It was ten days before Aja’s surprise birthday party.

The doorbell rang. I put down my social studies book and clattered down the stairs. Mom was out in the greenhouse, and Dad was gone.

I opened the door.

Mrs. Lynx nodded to me. “Your family is still new in town. I hadn’t heard of a baby shower, so I thought I’d just stop by.”

What was a baby shower? After they were born, did Earthlings give their babies a public bath or shower?

I asked Mrs. Lynx to wait in the living room.

“Mom!” I burst into the greenhouse, and explained about Mrs. Lynx.

Mom brushed off her dirty hands, stuffed her pillow under her shirt, and waddled into the house. She told me, “Get some tea to serve.”

“Thank you for coming by,” Mom said. “How can I help you?”

“I came about the new baby,” Mrs. Lynx said.

I set down a tray with a pitcher of tea and three glasses.

Mom reached over to hold my hand. Tight. “What about the baby?” Mom’s voice quivered in fear.

Mrs. Lynx handed Mom a package wrapped with blue ribbons.

Mom turned loose of my hand and took it. She turned it over and over, unsure what to do.

“Go on,” Mrs. Lynx said. “Open it.”

“Of course,” Mom said. “Would you pour the iced tea, please?”

Mrs. Lynx poured tea into each glass. Carefully, Mom untied each ribbon, folded it, and put it beside her on the couch. To delay opening the box, Mom took a drink of tea, then set her glass down.

Mrs. Lynx stared at Mom’s glass. She whispered, “Is that your fingerprint?”

There it was. A dirty zigzag fingerprint.

Mom said, “I’ve been out in the greenhouse planting things.”

“And trying out the fake fingerprints for Aja’s surprise party. Right, Mom?” I said.

Mom looked from me to Mrs. Lynx. She nodded.

I asked, “What do you think, Mrs. Lynx? Good joke or not?”

Softly, Mrs. Lynx asked, “May I see your fingertips?”

Mom put her hands behind her back. “My hands are dirty from the greenhouse.”

Mrs. Lynx held out her own hand and repeated, “Your hands, please?”

Just then, Dad came in.

While Dad shook Mrs. Lynx’s hands, I used my t-shirt to wipe Mom’s fingerprint off the glass. At the same time, Mom looked down at the gift box. She pulled up a piece of scotch tape. Deliberately, she put her finger on it, and then pulled it off.

Mom held up the tape. “Look! Zigzag fingerprints! Whoever wrapped this must be an alien!”

Mrs. Lynx blushed and shook her head. “I wrapped that. I’m not an alien.”

“Are you sure?” Mom stared at her until Mrs. Lynx looked away.

I took a sip of tea to hide my smile. Mom was smart.

Mom put the tape onto the table. She opened the box, and there was a hand-made quilt. At the top were the letters: S-M-I-T-H.

“You made this?” Mom asked in surprise.

“Yes, I like to quilt,” Mrs. Lynx said. “I try to give baby quilts when a family has a new baby.”

Mom’s face softened. She leaned toward Mrs. Lynx, and I was afraid Mom might try to hug my principal.

“Thank you,” Mom said. “We don’t have lots of friends here yet, so this is—“ Mom stroked the soft quilt. “Thank you.”

Dad repeated, “Thank you.”

Now there was an awkward silence.

Mrs. Lynx frowned at the scotch tape fingerprint. She opened her mouth to say something else.

Mom did the only thing she could. She grabbed her stomach pillow and moaned.

“Oh! Are you having the baby?” Mrs. Lynx stood abruptly.

Mom moaned and said, “John, would you call Doc East, please?”

Dad took the hint. “Mrs. Lynx, if you don’t mind. I think you should come back and visit another time. My wife isn’t feeling well.”

“Babies are exciting, aren’t they?” Mrs. Lynx said. “Maybe this one will come early.”

Later, when I cleaned up the tea glasses, I realized that the scotch tape was gone. Mrs. Lynx had taken it. She had my Mom’s fingerprint. Now, she had three sets of alien fingerprints: mine, my mom’s, and the fake ones. What would the S.A.C. do with them?

This wasn’t over. Mrs. Lynx, the president of the S.A.C., suspected my Mom was an alien. Mrs. Lynx wouldn’t quit until she had her alien, and had sold it to the government. When Greenie Boy hatched, would his mother still be here? I worried and worried.

After supper Bree came over, and I showed her the SMITH baby quilt. I told her about Mrs. Lynx stealing Mom’s fingerprints.

“I’m worried,” Bree said.

“Me, too.” Somehow, I felt better because Bree was worried, too.

We took the SMITH quilt out to show Greenie Boy.

In the greenhouse, we wrapped the quilt around the egg.

Bree said, “I think I’ll sing to him again.”

Here’s what she sang:

Skinny Marinky

Skinny marinky rinky dinky

Skinny marinky doo

I love you

Skinny marinky rinky dinky

Skinny marinky doo

I love you

I love you in the morning and in the afternoon

I love you in the evening and beneath the silver moon

Skinny marinky rinky dinky

Skinny marinky doo

I love you

I really mean it

I love you

Let's say it again now

I love you

That was a nonsense song. I know this because I asked Bree what it meant.

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just fun to say. Try it.”

“Marinky.”

“Hey,” Bree said. “That’s what you should name him. Marinky.”

I tried it out. “Marinky Smith and Kell Smith.” It did sound good. “I’ll tell Mom and Dad about that name and see what they think.”

“Great,” Bree said. “I gotta go now.”

Bree opened the door to the greenhouse to leave. But she turned back around and hit me on the shoulder. Wait. Why do Earthling girls do that? Does that mean she likes me, or doesn’t like me