The next day, right before lunch, my class went from homeroom to music class.
Mr. Vega, the music teacher, said, “Today, we will start practicing for a Parent’s Night concert. Mrs. Lynx is here today to help choose a soloist.”
Mrs. Lynx, the principal, sat on a stool beside the piano.
Mr. Vega said, “Who would like to try out for a solo?”
Beside me, Bree raised her hand.
I like to lie on my bed and sing Bix music to the stars and constellations and galaxies out my window. On Bix, Dad and I often sang duets. So I raised my hand, too.
It made me look at my wrist.
I had just shed my skin yesterday, and there was still one patch with old skin. I pulled my hand down and peeled off the skin and stuck it in my pocket.
Had Bree seen? Or Mrs. Lynx? Or anyone else?
No one said anything or looked at me funny.
Mr. Vega said, “Bree, Kell and Cherry. Come up, and we’ll see what you can do.”
Bree smiled at me. “I’ll get to do the solo, of course.”
But I wanted to do it, too. I followed Bree to the front to stand by the tall, red piano.
Mr. Vega said, “Kell, could you sing first, please?”
I started singing and let me tell you, I can hit a note. I stay on the right notes all the time.
My country t’is of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of Thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died
Land of the Pilgrim’s pride
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.
Of course, my grandfathers didn’t die on Earth. They died on Bix. And I didn’t know what Pilgrims were. But I could add Pilgrims to my Look Up Later List.
“Kell, I must say, your voice is out of this world,” said Mrs. Lynx. Then she used her loud voice to tell me to sing soft. That means, she yelled at me, “Please, sing softer!”
Uh-oh. Mrs. Lynx, the UFO-Chaser, was on my tail. So I just stopped singing.
Mr. Vega frowned. “Thanks, Kell. Let’s hear Bree and Cherry try it.”
While Cherry and Bree sang, I looked at the top of the piano. Mr. Vega had statues of famous musicians like Mozart and Bach.
I always felt sorry for really good Earthling musicians. None of them had arms or legs.
Mrs. Lynx frowned at me, so I turned back to the singing.
Cherry’s voice bounced around. She sang loud and soft, but she could not stay on the right notes.
Bree sang the notes, and she did loud and soft, too.
Mrs. Lynx smiled, “Bree, you can sing the solo.”
Then Bree smiled, and that smile made the Earth’s sun shine inside me again. Except a black thundercloud came out and covered the sun. Because I wanted to sing that solo.
That Bree. She stole the solo away from me. I was better than Cherry. I was better than Bree.
Walking out to lunch, Mrs. Lynx stopped me and bent to stare straight into my eyes. “Do you have a cold or something?”
Her eyes were dark blue, almost navy. What would she do if she found out I was an alien? My family didn’t get Earthling colds. But it was an easy way to explain my loud singing. “Yes, ma’am. I just got over a cold.”
She frowned, but walked off, shaking her head.
In the lunchroom, I told Bree, “That song is still running around in my head.”
“That must mean there’s nothing in your head to get in its way. Ha.” Bree smiled to show that was a joke.
I frowned at my lunch plate. It was green beans, meat loaf and chocolate cake. My replicator would be sad to make something so ugly. "In my old home, Dad and I sang duets all the time," I said. And I ached suddenly for the red skies of Bix. Would we ever get home?
Bree said, "My Country T'is of Thee is historical. Everyone has to learn it."
"Well, it's a dumb song," I said.
Now Bree looked mad. "That is not a fact." She ate a quick bite of her cake, then frowned and pushed it away. She never liked the school food, but her mother wouldn’t let her bring their chef’s food to school.
Just then, I heard a BUZZ. Quick, I looked around. It was another flying bug.
"What is it? Will it sting?" I could barely breathe.
"A wasp. Yes, it stings!"
It was flying my way.
Buzz. Buzz.
Closer.
Buzz. Closer.
I stood up fast. And there went my lunch tray. It went up and up and sent chocolate cake and green beans and meat loaf flying.
"Oh!" Bree yelled, and kids yelled, and everything in the lunchroom was loud.
Quick, I took off my shoe and knocked that wasp to the ground and then hit it with the shoe. That wasp was dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
I hate all Earthling bugs!
And everything in the lunchroom was quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
Quiet.
OK, I thought, it is possible to put lots of kids in a small room and get them to be quiet.
Then, I sat down hard. And everyone started talking again.
A chunk of cake fell off of Bree’s hair. Plop! Right into her napkin. She whispered, “That was magnificent.” Then, she giggled.
I put on my shoe and watched her clean the cake out of her hair with her napkin. Bree knew just what to say to make things OK. How did she do that?
Earthling girls are funny. And nice.