ERNIE 073

by Akktri

An autobiography of a Xenomorph.

128. Chapter 135: Quacebs

"Quacebs" (Original title: "God, Love and Starships")

The whole point of writing Ernie 073 is to get people to read my book about Abreyas. Now that Ernie has moved on to a separate part of Fanfiction net (Ellie 074), I can finally share the book in a place where people might actually read it.

Since I can't tell if anyone actually liked my alternative plots more than the original, or are even reading this story anymore, I'm letting those plots rest, and posting the Abreya origin story. This will continue until somebody posts comments about how they prefer the Alien 3 plot (and maybe start reading Ellie), or the `Strange Planet' plot (possibly asking me for a new chapter), or suggest something else I haven't thought of.

An explanation: Before Lord of the Rings came The Hobbit, a silly lighthearted version of the epic that followed it, a shorter one that doesn't quite resemble the other. What you are about to read is kind of like that. Quacebs (or God, Love and Starships) is an adventure story that precedes Ernie 073 and Ellie 074. The theme of this one is light and doesn't have a single xenomorph in it. I guess I could say that I am "rickrolling" you, but not to worry, it sums up in one book. If you don't like it, feel free to skip ahead to Ellie 074 or Becky 075.

Also please note that this is my longest chapter yet, because I'm trying to get to the most important point of the story before someone complains about the cuteness. Believe it or not, I have done a hatchet job to this thing to make it super short. This first chapter used to be 87 pages long!

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Why can't my love life be this easy? the young man thought as he thumbed through another escapist novel, some Flash Gordon-esque hero rescuing a damsel who falls madly in love with him. I'd much rather fight a beautiful girl from the clutches of a monster than humiliate myself in front of one, and have her laugh in my face.

Why can't they make a textbook?

The young man had bed head, his brown hair sticking up in shabby disarray. His old Star Trek shirt had faded. Paint blotches dotted his blue jeans.

Life Drawing class hadn't started yet. For a few moments, he could pretend he was...

"Good morning, Matt."

He practically threw the book across the room in surprise. He'd been so absorbed in the novel that he hadn't noticed the bearded man setting up tables and slurping from his Raku coffee mug. "Morning, professor Fulton."

The man squinted at Matt's book, chuckled and shook his head.

Matt's classmates came in, setting up their sketchbooks and drawing chalks. The male model undressed, and the professor started the class on short sketches.

Matt flipped open his drawing pad and tried to keep up.

Sneakers tapped across the floor. Matt turned his head to look.

A girl came walking in. She muttered something to the teacher, took her supplies to the corner of the room and sat atop a large desk, sketching with a piece of graphite.

Much cuter than the model, Matt thought. Since his easel easel faced that direction, his attention drifted away from the subject matter of his picture.

Large rounded ears gave the girl a mouse-like appearance, her narrow face and large eyes adding to the effect. Her baggy black Tripp cargo pants and a dark long sleeved turtleneck gave her appearance a punk or Gothic quality of mystery that he found himself wanting to unravel.

Noticing her eyes, he pretended to flesh out the sketch on his paper. The corner of the girl's mouth lifted in a smirk as she returned to her sketching.

His eyes traveled her way again, to the design on her shirt, an homage to the classic Doctor Who television series. Tom Baker, a Dalek and K-9.

Amazing, he thought. We're both geeks! He glanced upwards at the young, dainty face.

Her greenish silver eyes met his through a pair of wire frame spectacles.

I think I'm in love!

Fulton's bearded face loomed over Matt's shoulder. "Looks like a good start, Matt. I think you could improve it if you made Greg's chin less rounded and move the cheekbones."

Matt glanced at his sketch. The picture had mutated into a quasi-feminine monstrosity. "Ugh!" He crumpled it up.

"Tsk, tsk. You won't learn anything that way." The man waddled back to his chair, sipping from his mug.

Matt started on a new sheet, gazing at the girl in between sketches. Their eyes met. It felt like the room had gotten very hot, and not because of the bad lighting rig they used on the model. He looked away, pretending to stare at something else. When he turned his gaze back to her again, he found her looking into his eyes.

Matt bashfully raised his hand, giving her a little wave.

She smiled, revealing a pair of long central incisors that hung from her uppers like a bunny rabbit. Matt grinned, felt his skin flush.

Class came to an end. "Friday's drawing assignment is a depiction of heaven," Fulton said. "I want you all to draw a picture of what you think heaven looks like. No stereotypical pictures of clouds or postcardy images of Montana, please."

As people packed up their art supplies and filed out the door, Matt struggled to find words to say to the girl. He trembled just thinking about striking up a conversation. She probably has a boyfriend already. I'll ask, and she'll just make me look like a moron and humiliate me. Matt took a deep breath. It's just no use. I'm a coward.

He grabbed his things, walked to the door, but froze instead of leaving, struggling with his anxiety.

He forced himself to resist the fear of rejection. His legs felt wobbly, like they almost couldn't support him, but he shuffled to the girl, poking her shoulder. "Uh, hey."

