I continued shifted my backpack from shoulder to shoulder, following Rachel as she made her way down the halls. She hadn't said another word to me. That didn't bother me; what bothered me was why Melissa had befriended me. At first I'd considered the idea that it was a normal human benevolence towards new transfers, but if so, why hadn't anyone else ventured near me? Why hadn't Rachel bothered to speak? I felt uneasy, out of place, which was understandable, after all...

"When did you move here?" Rachel asked me in her clipped voice.

"Oh... um, last week or so?" I offered, trying to remember whether or not I'd told Melissa when I came. "My... father was transferred to this area."

Rachel was unnerving. The confidence level she radiated was almost alarming, completely different from Melissa or any other students I'd observed. She seemed completed by something, like she wasn't searching for the part of herself adolescents on Dalena and probably adolescents here still hadn't found.

I was trying to find it. The war on Dalena, working myself up the military ranks, focusing on my education and putting it to good use -- I'd thought I could throw myself into all of that and I'd finally feel secure, safe from some undefinable fear. But that was pretty much shot.

I'd defined my fear, though. My fear was monotony. My fear was normalcy. I didn't want to work a normal job as a merchant at an international or even interplanetary trade center. I didn't want to work as a custodian or a clerk in charge of records at some prosperous business. I didn't want to instruct young bored Dalenites on theories and facts. I didn't even really want to be a scientist. I wanted the military, sure -- but I didn't want to die.

I hadn't and didn't know what I wanted. But, I thought to myself, looking around, it's safe to say it wasn't this.

Dalena literature sometimes had a young Dalenite venturing to another planet, or being thrown into another planet, or being enslaved on another planet. That Dalenite always had a clue. I didn't. I had no clue. I didn't feel confident and I wasn't going to return to my homeworld in triumph. I had no cause.

No cause! That rankled in my soul. I had nothing to fight for. I didn't even have anything to fight.

"Here's the classroom," my escort announced. Catching sight of my nervous face, she generously added, "You can sit with me. Come on."

As I walked along, I felt like her shadow, or possibly a dog on a leash.

A short black girl nodded at us. "Hey, Rach."

"Hey, Cassie." Rachel nodded back, indicating a chair I gratefully sank into. "This is..." She paused. "What's your name again?"

There was nothing derrogatory about her tone, but I felt embarrassed anyway. "Kylie."

"Kylie," Rachel repeated. "Well, Cass, this is Kylie."

"Nice name," Cassie said, with a warm smile. It comforted me a little. I chanced a smile in return.

"She just transferred from..." Another pause, and then Rachel chuckled. "I've got to stop saying starting sentences I can't finish. Where'd you come from, Kylie?"

"North Dakota," I recited. "My father transferred here. He's in the military."

"Hey, cool," exclaimed Rachel, her ice blue eyes lighting up. "What branch? What's his position?"

I blinked twice, completely unaware of how to answer, and then second bell saved me. I'd figured out that at the first bell, students had to start shuffling to their classrooms; at the second bell, if they weren't in their seats yet, they were late. I was proud of myself for gathering this information.

"Class has begun," the drama teacher announced. Mr. Halstead was a sandy-haired man, with an impeccably white T-shirt under a short-sleeved flannel shirt that hung from his bony shoulders. Five long, thin fingers ended long, thin arms. His angular form would have made for a severe appearance if not for his eyes, which gleamed jovially at the thirty or so students seated five to a table.

Those eyes instantly picked me out. "Kylie! I heard I'd be getting a new student. What school did you transfer here from?"

Yeah, what school am I from? I have to work that out... "I'm from North Dakota," I answered, after a brief pause.

"What part?"

Panic rose. "Near... the southeastern... part?"

He nodded. "Interesting. Well, welcome to the school, Kylie. Jake, could you grab a book for her from that stack?" He indicated a pile of thick books placed one on top of another on a shelf against the wall. A boy close to them rose to grab one, then brought it over to me. He shared a smile with the dark-skinned girl at my table -- a smile so fast you could hardly see it if you weren't looking at him. He headed back to his seat.

