Exploring New Territory
TEN YEARS AGO
Jean’s gut as her third-grade school group ascended the museum stairs. Head down, clutching her permission slip, she lagged behind her exuberant classmates. After a few steps, her squinted eyes drifted up to the clouds, losing herself in endless daydreams about traveling to other worlds.
“Jean! Pay attention,” Ms. Wilkenson scolded.
Jean slid her group assignment card from her pocket and sighed. Of course, she got stuck with her least favorite people. The first was Petra, the class know-it-all who loved making fun of her. Petra was also the tallest and most athletic girl in the class, which was probably why she felt as if she could boss everyone around. The second enemy in-charge was Petra’s best friend, Amber. Although not as tall, Amber always followed Petra’s lead. She dressed like a fashion icon and often walked with a rhythmic stride, as if she was a model on a fashion show runway.
As the museum doors slid open, a chill slithered down Jean’s spine. She lingered outside, wary of the strange symbols marking the entrance while her classmates charged ahead.
“Ew, Jean’s going to infect the exhibits with her weirdness,” Petra sneered, knocking into Jean’s shoulder as she walked by. Jean winced. The other kids erupted in laughter. Heat flushed Jean’s cheeks. She tried to ignore their teasing, but their words pierced like darts.
“Okay, quiet everyone.” Ms. Wilkenson glanced up from a clipboard, grabbed the whistle dangling from the cord around her neck, took a deep breath and blew into the whistle. Ms. Wilkenson was a stout woman who barely stood taller than most of her students. “Quiet, everyone. Make sure you’re with your assigned chaperone group.”
Petra faced Jean and stuck out her tongue before raising her hand and skipping toward Ms. Wilkenson. “Mrs. W, Jean is in the wrong group.”
Ms. Wilkenson wagged her finger. “Stop your nonsense. She’s in the right group. Remember, if you become separated from the class, find the nearest museum employee. They will know how to locate us.”
Petra wildly waved her arm. “Mrs. W.! Mrs. W.! Jean’s eyes are glowing.”
Ms. Wilkenson sighed as she peeked over the edge of her wire-frame glasses with her beady eyes. “What? Her eyes are growing?”
“Glowing. Her eyes are glowing. They look like a spooky monster,” Petra said, leering at Jean as her mouth twisted into a smirk.
The entire class erupted in laughter, and Jean could feel her skin crawl as all eyes were on her. “Freak!” someone yelled.
Jean turned away from Petra and sighed. Now, she’s making up stuff about my eyes. What’s next? I’m so sick of her. The sun is in my eyes. Doesn’t she know what sunlight is?
Ms. Wilkenson rolled her eyes and blew her whistle. “Quiet down, everyone. Now, I have one more thing to mention before we get started. Anyone who does not stay with their group and follow the chaperone’s instructions will not participate in the class pizza party.” Ms. Wilkenson glanced over her shoulder as the museum tour guide approached the class. “Okay, it looks like they’re ready for us.”
As Jean walked toward Ms. Bronson, Amber snuck up behind her, yanking her ponytail, pulling her curls taut. Petra and Amber giggled.
Ms. Bronson turned towards the girls and smiled. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh nothing. Just a friend joke,” Amber said.
“You don’t want to share the friend joke with your mom?”
The tour guide displayed a wide, cheerful smile as she greeted them. “Welcome, everyone!” she sang in an overly perky voice. “The first exhibit is my absolute favorite in the entire museum. It’s the space exhibit. The space exhibit will surround you with a digital galaxy as you explore the room. The exhibit also features human-like holograms, and a NASA-powered telescope along with rocks and other particles from outer space. Enjoy.” The door slid open.
As soon as Jean entered, a rush of warmth filled her body. She paused in front of an illuminated display titled “Are We Alone?” Inside the glass case, a miniature UFO hovered above a model farm as a farmer stood, gaping in shock.
Jean imagined herself flying off into space, free from the bullies and the constant teasing. She wandered toward the end of the room, away from her chaperone group, and stared at the ceiling as stars glistened and planets rotated around the sun. Then she closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to venture into outer space.
After ten minutes, Jean made her way to the holograph area. As she approached it, a female holograph appeared above a short pedestal and spoke in a smooth, electronic-sounding voice. “Hello, my name is Anta. I can teach you about space exploration, planets, the sun, galaxies, or asteroids. Which one would you like to learn about today?”
