We're Not from Here Page 14

  I heard a low whine of whispers behind me, but no smells. They didn’t seem to be getting the joke.

  Yurinuri handed me the laser marker. I stood in front of the screen, staring at the meaningless squiggles and slashes of Zhuri math.

  Now what?

  I drew a stick-figure head with squiggly hair and slashes for its eyes and mouth.

  “What is it doing?” someone called out behind me.

  “That is not even a number!” whined someone else.

  I drew a cartoon of an Ororo, then a Krik with giant, ridiculous-looking teeth.

  There was no smell of anything in the air. It wasn’t working. My face turned hot with embarrassment.

  “I do not think you are understanding the lesson, Lan human,” said Yurinuri.

  I handed back the laser marker. “I am so sorry! Everyone must agree I am not good at this.”

  “Everyone also agrees it is important to try,” Yurinuri said. “Thank you for doing so. Please take your seat now.”

  As I turned back to the class, I caught a whiff of the doughnut smell.

  Somebody—maybe just one of them—was laughing at me.

  I started back toward my stool, hanging my head in exaggerated disappointment as I aped the bouncy Zhuri walk again.

  There were more low whines of whispered chatter.

  Another hint of the doughnut smell reached my nose.

  It’s working!

  I was just a couple of strides away from my stool. A Zhuri kid was sitting to the left and in front of me. His long, thin legs were stretched out, just barely poking into my path.

  They loved it when I tripped yesterday. It was the oldest, dumbest, easiest laugh in the universe.

  I went for it.

  On my next stride, I brought my foot down just in front of the kid’s leg. He started to lift it up to get out of my way, but I quickly sped up my bouncy step, raising my foot and dragging it across his leg just as he lifted it.

  Gravity and physics took over. I lost my balance, windmilled my arms, and came crashing down across my stool, flipping it sideways as I hit the floor shoulder first. Fortunately, the floor was the same spongy playground stuff as in our house, or I would’ve really hurt myself.

  Whines of surprise erupted all around me.

  “Are you injured, Lan human?” Yurinuri cried out.

  I popped up right away, doing my best to seem flustered. “I am so sorry! I am not good at walking either!”

  My stool was lying on its side. I set it on its feet and plopped down on it.

  Then I breathed in the rich, sugary-sweet smell of Zhuri laughter.

  “Clear the air, children,” Yurinuri warned them. “We do not want to offend the Lan human. That was an accident.”

  It wasn’t an accident. And I wasn’t offended.

  I was thrilled.

  I made them laugh!

  That had to help us somehow. I just needed to figure out the somehow.

  “I HAVE A question,” I said as I sat down next to Marf and Ezger in the crowded cafeteria.

  “So do I,” said Marf. “Where is your sister?”

  “Lying in bed.”

  “Is she unwell?”

  “It depends on what you mean by unwell,” I said. “She has her good days and her bad days.”

  “What would make her days better?”

  “I don’t know. Living back on Earth with a guitar and a music career?”

  “I do not understand anything you are saying,” said Ezger.

  As I got out my leftover Ororo food, Marf stood up. “You will have to excuse me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have an appointment.”

  “What kind of appointment?” I asked.

  She trundled away without an answer. Within a few seconds she’d crossed the room and disappeared out the door. It was amazing how fast she could move when she wanted to.

  “Is Marf mad at me for something?” I asked Ezger.

  “Why would she be mad at you?”

  “I don’t know. She just seemed kind of…brisk. Like she was angry.”

  “I do not think she is angry. It’s the opposite. Since she met you, she has been much less sad than usual.”

  Hearing that made me feel delighted and worried at the same time. “Marf’s usually sad?”

  “She is almost always sad. She is the saddest person I know.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She will tell you it is because all Ororo are sad. But I think it’s because she is lonely. Marf is the only Ororo in this whole school. And she is thousands of times smarter than everyone in it. If you ask me, that is a very lonely thing.”

  “I guess you’re right.” When I thought about that, it did seem awfully lonely.

  “Did you have a question? When you sat down?”

  “Oh! Yes. Is it illegal to make people laugh?”

  “You mean the way you made people laugh in our classroom? When you tripped and fell? Did you do that on purpose?”

  I looked over my shoulder at my soldier. He was sitting with his weapon in his lap, sipping his lunch. “Of course not!” I said, making sure I was loud enough for him to hear. “It was an accident. I’m just clumsy.”

  “It is not illegal to be clumsy,” Ezger said. “It is only embarrassing. And most Zhuri will tell you it is very rude to make people laugh. But that is not the same thing as being illegal.”

  “Do you like to laugh?” I asked him.

  “I don’t think so. I have never done it.”

  “I think it’s pretty great.”

  “It doesn’t seem great. When Marf laughs, she looks like she is having a medical problem.”

  After that, we ate in silence for a while, except for the noise of Ezger’s lunch smacking him in the face as he chomped down on it.

