That was all interesting. But what I liked best was the humble, loving quality that seemed to radiate from her. I quickly felt comfortable in her presence.
Unfortunately, she and the Fatherly One soon disappeared for a conference, and I realized I had not yet discussed with him the question of bringing the Veeblax to school.
The Fatherly One is very busy, and when he still had not become available by the next morning, I made an executive decision of my own: I would take the Veeblax to school, in order to show Jordan that I had indeed been telling the truth.
This was not entirely wise. It would have been better to wait and get the Fatherly One’s permission. But I did not want to listen to Jordan sneering and jeering about the fact that I had failed to produce the Veeblax.
I recognize this as a failing on my part. I should know better than to respond to teasing and sarcasm. But it is not always easy to remain calm in the face of such obnoxiousness. So I packed a large container of Veeblax chow, which is purple and quite fragrant. Then I put my beloved pet into its carrying case and headed for the limo.
McNally shook his head when he saw me. “Pleskit, are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.
“Is there any reason I should not?”
“Maybe you should ask that question of your Fatherly One.”
“He is not available,” I said, more sharply than I meant to. I looked at McNally. “Are you going to stop me?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to strongly advise you not to. But I can’t stop you. That’s not part of my job description. I’m just here to protect you from harm. If you want to shoot yourself in the foot, that’s your own problem.”
I have noticed that Earthlings tend to use very violent metaphors.
Unfortunately, as it turned out, the only problem with this metaphor was that it wasn’t strong enough.
Shooting myself in the foot would probably have been pleasant compared to the events that followed.
CHAPTER 4 [TIM]
MISTY AND THE VEEBLAX
I was really bummed about the pet show idea, mostly because it rubbed my face in one of the most rotten facts about my life, namely, that my mother won’t let me have a dog, or a cat, or even a hamster, for Pete’s sake!
“I know you too well, Tim,” she says whenever I ask for one. “You’ll be all enthusiastic at first, but sooner or later I’m going to end up taking care of it. And I just don’t have time for that.”
If my father were still around, I bet he’d let me have a dog. But I can’t think about that too much, because if I do, I start to get a little crazy. So mostly I just bug Mom about it.
The fact that we live in an apartment building in the city makes it harder to convince her, since we can’t just open the door to let King (that’s the name I have for the dog I don’t have) out to do his business. Someone would have to walk him. And it doesn’t make any difference how often I tell Mom that I would gladly do it; she doesn’t trust me to live up to my promise.
What really stinks is that if I think about it too much, I think she might be right.
But that doesn’t explain why we can’t have a cat, or a hamster, or something. Cripe, I’d even settle for a guinea pig. But Mom claims she had one herself when she was a kid and it was a disaster. “It was pretty cute,” she told me, “but once it connected the sound of the refrigerator door with getting fed, it shrieked so loud whenever anyone opened the fridge that the entire family ended up hating the poor thing.”
I tried to ask Grampa Zislowski about this, but he just shook his head and muttered, “Guinea pig! Feh. Stupidest thing I ever let that girl talk me into.”
So I guess maybe it’s true.
Anyway, what was also true was that I did not have a pet to write about, much less to bring to the pet show—a fact that I felt even more intensely when Pleskit showed up with the Veeblax the next day.
I glanced at McNally. He didn’t look entirely happy about this.
The kids, however, were ecstatic. They went crazy over the little guy.
I could understand that. Not only is the Veeblax cute but it is also cool, fascinating, and (occasionally) very scary.
“I think it must be a metaphor for something,” said Percy in astonishment after he had watched the Veeblax turn itself into a perfect imitation of my face. “Only, I’m not sure what!”
It was easy to see he was thinking about creating a new poetry assignment based on the Veeblax’s shapeshifting.
I was proud that I already knew the Veeblax, and could even get it to do some of his best tricks. (You should have seen it imitating Larrabe’s woodchuck; you couldn’t tell one from the other!)
Pleskit had some Veeblax chow along with him. When he opened the container, the smell that drifted out was so appealing, I was almost tempted to try some myself. Larrabe’s woodchuck—which was in its cage in the corner—sat up and began sniffing excitedly.
“Can Harold have some of that?” asked Larrabe.
Pleskit paused. “I don’t think so,” he said at last. “There’s no telling what effect it might have on an Earth animal.”
Larrabe sighed and went to give Harold a carrot.
Pleskit pulled a furry nugget of Veeblax chow out of the container. Holding it up, he demonstrated how the Veeblax would imitate a shape in order to get it.
Naturally, after that, everyone wanted to feed the critter. That wasn’t possible, of course; the Veeblax probably would have exploded if it had eaten something from everyone. Even so, people managed to get the critter to look like a pile of textbooks, a lunchbox, and a miniature Ms. Weintraub, which got most of us really hysterical.
One of the things everyone thought was interesting was how the Veeblax could change not only its shape but also its size.
“Only within certain limits,” explained Pleskit, when Michael asked about it. “It has these little air sacs all over its body, sort of like thousands of tiny balloons. By sucking air into the sacs, it can make itself bigger. That’s part of how it changes its shape, too.” He looked down at the Veeblax. “We have to stop feeding it now, or it’s going to get a bellyache.”