Jean waved her arms through the hologram. She couldn’t believe how much it looked like a real person. “Planets.”
Anta nodded. “Great! I will start with Saturn.” A holographic image of the solar system surrounded Jean and a video of Saturn zoomed to the front. Anta explained Saturn’s features and provided details about its rings and its place in the solar system. Jean watched the video in awe. Space always fascinated her, but she had seen nothing like this before. The hologram was so realistic that she felt like she was standing on Saturn’s surface, gazing up at its stunning rings. Wow, it would be so cool to be an astronaut. They get to go to other planets.
As Anta explained the different planets, a strange sensation flowed through Jean’s body, causing her to shudder. It seemed as if her legs were melting into the floor. She tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the presentation, but it distracted her. After jiggling her legs, they were normal a few moments later.
When the presentation about planets ended, Jean didn’t hear her classmates’ usual loud chatter. A chill shot down her spine as she realized she was completely alone. The silence was deafening and the dim lights of the exhibit room flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows on the walls. She swiveled around and her eyes searched the empty exhibit room. Her heart raced as panic set in. She dashed out of the exhibit room, crashing headfirst into a lady. “Sorry,” Jean mumbled.
The lady chuckled. “Always watch where you’re going, Jean.”
Jean glanced up at the lady, who had a huge smile, brown skin, and short, cropped, curly hair. She appeared to be the same age as Jean’s teacher and reminded Jean of the military lady who came to the school for career day. How does she know my name? Maybe I misunderstood. She must not have said Jean. Jean shrugged before sprinting away to find her classmates.
As Jean looked toward the end of the hall, a kid resembling one of her classmates entered an exhibit. She hurried down the hall and darted in behind him. She was mistaken; the kid she saw wasn’t in her class. He was just someone visiting the museum with his parents.
A grassy, piney scent pierced Jean’s nostrils. On one side of the room, there was a large sign that read “Plants of the Tundra” hanging above a wide variety of lichen and moss. As Jean studied the vegetation, she read about how the plants survive in such frigid environments. Jean reached a finger toward one plant when she heard laughter. She turned around and saw Amber and Petra standing behind her, pointing and laughing.
“Ooh look, weird girl is playing with moss,” Petra said as she shoved past Jean. Amber and Petra laughed. “That’s why she gets a new mom every year. She’s so weird.”
Jean sighed. “Leave me alone,” she whined.
“Leave me alone,” Petra mocked as she leaned over close to Jean’s face. Jean pushed her away. Turning toward Amber, Petra exclaimed, “Did you see what she did?”
“Yeah, she must be tryin’ to start a fight. You should tell Ms. Wilkenson.”
Petra’s nostrils flared as she leaned close to Jean’s face. “Is that it, freak? You wanna fight? I’m ready right now.”
Jean quickly walked away toward another part of the exhibit that explained the tundra climate. Petra and Amber followed her, but she dashed into a small, unmarked room and pulled the heavy door shut. Jean leaned forward, resting her ear against the door.
“She’s in there!” Petra exclaimed.
The door’s lock clicked. Jean kept her ear pressed to the door as the muffled sound of Petra and Amber’s laughter decreased. Finally, silence filled the air. Relieved, Jean turned the doorknob and pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Help!” Jean banged and kicked the door. “Help me! Can somebody help get me out?” Jean grabbed the door handle and shook it as she slammed her other fist into the door. The door still did not budge, and it seemed as if no one could hear her. Despite the icy air clawing at her skin, her body temperature warmed, eliciting a shudder. She glanced at her arms. There was a yellowish hue to her skin. She collapsed onto the frigid, hard floor, tears streaming down her face. Why don’t they just leave me alone?
As the tears flowed, Jean thought about her life over the last few years, moving to and from the homes of strangers. Three months ago, she moved into the Anderson’s home and they had been so nice, buying her a closet full of clothes and treating her like a member of the family. She’d never met a more loving couple, although she still kept a bag packed with her favorite clothes and toys to be ready in case she had to move. And now, she was stuck alone in a room, wondering if she would ever get out.