"Dusaq!" Her voice had a buoyant, elfin quality to it. "I mean, hi!"

He took one glance at her drawing and felt a pinch of jealousy. "That's great...You're a great artist!"

"Thanks!"

Well, at least she's talking to me, he thought, grinning sheepishly. "I...like your shirt."

"Thank you! You like Doctor Who?"

"Yeah. I...love it. I mean, the show." He smiled, nervously fumbling for words. So far, only the L word kept popping in.

A lapine grin appeared on the girl's face.

Matt's face reddened, his heart pounding. What do I say now?

The girl rolled her eyes.

I am such an idiot! Words came near Matt's lips, but he dared not utter them, for fear of looking like a fool. The girl put her things away. "Uh...what's your name? Mine's...Matt...Gannon. Matt Gannon, I mean."

She giggled softly.

"What's yours? I mean, what's your name?"

"Sarah Morris."

He stood in dumb silence. Think of something! he scolded himself.

Sarah stood up. "Sorry, gotta leave. See you Friday."

"Yeah. Friday."

The girl walked out the door.

Matt mentally kicked himself, obsessing about his failure. He looked outside the door, but she had already disappeared. The shy part of himself felt relieved.

Matt had been dully aware of Professor Fulton watching him, and the sipping sounds he'd made as he drank from his mug, but had blocked it out.

The professor let out a deep chortle. "Got a hot date Friday night?"

The flush of embarrassment, which had almost gone from Matt's cheeks, now flooded back in full force. "Uh, no."

"Gee, I'm sorry to hear that." Fulton took another swig of his tea. "Can't win `em all."

Matt scowled at himself in a mirror. You retard.

Matt had taken Logic class in order to avoid taking Philosophy, but mistakenly signed up for Logic 400, and everything proved to be way over his head. The professor's lame delivery style didn't help him understand the material any better.

Plus, he lacked focus. As he daydreamed, a stack of papers appeared without warning on his desk.

"This test consists of the materials we went over last week. You have fifteen minutes to complete it. You may not use the textbook. You may begin once you have received it."

"What?" Matt blinked, shaking himself out of his fantasy. He stared at his paper for a minute, wrote down his best guess, erased it.

Even if he had been more focused, he'd never taken Logic 101. 101 didn't have any open seats that semester. No one told him he couldn't take 400, but they should've.

He stared at the clock, the red Venetian blinds that had been pulled down over the windows, preventing him from looking outside. Professor Pratt, a fat old man, snored behind a wobbly table in one end of the tiny, cramped classroom. Only half his head poked out from under it. Matt squinted at the marker board, trying to decode secret answers from the half erased squiggles, then gave up.

A bony, sallow faced girl with horn-rimmed glasses hunched over a desk across from him, furiously scribbling answers on her exam. I bet she could do half the effort and still get an A.

He glared at the test paper, putting down guesses. He stared at his muddled answers until time ran out, turned the paper in.

Pratt called an end to the test. Students rose from their seats, zipped up backpacks, stuffed away books and papers, making a mass exodus out the door. Matt frowned at the herd, ashamed of himself for daydreaming so much. I guess it wouldn't have mattered anyway. This is too difficult. He marched to the teacher's desk.

"Do you need something?"

"Is there some way I can make up for my grade if I failed this test?"

"I don't have much in the way of extra credit," Pratt wheezed. "Just try harder on the next ones. It might be a good idea to get with other students and compare notes next time."

Matt shook his head. I tried that. I felt like a kindergartner who barely knows the alphabet trying to study for a Brit Lit test. "Never mind." He sighed. "Forget it." I guess I can audit if it gets worse.

He'd been broke last week, which made it difficult for him to buy the textbook required for the course. Not a great idea for someone struggling with the material.

The Gilland College bookstore rarely carried more required course material than the amount of students on the attendance roster, they overcharged for everything, and the selection of non-curricular materials on the main floor went well with the bland gray carpets and walls. Matt brought his textbooks to the checkout area, wondering if he could pay for them all.

Two lanes stood open, one with a line, the other with no customers and a very bored looking clerk. Matt stepped toward the open register, but hurried to the other when he spotted Sarah at the counter.

"I can help you over here, sir," the other clerk called.

Pretending not to hear, Matt stood in line, letting a few people ahead of him go instead. He moved up behind a bloated business student in a green shirt, sneaking glances around his shoulder.

Sarah, busy scanning the books of a girl in a hijab, didn't seem to notice him staring. Once or twice, her eyes flashed his way, but she didn't react.

Matt impatiently he watched Sarah scan, bag and process the customer's purchase, then the marketing books of the guy in front of him.

Matt smiled at Sarah, but she still didn't notice.

At last his turn came.

Sarah smiled. "You know, it would have been easier if you had gone to the other lane!"

"I know, but I kinda wanted to see you again."

"Aww! That's so sweet!"

He gave a bashful grin, forgetting why he came in the store.

She pointed to the stack of books. "Ready to buy those?"

