy?”
“Linnsy has been there,” I said defensively.
McNally didn’t say anything, but I could tell he thought this was pretty weak, since her visits had usually been the result of an emergency. What was worse was that I had to agree: it was a pretty feeble thing to say.
“Is there a reason you have not invited others?” persisted Maktel.
“I don’t think the Fatherly One would like it.”
“Have you asked him?”
I had to admit that I had not—which forced me to ask myself why this was so. Was it because my first few weeks had been so difficult? Or was I being overly shy? What kind of a diplomat would I make if that were the case?
I made the low and nasty fart of self-disgust. “What a geezbo I have been!”
I also made a decision: I would ask the Fatherly One if we could throw a party to welcome Maktel to Earth—a party to which we would invite my entire sixth-grade class!
It wasn’t until that night, when I was preparing for sleep, that I began to wonder if Maktel had raised the question of bringing other kids to the embassy because he thought it was a good idea—or as a way to bother Tim.
I shook my head in disgust. I was getting as suspicious as he was!
CHAPTER 13 [MAKTEL]
DEBATE
Pleskit’s request for a party led to an embassy-wide debate. The Fatherly One—whom I still had not been able to see alone in order to pass on my secret message—called a staff meeting. We all assembled in the kitchen, which made Shhh-foop very happy. She slid around, warbling in ecstasy as she provided snacks for everyone.
The Queen of the Kitchen grew even happier when Pleskit explained his idea. Tentacles atwirl, she began planning a menu. “We can have finnikle-pokta,” she sang, “and some gerts
She slid back to the counter to begin making notes.
“Shhh-foop, calm yourself,” said Meenom firmly. “We have not yet decided whether this will happen.”
Pleskit leaned to me and whispered, “Perhaps this idea was not as clever as I first thought. I am unsure how my classmates will respond to Shhh-foop’s cooking.”
Meenom turned to McNally. “What do you think of this idea?”
“Well, I hope you plan to bring in some extra security to keep track of all those kids,” he replied. “I’m a bodyguard, not a babysitter or chaperone.”
Ms. Buttsman leaped on the comment the way a gnuck leaps onto a skakka. “So, you’re opposed to the party, Mr. McNally?”
McNally smiled. “Not at all, Ms. B., not at all. In fact, from a bodyguardly point of view, I think it’s a good idea.”
“You do?” asked Pleskit, sounding more surprised than was tactically wise.
“Sure,” said McNally. “Having a party here will make the kids more comfortable with you. The better you fit in at school, the less the chance of some playground scuffle.”
(“Besides,” he told us later, “I’m a party guy at heart!”)
“Well, I still believe this to be a catastrophically bad idea,” said Ms. Buttsman. “Not only that, it would be a serious
misuse of embassy resources—resources that could be better spent cultivating the diplomatic mission.”
“Ah,” said Wakkam Akkim, waving her feathery eyebrows, “that objection does not take into account the importance of a balanced life. Work and play must both have their place, or a being does not thrive.”
“Well, being as I’m dead, I’ve already put in enough work for one lifetime,” said the Grandfatherly One, who had been placed in his portable transport device and brought to the kitchen for the meeting. “So my vote is, let’s have the party! If you ask me, we should have had several by now. Kids, grown-ups, whatever. Besides, I’d like to see some of those kids from Pleskit’s school again. Not that snot Jordan, of course. But most of the rest of them would be welcome here.”
“I fear I cannot discriminate, O Venerated One,” said Pleskit. “The class rule is that if I invite most of the students, I must invite all of them—including Jordan.”
The Grandfatherly One snorted through his speakers. “That’s like saying if you have nine good borznikki on your plate and one rotten one, you can’t eat the good ones unless you eat the rotten one, too.”
“A borznik that has gone bad will never unrot,” said Wakkam Akkim gently. “For an intelligent being, there is always hope for growth.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” muttered the Grandfatherly One. “I think I need a nap.” He pulled in his extensions and dropped the shutters on his vat.
I have known Pleskit’s Grandfatherly One long enough to know that this action did not mean he was truly tired, just tired of the conversation. He once told me that the thing he liked best about being dead was that he didn’t have to be as polite as when he was alive.
“Perhaps if we do have the party, there will be lots of leftovers,” said Barvgis, patting his roundness happily. “I love leftovers!”
“I am afraid I must register a negative opinion,” said Beezle Whompis, who had been flickering in and out of sight at the far end of the table.
I was surprised to hear this, since I knew that the Fatherly One’s secretary had already helped Pleskit with some projects that were, shall we say, questionable.
“This is a professional judgment, younglings,” he said, turning to us apologetically, “not a personal one.”
“But I don’t understand why,” said Pleskit mournfully.
Beezle Whompis crackled out of sight for a moment, then reappeared. “The embassy is filled with sensitive equipment, much of which the Earthlings are not yet ready for. The potential for an embarrassing incident is fairly high. The potential for an actual disaster is present as well. While Tim and his parental unit have been very understanding about the mishaps that have already occurred, it is not likely that all the parents of Pleskit’s classmates will be so easygoing. Should one of the Earth children stumble into an unfortunate situation, the repercussions could be… extensive.”
“My point exactly!” crowed Ms. Buttsman.
Pleskit and I were even more surprised than Ms. Buttsman when Ellico vec Bur, who weren’t staff members but had been invited as a matter of courtesy, entered the debate on our behalf. “We think such a party is probably one of the best things Meenom could do for his mission,” said the Bur portion smoothly. “Remember, the Earthlings are approaching a season of holidays. Our studies tell us that they highly value such parties. Assuming all goes well, this could gather a good deal of favorable publicity for the embassy and its mission.”
