“Whoa, hey, the alien chick! What’s it doing in the bushes?”
“Is it eating leaves?”
“It’s a space cow!”
I gritted my teeth and kept walking.
It figured she would end up in my calculus course. What subject is more universal than math, right? Although they probably stuck her in this one because it was only half-full, and the desks could move. I was early and helped Professor Doppler shift chairs around to make room. Apparently, the alien didn’t need an actual chair, so the space we made stayed empty.
“They like to stand, I’m told,” Prof said when I asked about it. “Or lie down. The whole staff received information packets on felnim cultural norms to help make it comfortable, but I frankly don’t care. So long as it has a mind for learning, it can do what it wants.”
“Her,” I muttered. What was with people calling her an it? Anyone with eyes could see she was a girl. Even her animal half had that graceful build you saw in most female mammals.
Prof had the decency to look embarrassed. “Right,” he mumbled as I stacked the last chair. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced at me, then out the window, taking in the blue sky. “Right. This will take some getting used to, won’t it? Aliens among us and all.”
“No kidding” was my only response as I went to sit in the back. Stuff like this would probably become more common if we kept going the way we were going. That didn’t mean it had to be any of my business.
Felnim . . . so that’s what she was.
Class proved more eventful than usual, if only because, instead of falling asleep in their chairs, everyone kept sneaking glances at the alien centaur. She didn’t stand or lie down, just sat on her haunches like a dog and took notes on a tablet. Her facial fur was darker brown around the eyes, giving her almost a raccoon look. Her only clothes were a modest Earth-style T-shirt and a kind of broad band around her lower half’s belly and back, with attachments like saddlebags on the sides. Some of the guys whispered rude comments about pants. I fidgeted with my mechanical pencil and focused on taking notes.
“Before we go, class,” Prof said while we all stared at the clock in a concerted effort to will time forward, “does anyone have questions about the upcoming exam?”
The felnim girl raised her furry hand. Everyone stared. Prof cleared his throat. “Yes . . . uh . . .” He glanced down at the papers on his desk. “Ms. Vasa, is it?”
“Vas’tca,” she offered. “That’s fine, though.” She spoke surprisingly good English, but her voice bore a thick accent, a sort of rumble at the back of her throat like distant thunder on the plains. “Uh, can you t’ell me sh’ere I can get notes?” She seemed to have trouble with w’s.
“Well, I don’t have anything worked up . . . perhaps one of your classmates would offer?” He glanced around the room. I dipped lower in my chair, hat over my eyes. The lack of response aside from shifting noises hinted that everyone else did similar. Prof let the uncomfortable silence drag on a few seconds longer before clearing his throat. “I’ll see what I can print up for you, Ms. . . . Vasa.”
“Th’ank you.”
It was weird just how human she sounded.
“I hear they’re planning to move whole families in over the next year.” Carla slurped a spaghetti noodle as we sat at a round table outside the college’s main cafeteria. Luke, Ben, and February filled the other seats, our usual Thursday lunch study group. Yes, her name is February. Carla waved a fork for emphasis. “And not just the felnim either. I hear we’ll need to integrate more of each member species throughout the country if we want to join the coalition.”
“Even the creepy amoeba people?” Ben asked. He shuddered theatrically. Ben did everything theatrically. “Have you heard the stories about those things? We’ll be lucky if half of us aren’t replaced by blue Jell-O monsters before spring semester.” I mentally winced. Thanks, Ben, now I’ll never enjoy Jell-O again. “Whose bright idea was it to plant dangerous extraterrestrial life-forms we barely know anything about right in the middle of a college campus, anyway?” Ben whined on. “Does nobody in the government watch movies?!”
Feb’s eyes stayed locked on her sketch pad. “And to think, last year you were all excited about us finding alien life.” She tilted the paper for a better drawing angle.
“Well—! That . . . that was before I knew they were going to be living here with us!” Ben sputtered. No one spoke, but I knew what we were all thinking. It was what everyone had been thinking since the aliens landed: aliens would be more exciting if they were a lot less, or a lot more, advanced than we were.
And if they didn’t get too close.
While Ben and Carla debated whether the centaurs, the blue shapeshifters, or the red Ferengi wannabes were stranger, I stared into the distance, trying to ignore everything and remember the location of my physics notebook. Luke had probably kicked it under the—
Luke sneered. “Oh great, don’t look now.” Everyone looked as the alien girl exited the cafeteria, her four legs weaving her gracefully between the crowded outdoor tables. She had an absolute mountain of food stacked high on a red plastic tray, which stayed nicely balanced while she looked for a spot to sit on the grass that surrounded our concrete eating area. She settled under a tree.
“Talk about being ‘hungry as a horse,’” Carla snort-chuckled.
“Fantastic,” Ben complained. “First they take our dorms, now they’re eating all our food.”
We watched for a while, as did most of the student body. A few jeers and insults wafted on the breeze; I could see her pointed, furry ears tilting like satellite dishes, but she pretended not to notice. Just like she “didn’t notice” the fluttering “INVADERS GO HOME” poster stuck to the wall less than twenty feet from her lunch spot. Who even was this girl? Nothing fazed her. Maybe people on her planet were unfamiliar with the concept of disproportionate hostility. I felt a little jealous at the thought.
I’d forgotten we had ornamental pear trees on the campus grounds. A rotten pear, launched through the air like a football, reminded me of this as it smashed into the alien’s pile of burgers, salad, pizza, panini, milk, and veggie lasagna. Laughter rippled across the courtyard, Luke and Ben’s included. Feb and Carla had the decency to look disgusted, although I wasn’t sure if it was because of the callous food vandalism or the fact that—calmly, with only a slight heave of her backside to indicate a sigh—Vasa used her thick front legs like arms to scoop food back onto her tray, and kept right on eating.
“Man, what a freak,” Luke muttered. “Add gross hygiene to its résumé.”
“Her,” I muttered. Luke narrowed his eyes at me, which I carefully didn’t notice. As we watched, the felnim turned her head, glancing over the crowd of jerk humans. I swear her eyes locked onto mine for a second when her gaze passed our table. Like she recognized something. Her eyes were blue.
I don’t know why. I couldn’t help it. I tilted my head at a point to the left and nodded. Just for a second.
People were still laughing and shouting advice as Vasa picked up the rotten pear from the mess, sniffing it carefully. They went dead silent when she suddenly winged the pear back the way it had come with the accuracy of a bullet. There was a squishy sound and a squawk from the corner of the building, and then the sound of running feet.