  As I munched on my Ororo leftovers, I watched the Zhuri kids waiting in line at the food faucets on the other side of the room. Most of them stood still, but the more eager ones occasionally flitted their wings, rising up a few inches off the ground. There were stacks of empty glasses on the shelf behind each faucet. Once the Zhuri kids had taken a glass and filled it, some of them loped away on foot to sit on stools, but just as many took flight, choosing to drink their lunch while hovering in airborne clusters that clouded the room all the way to the skylit ceiling.

  One of the nearby clusters of flying Zhuri seemed to be staring down at me. I was trying to figure out whether I was just imagining it when a kid detached from the group and zoomed over to land in front of me. When he got close, I realized it was Iruu.

  “Hello, Lan!”

  “Hi, Iruu! Do you know my friend Ezger?”

  “I do not,” said Iruu.

  “I do not either,” said Ezger.

  They didn’t seem interested in getting to know to each other. I was trying to figure out how to make the situation less awkward when Iruu changed the subject.

  “I was told you walked like a Zhuri in class today, and it was very amusing.”

  “Not on purpose, though!” I lied. “It just kind of happened.”

  “Can you make it happen again? Can you show me?”

  The floating cluster of Zhuri he’d left behind were all still looking down at me. So were a few dozen other Zhuri in the clusters next to them.

  I looked across the room. There was a clear path to the nearest faucet.

  My heart started to beat faster.

  Should I?

  I set down my container of food and stood up.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Ezger.

  Iruu flitted his wings in excitement, the doughnut smell already rising from him.

  I stood up and began an exaggerated, bouncing walk across the room toward the nearest faucet. As I passed the
different clusters of Zhuri, more and more heads turned to stare at me. I caught a few whiffs of fear, and even one of anger—but mostly I just smelled doughnut.

  I loped over to the back of a short line, wriggling my torso and hopping into the air like an eager Zhuri.

  The kid in front of me turned to look back. “What are you doing, human?” he whined.

  “Oh, hello!” I said to him. “I am having lunch!”

  He got his drink and flitted off. I stepped up to the faucet. It was made for someone much taller and longer-armed than me, so I had to stretch out on my tiptoes to pluck a glass from the stack at the back of the sink. But I managed to get one, and the tap was close enough to fill it without too much trouble.

  The dirty-gym-sock smell of the food made me want to retch, but I forced myself to smile as I turned around.

  Every Zhuri in my line of sight was staring at me—a thousand compound eyes, in every direction, all glittering with light.

  I took a long, bouncy step away from the faucet. The sugary doughnut smell was getting stronger, and the usual whiny-chatter racket of the cafeteria had fallen off to a murmur. They were all waiting to see what I’d do next.

  I slowly raised the glass to my face and stuck my nose in it.

  I’d been planning to root around with my nose like I’d seen the Zhuri do with their tubelike mouths. But I hadn’t counted on just how bad the smell of the food was. I’d barely gotten my nose in there when I gagged and had to draw my whole face back, sloshing some of the food onto the floor as I did.

  A little ripple of talk went through the crowd, and the smell of laughter came at me from all directions.

  It was working even better than I’d imagined. I just hoped I could pull off my next move without barfing.

  Don’t think. Just do it.

  I raised the glass to my lips, forced my lips open, poured in a mouthful—and sprayed it back out in a massive spit take.

  All the Zhuri within range flitted backward to avoid the spatter as the crowd erupted in whines.

  They loved it. The room was starting to smell like a doughnut factory.

  I could’ve stopped there, and it would’ve been a triumph. But when the Zhuri scattered out of the way of my spit take, they’d left a wide stretch of floor open in front of me. It was empty except for a few scattered stools. My eyes landed on a stool twenty feet straight ahead. A thick cluster of Zhuri hovered in the air about five feet above it.

  It was the perfect setup for a giant pratfall.

  I loped forward in bouncy steps so wide that I could feel the strain in my hamstrings. My foul-smelling drink sloshed out of the cup and ran down my arm. Two steps from the empty stool, I shortened my stride, jumped onto the seat, and leaped into the air, flapping my free arm like a Zhuri’s wings.

  I didn’t get nearly as much air as I’d hoped—I’d forgotten how much stronger gravity was on Choom—and when I fell to the floor, I landed on my hip so hard that I bounced. A shower of stinky liquid rained down on top me along with my glass, which hit me in the arm.

  It would’ve been funnier if it had hit me in the head.

  Even so, it was funny enough. The crowd was practically shrieking with delight:

  “DID YOU SEE IT?”

  “OH MY!”

  “I DID NOT EXPECT THAT!”

  I’d never smelled anything as delicious as that doughnut laughter. I got to my feet—I wanted to spring up, but my hip hurt too much from the landing, so it was more of a limp—and turned around, grinning from ear to ear. The crowd of Zhuri parted in front of me as I started back toward Ezger and Iruu.

  Then my guard stepped into my field of vision, pointing his steel-pronged weapon at my chest.

  He could hurt somebody with that if he’s not careful, I thought.

  I was still thinking it when he jabbed me just below the neck, and a couple hundred volts of electricity shot through my body.