"Huh?" His face turned red. "Oh? These?" he stammered. "Y-yes! Of course!"

As she scanned the bar code on the logic book, Matt fumbled for words.

He noticed a book on Isaiah tucked beside her register. And a bible scholar? It's too good to be true! he thought. Knowing my luck, she must have a boyfriend or something. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he made an attempt. "Is that your book?"

Sarah glanced at the computer, rattling off the total. "What?"

Matt blinked when he heard the amount. What a rip-off. But I really need this stuff. "I said, is that your book?"

"Oh?" She picked up her book. "This? I was just studying it. Check or debit?"

Noting the line behind him, Matt filled out a check. "So, what religion are you?"

She paused in thought, her chisel shaped teeth hanging over her lower lip. "Jedi Knight."

Matt rolled his eyes. "You can't seriously buy into that stuff! Making an obvious work of fiction into a religion?"

"Okay, so maybe not that, but it makes it easier to explain." She ran Matt's check through the auto-endorser.

"You're a Buddhist."

"No."

"What is it, then? What do you believe?"

"It's...complicated." She sighed in annoyance. "Look. I have my own religion, okay?"

"Like you're leading a cult?"

"No, like just having my own personal religious beliefs."

"You do believe in God, though, right?"

"Yeah. And he's not me or some impersonal thing."

"Do you believe in Jesus?"

A troubled look crossed her face. "I'm...not sure."

"You know who he is, right?"

"I'm familiar with the name. I know a few things."

"Like what?"

She got the facial expression of someone on a game show racking their brain for the correct answer. She stapled three identical advertisements to his receipt, out of distraction. "His...name is often used for an exclamation of surprise, his birthday is December 25, he's a role model...uh..."

Matt frowned. Typical American, he thought. "He's more than that. Listen, do you understand what you're reading?"

"A little. It has a commentary. But how can I understand it, unless someone guides me?"

If Matt needed a sign from God to motivate him to talk to her, the girl's accidental paraphrase of Acts 8:31 was it. "I could help with that."

She didn't reply, just handed him the bag.

Matt glanced at her hands. Not the vain type that spent hours painting her fingernails either. He liked that.

A guy behind him set his books on the counter, ready to check out. Ignoring him, Matt pointed to Sarah's turtleneck. "Isn't that a little hot for this time of year?"

"Yeah."

Matt laughed. "Then why not wear something with shorter sleeves?"

"I have a tattoo. Tattoos, actually. I got a butterfly, a dragon and a Rebel Alliance symbol. They're pretty cool."

Bare ears too. A tattoo, but no earrings. Maybe she's allergic to metal stuff? "Right. Dress code. I understand. Can I see them?"

"They're new. They're still healing."

"If you have bandages on, you can wear a t-shirt, right?"

"I guess you're right..."

"Anyways, I'd love to help you study Isaiah. Can we meet later?"

"Actually, I go on break in a few minutes..." She pointed to the back corner of the store. "Wait over there in the lounge."

Matt wandered into a little recess in between shelves of high priced books, seating himself in a cushioned yellow chair.

With the long lines at the register, it turned out to be more than a few minutes, not until he had completed an entire reading assignment and got halfway through another did she finally occupy a seat adjacent to his. "Sorry. Busy store."

He smiled at her.

With a slight smirk, Sarah opened her book on the little table in front of him, pointing to Isaiah 53, circled in red and covered with highlighter. "So...about this. Who are they referring to? It has some notes about Israel, but they don't make much sense in the overall context of the passage. It's too confusing."

Matt frowned. Not a bible. The author of her book didn't explain anything very well. "I'd love to help."

He read through the passage in great detail, explaining everything he understood.

Sarah became lost in thought.

"How much do you know about Christianity?"

She shrugged. "Some."

"I'm a Christian. Would you like to become a Christian?"

"I don't know. I don't know if your, uh, Jesus will accept me. I'm too different."

"Nonsense. Jesus accepts anyone who bows the knee to him."

"What if you can't bow the knee?"

"What do you mean, can't?"

"This Jesus guy...did he die for aliens, too?"

Matt stared at the creatures on her shirt. "Depends on what you consider an alien. I mean, the word `alien' basically means `foreigner'..."

"Space aliens."

"Heh, heh. I thought that's what you meant." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You might as well ask if he died for leprechauns."

"You...don't believe in aliens?"

"Not really. People only believe in that stuff because it supports the idea of the big bang. You know, `Life on earth happened by random chance,' so billions of other planets also have human-like creatures evolved by random chance.'"

"Why does it have to mean that? Who says that it has to mean that there is no creator? Couldn't God create life on other planets if he wanted to?"

"I suppose. But why would God create something that challenges our faith like that?"

"Why would God allow dinosaur fossils to exist? Or..." The next part made Matt blush. "The animal-like way human beings sexually reproduce?"