Two hours passed, and Jean’s stomach rumbled. She glanced toward the door. There was a thermostat perched near the corner which displayed a temperature of 10 degrees Fahrenheit. Jean stood up and yawned as she stared at her fingertips, which appeared a bright red color. A bone-chilling terror coursed through her veins as she frantically banged on the door and screamed. Two minutes later, the door lock clicked. A medium-build maintenance man wearing dark blue overalls peered down at Jean. “What are you doing in there?”
Jean’s heart pounded in her chest as if it was trying to escape. She darted out of the room and slammed into a tour guide wearing a purple blazer with blue trousers and high heels. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“This little lady was locked in tundra storage,” the maintenance man said.
The tour guide eyeballed Jean. “Oh, no! You poor dear. You feel okay, sweetie? Not too cold?”
Jean shook her head and flexed her fingers. Her skin still tingled with unnatural warmth.
The tour guide grabbed Jean’s hand and faced the group she was leading. “Excuse me, everyone. I need to help this young lady find her group. Continue looking around the tundra exhibit, and I will be back shortly.” As they exited the exhibit, the tour guide paused. “You’re sure you don’t need a blanket?”
“No,” Jean murmured.
“Well, your hand feels pretty warm. You’re not an icicle, so you couldn’t have been in there too long, huh? Let’s go find your group. Who are you here with?”
“My school.”
The tour guide’s forehead creased with concern. “Sweetie, what’s the name of your school?”
Jean lowered her head. “Explorers Elementary,” she said, sniffling.
“Okay, honey, let’s go to the information desk and page your group. What grade are you in?”
“Third.”
As soon as Jean arrived at the information desk, she saw Ms. Wilkenson and her classmates walking toward them.
“Jean! What did I tell you about staying with your group? Didn’t you hear the page? Do you know how much time we had to spend looking for you?” Ms. Wilkenson exclaimed.
“Oh, the poor dear was trapped in the tundra storage room for a short while, but she’s not cold and there are no signs of frostbite. It’s good we got to her before too long. It looks like she was only in there for a few minutes,” the tour guide said, placing a comforting hand on Jean’s shoulder.
Ms. Wilkenson shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Everyone, this is why I tell you to remain with your group and to contact a museum worker if you get lost. It’s for your own good. There are lots of places where you can get hurt.” She pivoted toward Jean. “You’ll stay with me from now on. No pizza party for you either.”
Petra and Amber giggled as they whispered to each other.
Jean sighed. “But Ms. Wilk—”
“Freak!” Petra yelled, and Jean’s classmates roared with laughter.
“Everyone, quiet down. Petra, I better not hear one more word from you. Our next stop is the cafeteria,” Ms. Wilkenson said.
After eating, the class gathered by the entrance. Still shaken, Jean stayed close to the teachers as they left the building. As soon as Jean stepped through the door, Petra shoved past, ramming her lanky body into a marble pillar. Jean winced in agony as her arm struck the cold, unyielding marble. “Ow,” she cried out, clutching her wrist as a sudden tingling energy surged through her body in response. Her wrist swelled to two times its size.
Ms. Wilkenson rushed to Jean’s side. “Somebody alert the museum. Get a medic,” she yelled, her hand applying pressure to Jean’s bruised and rapidly swelling wrist. “Are you okay? Can you move your hand? Try moving your fingers.”
Jean’s body tensed as she stared at her wrist without saying a word.
Suddenly, Ms. Wilkenson gasped. Jean’s wrist moved, the veins beneath her skin shifting and wriggling, creating the illusion of a miniature marble running through them. Her eyes widened as the wrist returned to its normal size.
Jean stood with her mouth gaping open as she flexed her fingers. Within moments, the bruise and pain had disappeared.
Ms. Wilkenson pressed on Jean’s wrist with her thumbs. “Rapid cellular regeneration…” she murmured. “But how?”
Out of nowhere, the military lady Jean saw earlier ran over to Ms. Wilkenson and tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Ms. Wilkenson, we need to talk,” she whispered.
Ms. Wilkenson nodded and the two women strolled away from the students, carrying on a conversation out of Jean’s earshot.
Petra gawked, stammering “Freak!” under her breath. Around Jean, the others shrank back in dismay and horror.
Jean trembled, waves of fear and exhilaration crashing over her. What am I? The question echoed in her mind. She had no answers, only the bewildering experience of undergoing a rapid metamorphosis into an unknown existence.