Chapter Four
FRIDAY, JANUARY 16
What the FAQ?!
It’s Sh’ovah Day, and what better way to celebrate my impending L’eihr citizenship than to feed your inquiring minds? Without further ado, here are the most frequently asked questions this week:
Sarah in San Marcos asks: Are there really no sweets on L’eihr? Can we send you a Hershey’s care package?
Thanks, Sarah, that’s so SWEET of you. Hardy-har-har. To answer your question: yes and no. Natural sugars don’t exist here, and my nutrition counselor won’t let me have candy from the transport. He claims I’m an addict and that my body is going through detox. Maybe he’s right. You don’t want to know what I’d do for some Pixy Stix.
Tori in Midtown (my paranoid BFF) asks: Why aren’t you posting any pics? I want to see for myself that you’re okay. How do we know you’re the one who’s writing all this stuff?
Step away from the National Enquirer, my friend. I’m not preggers with an alien baby or being held here against my will. The L’eihrs have requested that I don’t share photos or video of their home without prior approval. And how do you know this is me? I’ll prove it: in seventh grade, you burped really loudly in Social Studies, and I took the blame so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Jared Lee. You’re welcome for that, by the way. Also, lay off the onions.
Dixie in Columbus asks: How do you get news on L’eihr? Do you watch television?
Great question! Nope, there are no TV shows or movies here. News is delivered to our com-spheres, and we’re expected to listen to the updates immediately. Think of a com-sphere as the ultimate iPhone. It emits a frequency only I can hear, and if I ignore my sphere, it’ll keep pestering me until I answer it.
Okay, guys, that’s it for now. I need to get ready for my Sh’ovah. Just think: the next time I post to this blog, I’ll be an official L’eihr citizen! Isn’t that awesome?
Posted by Cara Sweeney
“Psh,” Cara whispered. Getting naked in front of aliens wasn’t her idea of awesome, but whatever.
She closed her laptop and crept to the door as quietly as possible to avoid waking Elle, who snored softly from the top bunk. Eron had been right when he’d called the sound “endearing.” Elle slept on her tummy with both hands tucked beneath her chest, snuffling like a child. It was such a cute contrast to the businesslike way she directed Cara from class to class during the daytime.
Cara slipped into the hall and tiptoed to the community bathroom, pleased to find it vacant. Privacy was a rare delicacy in the Aegis, and she needed a few moments to herself today.
She snatched a microfiber towel from the shelf and blotted her face. Her impending Sh’ovah had her perspiring like a linebacker, but whether on Earth or in another galaxy, high school was a battlefield. Cara never let anyone see her sweat.
After wiping down the back of her neck and the crooks of her elbows, she balled up her towel and chucked it into the waterless purifying chute, where ultrasonic waves and infrared technology would decontaminate it.
Cara fingered the lapel of her stiff white ceremonial robe. A quick glance over one shoulder showed she was still alone, but she knew from experience the bathroom wouldn’t remain vacant once the sun rose in a few minutes. So without wasting another second of rare solitude, she dropped her robe to the floor and regarded her naked body in the reflective wall opposite the showers.
Right away, she noticed a slight roundness to her lower abdomen—that troublesome spot no amount of crunches would flatten. She sucked it in, and from there, her gaze moved from ankles to thighs, noting the smooth, polished effect she’d achieved last night from scrubbing her skin with a mixture of oil and salt procured from the kitchen. Her ivory complexion glowed, and with any luck, it would reflect the high-noon sunlight and blind all her guests.
She loosened her ponytail and pulled her auburn strands forward to see if they’d cover her breasts, but no dice. With a frown, she secured her hair with the jeweled clasp Elle had given her as a sponsor gift, then donned her robe as the first yawning clone shuffled in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Cara didn’t know the girl’s name. She hated to admit it, but most of the clones still looked the same to her. “Mahra,” Cara said, shrinking back at her own loud echo. She hadn’t learned many words yet, but she could manage hello, good-bye, and sorry, pardon my ignorance.
The girl paused, taking in the circular bronze emblems that adorned the shoulders of Cara’s ceremonial robe. They were symbols of the Sacred Mother, L’eihr itself, and the stark white of the fabric represented the purity of heart with which Cara would pledge her fealty to the planet. Funny how white stood for virtue no matter which galaxy you inhabited.
The girl pursed her lips in hesitation, and after scanning the room as if to ensure they were alone, she offered a curt “Welcome,” in broken English before striding to a nearby toilet enclosure. It wasn’t much, but that quiet greeting was more than Cara had received from her schoolmates since she’d joined their ranks.
Maybe this Sh’ovah was a good idea after all.
Another girl strode into the washroom, and she was one of the few clones Cara recognized. She carried herself with more arrogance than the rest, and her mouth was always pinched in a scowl. Her name was Dahla, and she’d been the first to give Cara “the finger.”
Cara tipped her head in a greeting and waited for the girl to do the same. But Dahla tossed back her ponytail and strode toward the toilets, making sure to bump Cara’s arm extra hard when she passed.
“Open your eyes,” Dahla said in English. “Clumsy human.”
Refusing to be baited, Cara held her head high and returned to her room. She reminded herself of what Aelyx had said. Everything would be all right. The clones simply needed time to get used to her.
She clung to the remnants of that confidence hours later, when Troy’s knuckles rapped on her bedroom door. “Elle isn’t here,” she told him. Cara suspected that most of his visits were really covert missions to cozy up to her roommate.
“Good,” Troy said. “’Cause I want to talk to you alone.” He flicked a glance at her robe and took a step back, eyeing her warily, as if she might detonate if he got too close. He wrinkled his nose and extended one index finger. “Are you naked under there?”
Cara wrapped the lapels more snugly across her chest and tightened the belt at her waist. “Don’t be such a prude. I’m more covered up now than all the times you’ve seen me in a bathing suit.” Thank God that only L’eihr citizens could attend her Sh’ovah. She’d die a thousand deaths if Troy saw her naked. But to complete her ruse of boldness, she added, “There’s nothing obscene about the human body. You’re only ashamed because our society taught you to be.”
He folded his arms and focused over her shoulder, taking an abrupt interest in her room. Not that there was anything remotely interesting in there. Bare gray walls and minimalist furnishings made up her décor, consisting of a bunk bed and a cabinet that looked like a cross between an armoire and a refrigerator.
“I can’t have a conversation with you while you’re naked,” Troy complained. “It skeeves me out.”
“Then come back later.”
“I can’t. It’ll be too late then.”
“Too late for what?”
Puffing in exasperation, he turned to face her. “Too late to talk you out of this citizenship stuff. You don’t belong here, Pepper. This place is…uh…” He deliberated over his next choice of words, then leaned in and confided, “Intense.” While she shook her head, Troy hitched a thumb toward Aelyx’s vacant room a few doors down. “Listen, I know you like this guy—”
“Love,” she corrected. “I love this guy.”
“Right.” He flashed his most condescending whatever face. “But you’ve got nothing in common. It won’t last.”
Cara gripped her waist. “Just because you change girlfriends before your gum loses flavor doesn’t mean my relationship is doomed to fail.”
“It’s basic statistics.” His blue eyes flashed to hers. “You know what the divorce rate is for teens?” Without giving her a chance to guess, he announced, “Three times the national average.”