I saw Rachel stifle a snicker. Cassie's lips were turned upward in a wide grin she was trying to control. I was confused. If the two humans cared for each other, why not discuss an arrangement of marriage with their parents? They couldn't be much older than I was -- certainly it was acceptable by that age. I considered voicing my question, but decided it probably wasn't that good of an idea. Observation would probably provide the answer and I'd endured enough embarrassment for one day already.

"Turn to page forty-two of your books," Mr. Halstead said. I obeyed, and found myself staring at an extremely ugly human. A swollen nose, thick eyebrows, and a wide, red mouth with yellowed teeth glared back at me, captured in the photo wearing a perpetual grin. "Let's review. How were masks used in ancient Greek theatre?"

Rachel raised her hand. "To make characteristics more exaggerated and easily seen from the audience."

"Good. What was another use? Cassie?"

"To identify stock characters," she responded, glancing down at her neatly handwritten notes.

"And stock characters are?" He scanned the classroom for a raised hand and, not finding one, settled his gaze on a Hispanic guy who had to be even shorter than Cassie. "Marco?"

Pause. Pause.

"Marco?" The teacher looked exasperated, and Jake elbowed his classmate in the ribs.

"1942," he said immediately, snapping up his hand in a salute. "Sir!"

The class laughed, partially from the joke and partially from his infectious grin. Mr. Halstead rolled his eyes. "Do your sleeping on your own time, Marco. What are stock characters?"

"I'm really not sure, sir!"

Halstead glared. "Then look it up in your notes."

"He hasn't taken notes since the first day of class, sir!" a guy across the table from him mocked.

Covertly, Jake slid his own notes over towards Marco. Marco waved them at the guy. "Have too," he said smugly. "Stock characters are characters that reoccur in different plays. Like... Harlequeen?"

"Harlequin," coughed Jake.

"Harlequin," Marco corrected himself.

"Very nice," Mr. Halstead said dryly. "Here we have a prime example of teamwork, ladies and gentlemen. Keep in mind that teamwork isn't allowed on the tests."

"Yes, sir!"

"That's getting old."

"Yes, sir!" Marco saluted again, waited until Mr. Halstead turned around, and handed the notes back to Jake.

Rachel was smirking. I looked at her. "Friends of yours...?"

The mirth evaporated from her face. "I don't know Marco that well," she answered, "but Jake's my cousin."

"Oh."

It might have been my imagination, but she and Cassie seemed to studiously avoid looking in that direction for the rest of the class.

When the bell rang again, after an hour and a half of questions and lectures on the techniques in human theatre and the history of human theatre, the bell clanged again. I stood up, eager and uneasy, and Cassie smiled at me a little. "What's your next class, Kylie?"

"Algebra II." I hefted the bookbag onto my shoulder. "I'll see you later."

"See you," she said with a little wave.

I paused outside the door for no real reason. I could hear Cassie talking to Rachel in a hushed tone as they gathered their books. "We don't want a lot of people to make that mistake."

"I know," Rachel muttered in response. "It's the first time we've all been in a class together, though. I guess we're still not used to it."

"Yeah, well --"

They rounded the corner and nearly smacked into me. I dropped a pencil, startled, and without a word Rachel picked it up and handed it back.

"Clumsy," I mumbled.

"See you, Kylie," Rachel said, a little coldly. She and Cassie moved past.

I sighed and leaned against one of the lockers lining the hall for a moment, sad and lonely. I couldn't really define why I wanted human approval so much, but not having it made me feel isolated... even more isolated than I actually was. Which was a lot. I rested my forehead against the cold metal.

"Hey."

The voice startled me. The pencil twitched again and Melissa caught it as it rolled off my books.

"Nice reflexes," I said, impressed.

"Thanks." She smiled. "I didn't know if you knew where the classroom was, so I thought I'd come and help you find it."

A lead weight lifted from my chest as my loneliness vanished. I wished I knew if an impulsive hug was acceptable in human culture. "Thanks, Melissa," I said sincerely. I wondered if she knew how much her simple gesture had meant to me.

"No problem." Her smile grew into a grin. "Come on."