Then they reached over and pulled a snergal from behind Ms. Buttsman’s ear. She looked startled, and did that very amusing trick some Earthlings have of turning bright pink.
Despite the conflict over the unauthorized landing of Ellico vec Bur’s ship, Meenom seemed to think very highly of the Trader(s), and their opinion turned out to be the deciding one.
“We’ll do it,” said the ambassador, “and hope that our visiting friends are right. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have an appointment in Brazil.”
I stood up. “Ambassador, if I could see you for a mo—”
I was cut off by Ellico vec Bur, who smoothly stepped in beside the ambassador and said, “We need to speak to you about a few details before you leave, Meenom. Now that our ship has arrived, we were thinking…”
That was the last I heard, because they were out of the room.
My suspicions about the Trader(s) doubled. It was clear—to me at least—that they were preventing me from being alone with the ambassador. Now I had another question: Why had they taken our side in the party debate? What were they hoping to get out of the situation?
A new idea twisted my kirgiltum. Was it possible that Ellico vec Bur supported the party for reasons exactly opposite to those they had stated? That is, were they secretly hoping it would be such a catastrophe that it would destroy Meenom’s mission?
Or—and this thought was even more frightening—was it possible they were planning to create a catastrophe to do exactly that?
I would have been less apt to think this way if I had been able to deliver the Motherly One’s message. But Ellico vec Bur’s continual thwarting of my attempts to do so had sharpened my suspicions.
It was clear to me that Pleskit and his Fatherly One were entirely too trusting. Therefore, it was equally clear that it was up to me to keep an eye on Ellico vec Bur.
CHAPTER 14 [TIM]
ANOTHER MISTAKE
On Tuesday morning Pleskit raised his hand and said, “Ms. Weintraub, could I make an announcement?”
“Why, yes, I guess so,” said Ms. Weintraub, looking a little startled.
I wondered what was going on—and felt hurt that I didn’t know about it. Before Maktel got here, Pleskit would have consulted with me before making any kind of announcement to the whole class. I didn’t even know what he was going to talk about, and I felt left out already.
Pleskit went to the front of the room and waited for everyone to get quiet. Then he said, “Maktel and I have convinced the Fatherly One we should have a party at the embassy to celebrate the upcoming holidays. It will be on Friday night. You are all invited.”
“All of us?” asked Jordan suspiciously.
“Every kid in this class is welcome,” said Pleskit firmly.
The class started to applaud.
Jordan looked smug. Everyone else looked excited. Well, everyone except Misty. It didn’t take me long to figure out that she was probably afraid that even though she was invited, she wouldn’t really be welcome after the Veeblax incident.
I stole a glance at Linnsy to see what she thought of the party idea.
She didn’t look back.
Then I looked at Ms. Weintraub and was startled to see that she looked deeply distressed.
* * *
The party was all anyone could talk about at recess, and I heard some wild guesses about what it might be like inside the embassy. The reason I heard these guesses was that I was drifting around the playground instead of hanging out with Pleskit and Maktel, which was what I really wanted to be doing.
I wondered if the cameras that the news media had permanently pointed at the schoolyard were filming me walking around, looking like a little lost dork. Finally I went over and leaned against a wall near where Pleskit and Maktel were talking to Chris Mellblom and Michael Wu.
McNally was nearby, leaning against the wall too, doing his best to look inconspicuous.
I tried to mimic his posture. He nodded to me.
I nodded back.
I would love to be as cool as McNally someday.
About the time I was getting up my courage to join Pleskit and the others, Linnsy walked up to the group.
I felt trapped. Facing all three of my social problems at once was more than I could cope with. But running away would make me look stupid. So I just pressed myself against the wall and tried to pretend I wasn’t there.
It was a cold day, on account of it being December, but nice enough to be outside. Well, nice enough if you were used to it.
“I feel as if I’ve been sentenced to
work in the northern wampfields,” said Pleskit, huddling into his jacket.
“I take it that’s like being sent to Siberia,” said Linnsy. Then, her voice a little sharper, she added, “That’s probably how Ms. Weintraub feels right now.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Maktel.
Linnsy sighed. “Boys must be the same everywhere in the universe. Didn’t you guys see the way Ms. Weintraub looked after Pleskit’s announcement?”
“I did,” I said, stepping toward them.
“How did she look?” asked Maktel.
“Upset.”
“Upset and hurt,” said Linnsy.
“Because we’re having a party?” asked Pleskit, sounding confused.
“Because you’re having a party and didn’t invite her.”
“I said everyone was welcome,” he protested.
Linnsy shook her head. “What you said, precisely, was that every kid in the class was welcome.”
“Why would Ms. Weintraub want to come to a kids’ party anyway?” I asked, moving still closer. “She has to deal with us all day long. It would be like going to work again.”
“Earth to Tim,” said Linnsy, rapping me on the head with her knuckles. “Hello, this is your wake-up call! The party is going to be in the embassy, which is, like, only the place every human being on the planet would most like to get into. And now our entire class is going… except for Ms. Weintraub. You do the math, brainiac.”
“Good grief,” I muttered.
“Grief is correct,” said Pleskit. His sphen-gnut-ksher was drooping, and I could tell he was moving into a major guilt episode. “Ms. Weintraub has always been good and kind to me. How could I have neglected to invite her?”
Too Many Aliens Page 5