“That’s not fair!” whined Misty. “I didn’t get my turn yet.”
“What makes you think it would have done anything for you anyway, Misty?” asked Jordan.
I was a little surprised by this, since Jordan usually reserves most of his nasty cracks for me. Then I remembered that he had been going out with Misty’s big sister, and they had broken up a little while ago.
Misty glared at him.
Jordan just smirked.
“All right, everyone,” said Ms. Weintraub. “Head for your seats. We’ve got a lot to do today. Mr. Canterfield, do you want to start your lesson?”
Percy went to the front of the room and started giving us some tips for making the images in our poems more clear and stronger. After he left, we did some other work. Then it was time for lunch, and recess. It was fairly chilly outside—a typical November day in Syracuse—but Pleskit took the Veeblax out anyway.
“It likes cool air,” he explained.
We were on the playground, messing around with the Veeblax with a whole crowd of kids around us, when Misty Longacres elbowed her way through the group. “I bet I can get it to come to me,” she said smugly, bending over and reaching for the Veeblax.
With a squeal of delight, it leaped up and attached itself to her.
Misty squealed too, but not in delight. “Get it off!” she screamed, staggering back and trying to pull the Veeblax away. “GET IT OFF!”
Shrieking in outrage, the Veeblax only clung to her more tightly.
CHAPTER 5 [PLESKIT]
FATAL ATTRACTION
When the Veeblax first lunged out of my arms and attached itself to Misty, I thought it was just playing. And when Misty started to scream, I thought she was just being Misty. But when she tried to pull the Veeblax away and I saw how desperately it was clinging to her, I realized that something stranger was going on.
I
jumped to my feet and grabbed the little creature. “Come on, Veeb,” I said, tugging at it. “Let go of her!”
The Veeblax only shrieked and clung to Misty even more tightly.
I pulled harder.
The Veeblax began to stretch.
The combination of its squeals and Misty’s screams was starting to make my sphen-gnut-ksher ache.
I pulled still harder.
Misty backed away, which caused the Veeblax to stretch, until I began to fear it would snap.
“Wow!” yelled someone. “It’s like hot mozzarella!”
McNally came racing over. “Pleskit!” he bellowed. “What the heck is going on here?”
“I am not sure!” I answered, shouting to be heard above Misty’s screams. “Something seems to have triggered an attachment issue in the Veeblax.”
This caused Misty to shriek even louder. If she had been from Hevi-Hevi, I’m sure she would have fallen into kleptra. I was in danger of doing so myself.
“Get it off!” she screamed, slapping at the Veeblax, which was also shrieking. “Get it off!”
“Don’t hit it!” I yelled. “That won’t do any good!”
Other kids had gathered in a circle around us. Some were laughing, others screaming.
“Pleskit!” cried Ms. Weintraub, who had come running over close behind McNally. “Do something!”
In desperation I realized there was only one way to get the Veeblax to release its grip on Misty. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Then I gave it a blast of energy from my sphen-gnut-ksher, much as I had done to Jordan my first day of school.
With a shriek the Veeblax released its grip on Misty. Its stretched-out body parts retracted so rapidly, you could hear them snap.
Misty didn’t move at all. She just stood where she was, screaming and crying.
I, of course, fell to the ground in a momentary state of stupefaction as a result of the energy I had just expended. The Veeblax lay beside me, whimpering and panting. I pulled it close, my insides twisting with guilt. Though I felt bad about zapping the Veeblax, that was not the main source of my guilt. I knew that I had not really hurt it, and using my sphen-gnut-ksher had at least ended the horrifying episode.
What I felt guilty about was that I had brought the Veeblax to school at all.
McNally knelt beside me, talking quietly while Ms. Weintraub herded the class back inside.
“I think this is another bad one, buddy,” he said, massaging my hands.
I blinked. “Misty is not hurt, is she?”
“Nah, she’s fine, startled but not hurt. That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s her mouth. Come on, let’s get the Veeblax packed away before anything else happens.”
As has happened so many times, I left school early that day. I was in an agony of anticipation as we drove back to the embassy, wondering if our principal, Mr. Grand, had already called to discuss the Veeblax incident.
Ms. Buttsman was waiting for us.
“Your Fatherly One wants to see you,” she said, raising her left eyebrow. This is a signal I have learned to view with enormous dread.
I took a deep breath. Slowly, nervously, I trudged into the Fatherly One’s office.
The news was even worse than I had anticipated.
CHAPTER 6 [LINNSY]
RETURN OF THE REPORTER
Tim and I walked home together the afternoon of the Veeblax disaster. The wind was cold and the sky was gray. Most of the leaves had fallen. A light drizzle began, and I put up my hood to keep my hair dry.
“So, you think there’ll be any major fallout from what happened on the playground today?” asked Tim.