"I don't know," Matt stammered. "The problem I see with the idea of aliens is that it presupposes evolution or New Age religious beliefs. We really have no proof that they exist anyway." He pointed to the turtleneck. "It's awesome that you like that show, by the way. I've seen just about every episode."

"Thanks. But what if God made people on other planets? What then?"

"Would man be truly a unique creature? Would the alien reflect the image of God? If so, how? Also, would aliens have sin?"

"So the image of God is inferred by looking upon his unique intelligent creation, then?"

"More or less. He did take the form of a dove and other stuff, but you've got to be careful not to read too much into that."

"What if the aliens are not made completely in God's image? Certainly, if would be flattering if they were, and it would be a standard of beauty, for sure, but can't other creations, like the swan or the peacock or the horse also be beautiful?"

"Hmmm. I always imagined that the people of most religions would prefer if their god looked like them. I guess, really, if an alien can accept a God that looks different than they, maybe aliens can have a place in theology."

"You think a space alien would need Jesus, that is, if space aliens existed?"

"Depends on if they sin or not. That has little relation to you, and your situation, I mean, because I know you're human."

"But what if I'm not?...Not human?"

Matt shook his head in frustration, certain this was a game, insinuating that she was a space alien and everything. "I don't know. What if?"

"Would I need Jesus then?...If I were an alien?"

He frowned. This is hopeless, he thought. She's just toying with me, if she isn't insane. I should quit here, while I'm ahead. But his heart disagreed. Why does she have to be so cute? "Look, I really want to help you, but I can't if you keep telling me you're a space alien."

Sarah sighed. "I guess you're right. But I'll need some time to think about this."

"I will definitely give this some more thought." She breathed on the back of her hand, pressed it against his cheek.

"What was that?"

"A gesture of thanks."

Matt grimaced. "On what planet?"

"Pathilon."

He laughed. "Ohkayy!...So when will your tattoo be healed?"

"Um...Probably...a month from now. Why?"

"Just wondering."

Silence.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Sarah smiled. "No."

"Good. Neither do I."

She laughed.

"Want to go out sometime?"

"I'd like that. In fact, there's a scifi convention coming up in two weeks. You wanna go to it?"

"Really? I didn't know they had one here." He paused. "Um, I've never been to a convention before. I have a monstrous collection of scifi stuff, but I haven't. I'm afraid of what kind of weirdos I'd meet there. I'm also shy and..." He frowned. "I don't know."

She smiled. "They're quirky people, but they're not dangerous. You should at least give it a try."

Matt stared. I guess if they're weird like you... "All right."

Sarah gave him her number. "Call me Friday."

"I definitely will." He glanced at his watch. "This sucks, but I gotta get to work."

"Where do you work?"

"Farm Fresh. It's in Westport. `Do you want paper or plastic?'"

"Really? How do you pay for school?"

"Took out a loan. My folks help out some. So...two weeks before the convention. What do you want to do before then?"

"Well, there is an independent film playing at the art house downtown. We could go see that..."

"Sounds great!"

He got up to leave.

"Start thinking about a costume for the convention. I love cosplay."

Matt reddened, suddenly excited and scared. "I don't know if I want to go that crazy, but I'll think about it...Think about what I told you, and who you are."

She nodded. "See you in art class, unless we meet before then."

"All right. I'll be praying for you."

Sarah raised her hand, making the Jewish peace sign. "Live long and prosper."

Matt grinned, mirroring the gesture. "Shalom."

He had an uneventful evening at work, just stocking the dairy cooler all night. A manager chewed him out for taking a break because the man thought Matt had already taken one, but that was about it.

He returned home to find a long rambling message from his biological mother on the voicemail, something about karma and Judaism. She never lived it when he converted.

Matt's apartment had a split personality. One part of the dwelling had its all available space cluttered with scifi paraphernalia, and, bizarrely enough, Christian religious materials, at seeming odds with the overall content of the decor. Posters for scifi shows plastered the walls, predominately Doctor Who and Star Wars.

Sporting and athletics bric-a-brac occupied the other half of the shared living space, the religious books, movies, bulletins and bible study aids presenting the only common ground.

Keith, the owner of this portion of the dwelling, sat in an easy chair, idly staring at a football game on TV. Big guy with the bulk of a football player, minus the muscles. Fat face, wide arms, blonde hair in a crew cut, oversized Steelers t-shirt.

The phone rang. Keith checked the caller ID. "It's for you."

Matt looked at the number and scowled. "Brenda."

He just let it ring.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Last time she just read me my horoscope and told me I'd reincarnate as a slug because I'd abandoned my Jewish heritage."

Keith frowned. "Did you tell her Christ's disciples were Jewish?"

"She thinks that's a myth Gentiles made up."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Oh boy."

Matt picked up the receiver, put it back down to disconnect the call.

Matt's Sociology teacher, Ms. Wedgewood, always acted a little odd. In summer-like days, such as this particular morning, the blonde woman wore a long dress with sleeves and a high collar that covered every inch of her neck. And then she had such odd lessons, even for Sociology.