  It didn’t feel good.

  Oh boy, did it not feel good.

  Fortunately, I passed out before the pain really sank in.

  THE NEXT THING I knew, I was lying on my back with a splitting headache, staring up at a beige, six-sided ceiling.

  Why is everything on this planet beige and six-sided? was my first thought.

  Why do I feel like I just got hit by a truck? was my second.

  A Zhuri came into view, looming over my feet. I flinched at the sight of him, but he wasn’t armed. Then I realized it was the principal.

  “Can you understand me, Lan human?”

  “Yes.” My earpiece was still in my ear, and my screen was in my pocket. “I am so sorry—” I sat halfway up and immediately keeled over again from dizziness.

  “It is best if you lie on the floor until the effects of the neural disrupter wear off.”

  No argument from me. I looked around as best I could without getting up. I was lying in the middle of what must’ve been his office. When I tilted my head back, I saw the guard who’d zapped me standing by the door. His weapon was still in his hands, and the sight of him gave me a jolt of fear.

  “I wish to ask you, Lan human,” the principal said, still standing at my feet, “what your intention was in taking the Zhuri food and jumping off the stool.”

  I didn’t want to lie to him. But with the guard there, the truth seemed like a bad option.

  “I wished to fit in,” I said. “To do as the Zhuri do. I realize now that is impossible. I am sorry! I will never try it again.”

  The principal nodded. Then he raised his head to stare at the guard. “It is as I suspected. The human did not intend to cause smell. Your action was unnecessary and hurtful.”

  “The human says this now,” the guard replied. “But I suspect it is not being truthful. I believe it was trying to cause the Zhuri students to make smell.”

  “Everyone agrees the chief educator has primary authority within this academy.”

  The guard rubbed his wings together. “Yes. Everyone agrees this is true.”

  “As chief educator, I have decided it is no longer necessary for the Executive Division to guard the human while it is inside the academy.”

  “My orders are to escort the human wherever it goes.”

  “And you may escort it to the front door, but no farther. As chief educator, I believe it is disruptive to our students for you to remain inside. Go now and wait outside the entrance. You may rejoin the human when it exits at the end of the day.”

  Wow. The principal was taking my side.

  The guard rubbed his wings so hard that I thought they might fall off. “Everyone agrees I must report such an order to my superiors in the Executive Division,” he said.

  “Of course,” said the principal. “You should make your report now. After all, you have nothing else to do until the end of the academic day.”

  The guard left, but he wasn’t happy about it.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  “You are welcome,” the principal told me. “I offer my deepest apologies for this accident.”

  I sat up again, keeping both hands flat on the floor this time to steady myself. The room felt like it was spinning.

  “There is no need to stand if you do not feel healthy. You may lie here as long as necessary.”

  “Thank you again, sir.”

  I watched him walk over to the far end of the room, where there was a stool and a large screen on a horizontal, desklike platform. He sat down on the stool and began to tap at the screen.

  I thought for a moment. “May I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know it is wrong to encourage others to make smell,” I said. “But why?”

  “That is a complicated question,” he told me, “with many different answers. Everyone agrees that smells cause problems.” He paused for a long moment,
slowly rubbing his wings together. “But some people think that not all smells are equally troublesome. In fact…some people even think…”

  I waited for him to finish the sentence, but he never did. He just stopped staring at me and went back to tapping at his screen.

  The room was still spinning, so I closed my eyes and put my head back down on the floor. It was throbbing with pain, but I tried to ignore it so I could think.

  Finally I sat up again. “Can I ask another question?”

  “Yes.”

  “My teacher—I mean, my learning specialist—wants me to make a presentation to our class about the human, so that my classmates can better understand us.”

  “I think that is an excellent idea. It would be very educational.”

  “I hope so! But…what if my presentation causes smell? Accidentally, of course. Would that be a problem?”

  The principal stared at me for a while before he answered. “Everyone agrees accidents cannot be helped. As long as your presentation’s purpose is educational, you should not be concerned.”

  “What if my presentation had some clips in it from videos that are entertaining to humans? Like, for example, television programs that cause laughter in humans?”

  “What would be your purpose in showing these clips? Would it be to entertain? Or to educate?”

  “To educate, sir!” I said, nodding my head for emphasis. “To show the Zhuri what kinds of things humans like to do.”

  “As long as your purpose is educational,” he said, “I would support this. And I am sure your learning specialist would too.”

  I smiled in spite of the pain in my head. I found the loophole!

  For the rest of the school day, I lay on the principal’s floor, my headache and dizziness slowly fading as I dreamed up ideas for the Classroom Presentation That Might Help Save the Human Race.

  Or, if the principal’s armed-guard ban didn’t stick, the Classroom Presentation That Might Get Me Electrocuted for Good This Time.

  * * *

  —

  BY THE END of the school day, I was mostly recovered, although I was still too dizzy to walk completely straight. When I came out of the principal’s office, the lobby was crowded with Zhuri kids. For the first time, I didn’t smell fear coming from any of them.