“I don’t see why there should be,” I replied. “Misty wasn’t really hurt. I overheard Ms. Weintraub telling McNally that the nurse said Misty didn’t even have any marks from the incident. And it’s not like there were any reporters around this time. I’m sure her parents will kick up a fuss. But it shouldn’t make the national news or anything.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Tim. “Every time something happens, I’m terrified it’s going to ruin Meenom’s mission.”
I shuddered. What Tim and I knew that most people didn’t was that if the peaceful trade mission being run by Pleskit’s Fatherly One failed, he would have to leave and let the next Trader who had a claim on the planet take a shot at developing things here. Meenom was trying to create a trade partnership, and treat us like equals. The next Trader might not be so pleasant to deal with. In fact, there was a danger that the next Trader might just take over, colonizing the whole planet the way European countries had once colonized Africa, Asia, and the so-called New World.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said.
Which just goes to show what I know.
* * *
When I got up to my apartment (I live two floors above Tim), I saw a pretty redheaded woman leaning against the wall beside my door. “Hi, Linnsy,” she said cheerfully. “Got a minute to talk?”
It was Kitty James, the reporter who had done such a nasty job on an interview with Pleskit way back when he first got here. Instantly I was on my guard. The only reason I was willing to talk to her at all was that she had made up for that hatchet job by letting Tim and Pleskit into a TV studio in time to save Meenom from an embarrassing disaster.
“What do you want?” I asked—not very politely, I’m afraid.
“The inside scoop.”
“On what?”
Kitty sighed. “Don’t play dumb, sweetie. It doesn’t suit you. Just tell me about what happened at your school today.”
“What makes you think anything happened?” I asked, trying not to sound startled.
Kitty laughed. “Are you kidding? There are two dozen high-tech cameras trained on your building. We can’t see what goes on inside, but we sure can spot stuff on the playground, and that little bit with Pleskit’s pet today was a doozy. The tape of it is playing all over the world already. But I’ve got a feeling there was more to the incident than meets the eye, if you know what I mean. And I figure you’re the one to tell me about it.”
“Why don’t you talk to Misty?”
Kitty waved a dismissive hand. “Everyone’s going to be talking to her. People will be bored with her face by midnight—though that won’t stop those boneheads at the networks from playing the footage over and over again. I want something fresh, kiddo. And I think you can help me get it.”
“What you can get is out of here,” I said, pushing past her to get into my apartment.
She put out an arm to block me. Leaning close, she whispered, “Think about it, Linnsy. It’s always good to have your face on TV.”
The weird thing is, normally I would jump at the chance to be on TV. But I’ve got an ornery streak, and when Kitty said that, the first words out of my mouth were, “No, it’s not! Now get out of here before I call for help.”
“Here,” she said. “Take my card. Think it over. Give me a call if you come to your senses. Trang, let’s go!”
A muscular Asian man carrying a large video camera on his shoulder came around the comer.
“Did you just tape us?” I asked angrily.
Trang smiled. He was very handsome. “Nah. I was just waiting in case Kitty needed me.”
I watched the two of them go, to make sure they really left. But I was thinking about Misty. I’ve known her for a long time, and something about the way she had acted just before the incident with the Veeblax was making me a little suspicious.
I went inside. “Did you have a nice day, dear?” called my mother from the kitchen.
“Yeah. Peachy.”
“Why don’t you come and have some cookies, dear. They’re just out of the oven.”
“Later, Mom. I’ve got something I have to do first.”
I went to my room and tried to call Misty.
Her line was busy. More reporters, probably.
I flopped down onto my bed and started thinking. Misty had looked really smug when she’d broken through the circle
of people around Pleskit to try to take the Veeblax. I knew that look. It means she has a secret.
And later, after she’d come back from her second visit to the nurse in as many days, she had been unusually quiet, which was totally unlike her.
Misty is hiding something, I thought, and I’m going to figure out what it is if it’s the last thing I ever do.
CHAPTER 7 [PLESKIT]
UPROAR
The Fatherly One was sitting in his command pod, which raises him several feet above the floor. A clear blue shell curves around and over the deeply padded chair, leaving a two-foot-wide opening in the front. The armrests are covered with devices that let him enter commands and queries.
The large screen on the wall facing the command pod showed a scene from the wampfields of Hevi-Hevi. The sight of that purple sky made me long for home.
The Fatherly One didn’t say anything. He just rolled a knob on his control pad. The scene from Hevi-Hevi vanished and was replaced by an Earthly newscast.
To my horror, the entire Misty/Veeblax episode was played out again right in front of my eyes.
“This event was captured by a long-distance video camera focused on the school,” said the Fatherly One. “Even worse, the images I just showed you are currently being broadcast around the world.” He tweaked his sphen-gnut-ksher, then said sadly, “Pleskit, Pleskit, Pleskit. Will you ever stop bringing me grief?”
I wanted to curl into a ball and gerdin poozlit. “I cannot believe you took the Veeblax to school without clearing it with me first,” said the Fatherly One. His voice was sharp now, and I could hear the barely controlled anger.
“You were not available,” I said, trying to keep my words clear and unfouled by my fear and sorrow.
Class Pet Catastrophe Page 2