Of course, it could have been part of the subject matter. Her lecture that morning: The meaning of gender specific clothing, how certain cultures did not view a man wearing dress-like apparel as homosexual, the Greek dance costume or the Scottish kilt, among others, posing the question about where the attitude shift came from. No explanation about her outfit, though.

Speech class followed this. His turn hadn't come to give a presentation yet, and he didn't want to volunteer.

After school, he studied in his apartment for awhile, tried to call Sarah, but she didn't answer the phone.

Work that night was mainly busy work and cash register duty, watching the sunset out the plate glass windows as he waited for tiny amounts of customers to come to the register.

On Friday, he arrived at Drawing class early, but saw no sign of Sarah. The Heaven assignments had been arranged in rows, ranging from the uninspired to the ambitious, reflecting a variety of religions and temperaments. A black and white city with a wall around it. A big question mark. A color picture of two people standing in Disneyland with Mickey Mouse and other Disney characters, and an 18X24 fantasy landscape full of colorful creatures and buildings done in intricate paintbrush strokes. Matt had drawn a theme park full of spaceships and castles and people in outfits that combined features of space uniforms and robes.

Fulton commented on the various pictures, discussing subject matter and drawing mechanics, waxing philosophical about it. Sarah entered class halfway through the spiel, clad in a red turtleneck and the usual Tripp pants. Fulton made a joke about her lateness, then resumed the critique. Matt smiled and waved to her.

After sharing some witty observations about the walled city, the Enchanted Kingdom, and a few others, the professor stopped in front of Matt's drawing. "Spaceships, and people in Starfleet uniforms. So...heaven is like an endless Trekkie convention!" He gave a Spock-like eyebrow wiggle. "Fascinating."

A few reviews later, he came to the painting. "Dang!...It's...a bunch of hairy creatures, monkeys, perhaps, and...they're flying around in trees...with people...and in the negative space, it looks like they're...fondling each other, or hugging...Who did this?"

Sarah grimaced. "Me. They're hugging, not fondling."

"And what is this we're looking at? Obviously, it's heaven, but would you care to explain?"

"I hope that when we get to heaven, humans and angels won't be the only intelligent lifeforms there."

"So they're space aliens," Fulton laughed. "Maybe they'll go over to Matt's drawing and hang out with all the people in Star Trek uniforms!"

Matt's face reddened.

"My only complaint is that this is a painting and this is a drawing class. But still, it's marvelous." Fulton sipped his tea. "See you next class."

As the others packed up their belongings, Matt tapped Sarah on the shoulder. "Hey...I really liked your painting. I don't know if aliens would really exist in heaven, but it's a neat idea."

"Thanks! Yours was nice, too."

Matt gestured to her outfit. "You know what happens to people in red shirts, don't you?"

She laughed.

He squinted. "Do you own a cat?"

"Why?"

"Nothing, it's just...you got cat hair or something stuck to your shirt..."

"I do?" she blinked, picking at her sleeve. "Oh, right. That's from my dog...Smurfette. No outfit is complete without dog hair."

"What kind of dog is it?"

"Pomeranian. And no, it's not blue."

"That's cool. You think you could bring it to school sometime?"

Sarah shook her head. "I live very far away. Smurfette would make a mess in the car." She let out a heavy sigh.

"What? Did I offend you?"

"No."

"What is it?"

"Um..." She led him to the corner of the room.

"What's the matter?"

"Do you think he's right? About the aliens going over to your, I mean, being in heaven?"

"Heaven is supposed to be an awesome place. I think, for it to be really great, He'd have to put in all sorts of fantastic creatures in it. After all, God can make anything He wants."

"That doesn't mean he'll make everything you or I want."

"I know, but...what if He makes an exception? It's supposed to be a place of great happiness and fulfillment. I don't think I'd be as happy if we go there and just see more of the same stuff that humans see every day, even though the endless joy and fulfillment is a big plus."

"But couldn't God make you happy with what's there, and what He already created? Even if there were no aliens up there?"

"I suppose you're right. But it would be disappointing if you went to heaven and found that, what, with all the billion stars and planets out there, ours is the only one that contains life."

She bit her lip with her buckteeth, appearing to be fighting down a grin.

"I mean, sure, maybe the life could be angelic, or maybe God's body is that big, or maybe heaven is literally `the heavens,' so when we die we go hang out on other planets, but...you think there'd be ample room for aliens up there."

Fulton stepped in the doorway. "Having a theological debate over there?"

"Um..." Matt stammered.

"Well, sorta."

Fulton snorted and laughed. "That's okay. I don't want to know." He walked back out.

Sarah smiled. "I hope you're right about the aliens."

"I guess I need to get to class pretty soon."

"Wait." Sarah handed him her painting. "Here. This is for you."

He stared at her in surprise. "You made this for me?"

"Uh, sorta. Anyways, you can have it."

"Wow! Thanks!" He offered his, which she gladly took.

"Well, I gotta get to class." Matt bumped into an easel as he backed away from her. He turned, looking bashful. "I'll call you when I get home."

