CHAPTER 4 [PLESKIT] MY BODYGUARD
When I walked into our new kitchen the morning of my first day of school I found a tall, dark-skinned Earthling leaning against the counter. He was dressed in a black suit.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling frightened.
“You must be Pleskit,” he replied. “My name’s McNally. Robert McNally. I’m going to be your bodyguard.”
“My what?”
“Your protector.”
I was very puzzled by this. “What are you going to protect me against, Mr. McNally?”
He moved his shoulders up and down, a gesture I later learned is called a shrug. “Cuckoos. Crazies. Bad guys. Anyone who might want to hurt you.”
My fear deepened into terror. Until now, my worries about school had all been social ones: Would the kids like me? Would I do anything to embarrass the Fatherly One? Would I experience emotional damage? It had never occurred to me I would be in physical danger.
“Why would the kids want to hurt me?” I asked. My clinkus was so tight I could hardly get the words out of my mouth.
Mr. McNally made a tiny snorting sound. “Not the kids. Well, probably not. Mostly adults. Outsiders.”
“But why?” I asked again.
He did another one of those shrug things. “Because you’re different. That’s all it takes for some folks. You scare them.”
This was such a horrifying thing to say that it convinced me the training modules were right about Earthlings telling the absolute truth. Why would he say such a thing unless he absolutely had to?
The Fatherly One’s secretary, Mikta-makta-mookta, came scurrying into the kitchen. Though it is hard to read her expressions with all that fur on her face, she seemed a little embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Pleskit! I had intended to be here to introduce you to Mr. McNally.”
“Please,” he said. “Call me McNally. Just McNally.”
“As you wish,” said Mikta-makta-mookta. But her attention was all on me. Her voice dripping with disapproval, she said, “I thought we had discussed what you were going to wear today.”
I groaned. “Do I have to?”
She wiggled her nose, a sure sign she was annoyed. “Of course you don’t have to, Pleskit. I’m sure it won’t bother your Fatherly One in the least if you ignore his wishes in this matter. Why would you want to bother to present yourself well to your new classmates anyway? No, you can go as you are.”
My sphen-gnut-ksher was starting to spark. Without intending to, I reverted to speaking in Hevi-Hevian. “Gezup-gezop!” I said, popping the knuckle on my left thumb three times.
At once, I realized that I had broken the Fatherly One’s order about using only Earth language so we will get comfortable with it. “I’m sorry,” I said meekly.
Then I went to change my clothes.
The question “What should I wear to school?” gets more complicated when you move to a new planet.
When I had discussed the matter with Mikta-makta-mookta the night before, she had said that for the first day I should go in a kling-ghat, which is what we wear for formal occasions on Hevi-Hevi.
(That’s the best way I can figure out to write “kling-ghat,” by the way; the full name for it involves two hand gestures, a large burp, and a tiny fart. But those don’t translate into Earth languages very well.)
I would have preferred the simple clothes I had been wearing, which were not unlike what Earthlings call a shirt and pants. But I did not want to disappoint the Fatherly One. So I went back to my room and put on my kling-ghat.
“Much better,” said Mikta-makta-mookta when I returned to the kitchen.
I sat down at the table and ate some febril gnurxis, my favorite breakfast food. Based on what I have sampled of Earth foods, I’d say it’s a little like brown sugar and ice cream, with some crunchy bits mixed in. It’s very nutritious.
Shhh-foop, whom you Earthlings would call the cook but we speak of as “the queen of the kitchen,” came sliding in. (Shhh-foop’s full name is “Shhh-foop <click> [onion smell], but there is no good way to do that in Earth language.)
“Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. McNally?” she sang.
“Thank you, Shhh-foop,” said McNally. I could tell he was trying hard to keep his voice normal and not to stare. I did not take this as a good sign. If Earthlings thought Shhh-foop, who is only a 3, looks strange, how will they react when they meet someone at the far end of the Physical Chart—someone who is a 20, or a 40?
Shhh-foop slid across the floor to a clear glass counter and slapped it with one of her tentacles. A small door popped open and a steaming pot of black liquid rose as if from nowhere. Next to it were several cups. Shhh-foop filled one, then carried it back to McNally.
He took a sip. A strange expression crossed his face and I could tell he was trying hard not to spit the liquid out.
“Oh, dear,” sang Shhh-foop, using her voice of tragedy. “I fear I have not yet learned the proper way to brew this Earth beverage. I will work on it while you are gone today.”
“Thanks,” squeaked McNally. He put down the cup. “Come on, Pleskit. Let’s go.”
I swallowed hard, made the small fart of nervousness, and followed him out the door.