A small girl in blue sat all alone on the playground at recess. She watched all the other children silently as they played. She calculated their motions, imagining the parabola paths that their flying footballs followed; she guesstimated the speed that the swings were going, wondering what the height of their high point was. She listened to them laughing and could pick out the words they used to describe her- the petty, juvenile words. Gross, cooties, and weird were just a few. They tried to be quiet but they did not know the secret she carried with her gave her more knowledge than they could hope to aquire before graduating high school, including lip reading and a sharp hearing.
She regarded the two main groups. One, a group of boys, looked innocent enough as they passed a little ball around, but she could hear their conversation, and it was not exactly innocent. They spat out her names and listed the things that they had heard about her family. I heard they eat babies for breakfast, one said. No, they eat dogs for breakfast. Babies are for dinner, another boy responded in all seriousness. The oldest boy, the leader, made a final statement- we will stay safe and stay away from her. The other boys agreed without a moment of hesitation.
The second posse was of all girls. The girls sat on the jungle gym platform, obviously talking about something. Only she could hear them, mostly because only she cared. She is so ugly, one said; look at that mass of hair. Why would she braid it every single day? And she is just so stupid. The rest agreed. You know, said the youngest girl, her family is not human? They came from outer space and are trying to eat our brains. At this, a few girls jumped. Estelle, stop, the oldest said sternly. You are eight now, you need to act like it and not take cheap scares. The youngest replied that it was the truth, the truth, but the leader was no longer listening. The new topic was silly bands- and who had the most.
She got up off of the bench. She looked carefully- the two teachers that were supposed to be watching them were deep in conversation about who had a better divorce lawyer. The girl walked behind the bench and through a kickball field. The boys playing stopped, watched, and gave her a wide berth. She kept walking right into the woods, and not one of the boys tattled, simply because they were afraid.
In the woods, she felt free. School was an absolute burden, the fact that she had to pretend to learn things. She wished for the millionth time that she had requested the body of an older person- college age or older. When the order form came in, they had not explained to duties of each age group. Her age group had to pretend to be stupid and immature. Teens had to be whiny and slightly more mature. Twenties were calm and cool and had to have a job; thirties were frazzled and had to pretend to be looking for a spouse. White- hairs had to move slowly, but could act every bit like themselves, wise and intelligent.
In the woods, she sat down and pulls out what looks like a cell phone, dialed a few numbers and disappeared.
Everyone yells at her. What if they see, her mother asked again and again. Her father spouts stuff about how she has to keep up the façade, and that they need to stay concealed.
In the quick, clipped tones of their normal language, she tells them to shut up and storms off the her room. In her room, she strips off the suit she wears. From a small fridge she grabs a bottle of nutrition, the good and tasty stuff imported from her planet. Nothing, including babies and puppies, were nutritious enough for anyone from off world to survive.
She plopped down on her nest and cried. Even if it was dangerous to make friends, she did not want to be all alone anymore. She pulled the same cell- phone looking thing from a table nearby and disappeared again.
She confidently walked out of the woods, back into the kickball field. There was another class out playing now, since all of the fourth graders had gone in. The boys took one look and screamed. Except one- she knew it would happen. One of the kids in the recess after hers, a second grader, was another off- planet, bet she had never been able to make friends, since they were two years apart. But now she had left her suit at home and had thrown caution to the winds.
Friends? She asked, holding out the equivalent of a hand. He nods and walks over to her, just as the teachers come into view. He looks arrogantly back at the teachers.
Idiots, he remarks in the natural off world language. He strips off his suit as she pulls out her cell- phone looking thing. Too fast for the eyes of the rest of the people, the two friends leave, leaving a pile of his suit that looks like simply skins and clothes. The two teachers scream bloody murder.