"Okay," she giggled. "I'll be off work at four."

Matt rushed to Logic with Sarah's artwork in hand, slipping into one of the desks.

He got compliments on the picture as he settled into his desk.

Mr. Pratt hobbled his way in, eased into his chair like a man twice his age, and handed a pile of papers to the brown nosing student with the horn-rims. She distributed them as he wrote the grading scale and the class grading statistics on the marker board. The man sat back down, looking like he'd been running a marathon. "Most of you...did well on this test, but a few of you...need to spend more time studying."

Matt frowned at his paper. Ten points. Out of 900. The statistics implied he was the only one in class with an F. This is pathetic. Now more than ever, he wondered why the registration office hadn't stopped him from jumping into 400 level. He didn't know if he could afford to drop it, though.

Matt sighed, barely listening to Pratt lecturing about the test answers. He drove back to his apartment, feeling drained.

Hanging the painting made him feel a little better. The imagery inspired him in ways that his Chewbacca poster hadn't.

"Hey, what's that?" Keith asked.

"Just something a friend gave me."

Keith whistled. "He's a good artist."

"She's a good artist," Matt corrected.

"Oh! It's from your girlfriend! So what's it supposed to be?"

"A picture of heaven."

"Really? So what are those fuzzy things? Angels?"

"I don't know. I guess they're space aliens."

"Space aliens? In heaven? I don't know about that. You know what aliens are, right?"

Matt shrugged.

"They're demons. You know, like in the days of Noah. Nephilim. They mated with humans so God sent a flood to wipe them out."

"But there are angels in heaven, right?"

"Uh, right. But I don't think a good angel would be fuzzy with a tail. That guy to the left looks more like Satan."

"I don't know. I thought the critters looked kind of cute."

"Cute? Satan often puts a cute disguise to deceive people."

"So you're saying that good things cannot be furry?"

"Well, I don't know. Animals are okay. But those things are more like hairy beast men. The way the devil looks."

"I read that the devil is an angel of light, so he'd look like a beautiful human or something, not like some hairy goat man. Plus, see any horns?"

"You got a point there. No horns. But the hair on that one guy looks sort of horn-like."

"Well I don't think this is an evil picture at all. I think it's nice."

"Hey, I was just saying..."

Matt shook his head. "Whatever. It's just fantasy anyway."

He did his homework over a dinner of tuna rice casserole.

"Are you eating that crap again?" Keith asked.

Matt shrugged. "I got loans to pay."

He sat on a bedspread patterned with starships and space runes, gazing at his phone with nervousness. He figured he would have to wait for Sarah to get off work, didn't want to seem desperate by leaving a message, so he hesitated. Instead, he laid back, gazing at the painting as he waited.

He rolled over, fretting about his school work, his informative speech due on Tuesday, his Logic class...

It got later. He stared at the phone, nervous tingly sensations rising in his stomach.

Before he could dial, his roommate picked up a phone on the other side of the apartment, talking to one of his many friends. They unfortunately shared the same LAN line. Matt could only sigh and sit on a nearby couch, waiting for Keith to get done.

Matt turned on the TV, watching a new fantasy adventure show they had on cable.

Keith changed the channel to sports.

Matt scowled. "Hey!"

"It's a rerun," Keith muttered as he set down the remote. "I saw it on the box."

Matt shot Keith a frustrated expression, but Keith just smiled and chatted away to his pal about sports.

He tapped the phone with his fingers, casting Keith an irritated glare.

Keith laughed. "Need to call someone?"

Matt nodded.

"Hold on."

Matt pretended to be reading one of the obscure comic books he'd gotten online.

"I think Matt wants to use the phone," Keith snickered to his friend. "I'll have to let you go...uh-huh."

Matt picked up his phone, listened to the dial tone, and after facing a bout with anxiety, hung up again. He sighed, staring at the receiver.

Matt glanced at the clock. 4:30. He picked up the phone. Here goes nothing.

The phone rang several times with no reply. He hung up.

Keith chortled. "Change your mind, huh?"

"Uh..." Matt shrugged, pretending he wasn't too shy to call a girl on the phone.

"Whatever." Keith took the opportunity to call his own girlfriend.

Matt absently stared at a baseball game, wondering how long the call would take.

He bore it for a few minutes, then decided enough to be enough.

He tapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Again? You were just on it!"

"She wasn't there last time."

"She?" Keith laughed. He turned his head aside. "Ah, listen, sweetie. Matt wants to use the phone. Yeah, I know, he should get his own phone. Look, sorry, I'll have to call you back."

Matt tried to keep his foot from tapping.

"Yeah, I love you too." Keith hung up. "So you got a girlfriend, huh?"

"Sorta, kinda."

"Sorta's good!" his roommate gave him a high-five. "I was beginning to worry about you. Go ahead, call your girlfriend!"

It took Matt a number of minutes to get the courage to dial the girl's number.

Sarah giggled at his stammering. She quickly gave him the address to the art house.

"You want me to come by and pick you up?"

"Yok. I mean, no. That's okay. My house is a mess right now. I'm sure you know how that is..."

Matt smirked as he glanced at the piles of laundry and paperwork on his floor. "I...might understand."

They met at a small independent theater. As an amateur film, the performances proved substandard, and the actors overcompensated by cussing too much, but the science fiction angle was interesting.

Afterwards, Matt walked Sarah outside, enjoying the cool night air as they seated themselves on a patch of grass on a parking island, watching cars zoom by in front of the lot.

"So," Sarah muttered. "What did you think?"

Matt gave an indifferent shrug. "Meh.'

She chuckled. "That's kinda how I felt."

He glanced at her shirt. "You got hair on you again."

"Oh! That Noodles!"

"Noodles? What happened to Smurfette?"

The girl looked flustered. "Um, well, I got two dogs. Noodles is a Cairn Terrier."

Matt laughed. "Maybe you could use a lint roller or drier sheets or something."

"I tried that. It doesn't get everything...You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you said about Jesus. I still don't know if I want to commit my soul to your religion yet, but I've been seriously considering it. I'd like to know more. Could you take me to visit your temple or religious center sometime?"

He stared. "Um...sure. In fact, if you want to come to my church this Sunday, you're more than welcome to."

"That sounds wonderful. "I'd love to visit your `church.' When do your ceremonies begin?"

Matt rolled his eyes, thinking this alien act had been taken too far. "Eight and ten thirty, and there's a bible study before the second service. Which one do you want to go to?"

"I think I should like to see all of them." Then she stammered, "Ten thirty. No, nine so we can have bible study, right?"

Matt nodded.

"Okay, then. I'll call you Sunday morning...around eight or something. Sound good?"

"Guep. That would be excellent." She leaned really close, as if about to hug or kiss him, but stopped herself. "Eyap mez."

"What?"

"I said good night."

"Oh. Good night."

She breathed on her hand, touched three fingers to his cheek.

Matt frowned in puzzlement. "So they...do that...on Pathilon. Was that in a book you read or something?"

"Does it matter? Maybe this is just how I express my affection."

He blushed. "Okay...What about this strange language you keep speaking? Is that like Klingon or something?"

"No. It's Wava." She climbed into a white Honda sedan. "Call me Sunday so we can caravan to church," she said through the open window.

"Wait, what about tomorrow?"

Sarah shook her head. "Sorry, Matt. I'm going to be running errands all day."

"All right. Sunday it is. Hey, uh, what exactly is Wava?"

Instead of answering, Sarah drove off.

Sunday morning, Sarah awoke him with a phone call, asking him for directions to the church. When he told her, she got confused. "Maybe you should drive." She told him how to get to her house.

"Okay. Got it."

"Do you have to wear any special head coverings?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not really. Unless you want to. Some Messianic Jews and Arabic Christians might do that, but it's not required."

"I can't wait to see the place!"

Matt told Keith to meet him at church, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be. Lacking a GPS, or his own phone, Matt missed an exit because of semis and the glare from the sun rising over the highway, got turned on the wrong exit twice, wandering aimlessly in a strange neighborhood for over ten minutes before finding his way back to the freeway.

He drove down another exit, getting turned around again. As was his custom, when he got lost, he sped faster, to find out what lay past the next intersection more quickly. The answer: More streets he couldn't recognize.

Only by a minor miracle did he find a gas station attendant that knew their way around the city. At last he entered the correct neighborhood, a suburb filled with identical looking white houses.

He parked in front of one of them, staring at a yard full of discarded Barbie paraphernalia. She could be anywhere.

His hastily scrawled directions offered little help. He had the numbers written down, but the road didn't travel in a straight line, and he soon found himself merging onto another road entirely.

A glance at the clock told him he'd never make it to church.

Refusing to cry and go home in despair, he turned up a street and around a steep hill.

He arrived at a small, plain split level house, nearly identical to at least five other homes on the block. No sidewalk, two floors, a garage, brick flower box, vinyl siding, an awning and a small concrete stoop serving as the front porch. A familiar figure in baggy clothing sat on the stoop with something like a cel phone pressed to her head. She stood up, waving at him.

The moment he parked, and she ran to the passenger door. "Matt! Where were you?"

"Sorry. I couldn't find the house. Everything looks the same around here."

"I told you the address."

Matt shrugged. "Let's just say I'm directionally challenged."

"You don't have a GPS?"

He shook his head.

"I'm ready. Should we go?"

Matt sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry. By the time we get there, we'll miss the whole thing."

"Oh." She looked worried. "You think it will be okay?"

"It'll be fine. We'll go next week."

"Since you're here anyway, how about we go inside and have another bible study?"

"Uh..." Matt took a deep breath, worried that something immoral might happen when they were alone. "I don't know..."

"...To make up for church? I really want to learn more about your religion."

Seems innocent enough, he thought. Maybe this is God's way of telling me I'm a perv. "Okay." He glanced at her shirt. "So, how are Smurfette and Noodles doing?"

"Oh?" She acted like she'd never heard of them. "Oh. Them. They're fine."

Sarah's house seemed more like squatter territory than a home. Unfinished walls, bare floors, tattered hotel furniture, a battered puke green sofa with a wide rip in the center cushion, and a threadbare couch that looked like it should have been left on the curb. A makeshift coffee table made from big wooden construction spools and a giant slab of particle board stood in the center.

Matt frowned as he settled into a couch. It's this property and all those college loans, he thought. She must be up to her eyeballs in debt! "Did you...just move here?"

"Guep. I just moved."

He stared at the dusty hardwood floor, devoid of hair, scratch marks, toys or other signs of animal life. "Where are your dogs?"

"Oh? Well...they died..."

Matt's eye twitched as he realized she may have been lying to him. "I'm...sorry to hear that."

"It's okay." Her tone sounded indifferent. "They were getting old. Matt, I've been wondering. Do you live on campus, or do you have a house somewhere?"

Mental note, Matt thought disapprovingly. Does not like pets. "I live in Stonehill Apartments. Just a few blocks away from campus. Why? Planning on dropping in?"

"I might." She smiled, handing him a bible. "So..."

Her bible had been covered in hundreds of scrawled, incomprehensible symbols. "Do I have to ask?"

"Those are just notes. I've been reading the bible a lot since you taught me that stuff. There's a lot I don't understand, but I've been studying quite a few hours, trying to."

"So you've been taking notes...in...Wava, is it?"

She nodded.

"And...Wava is what? Is it...what, is that like Klingon or Elvish or something?"

She nodded again. "It's exactly like that."

"Oh." He winced. "Well, as long as you can understand them, I guess?"

"Would you like to understand them?"

"I guess."

Sarah gave him a booklet of stapled paper. "Here. This is a Wava dictionary."

Matt stared at the pages.

"You can have it."

"Uh..." He flipped to the word tab. "Umua."

She grinned, gave him a nod. "Abukos."

Matt returned his attention to the bible. "I think I see question marks."

"Everything is confusing. I hear stuff on the radio and TV, but I'm still confused. Start in Genesis?"

He read and explained Genesis 1-3 to her.

"So," Sarah said after they finished. "What do you do at church?"

Matt groaned in annoyance at her games. "We read bible passages, pray, sing, have communion."

"Communion? What's that?"

He scowled. "Hee hee. If you're pretending to be ignorant to be cute, it's not funny."

"No, I'm serious. Tell me what communion is."

"You know. It's the Lord's supper."

"But I don't know. Could you explain it to me?"

"You didn't read that part of the bible?"

"No."

Matt explained it. "I can't believe you didn't know that."

"It's true." Her face reddened. "I didn't. Thanks...I want to hear a church song. Could you sing one for me, please?"

"Well, all right." After giving it some thought, he cleared his throat and sang Earth and All Stars. "I like that song because it's funny."

"Me too. `Loud boiling test tubes.'"

"Can we have communion?"

"I...don't think that's a good idea. I'm not an ordained minister, I'm not sure you're a believer. So if I gave you communion, it would be disrespectful to Jesus."

"But if I were a believer, would you be able to give me communion then?"

He stared. "You changing your mind now?"

Sarah shook her head. "Just asking."

"Well, maybe if I were at some kind of camp or desert island, I'd think about it. I'm not a pastor, I'm not even seminary trained. Even though the disciples gave communion, I'd still feel weird. Plus, I don't think you have any bread and wine handy. Or even grape juice, for that matter."

"Wine, bread, grape juice..." she muttered, jotting something down on a notepad.

Matt just shook his head, thinking, Unbelievable! Is she serious?

Where did she come from? Really?

"So this was kind of like church?"

"Sort of. Being with other people is important. It's kind of like this, except better."

"Thanks. That was nice."

What have you been doing all this time? he thought. Living under a rock? "Can I have something to drink?"

"Is water okay?"

Matt's heart sank as he imagined all the possible hardships this girl could have gone through. You poor thing, he thought. Can't even afford drinks!

Sarah led him to a barren kitchen lacking even a wall clock. It held a stove, cabinets and a fridge, not much else, the counters, littered with corn flakes and crumbs. She offered him an ugly green goblet. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

He took a few swigs of sink water, then poured it out. It tasted like something from a bad well. He set the glass down, staring through a dirty sliding glass door at a big swimming pool with a tarp over it. A massive winch, with steel cable and hooks, had been attached to one side of it. "I didn't know you had a pool. I should have brought swimming trunks."

"It's unfinished. You can't swim in it yet."

"Oh. What's the machine for?"

"What machine?"

"That...thing with the cable."

"Oh. That's...for overweight disabled swimmers. The last person who lived here was pretty heavy."

I guess she threw away the chair. "They must have been really big." Still thirsty, Matt forced down more bad tasting water, watching with disgust as a large brown roach scuttled down the cracking plaster walls, jiggling its feelers.

Sarah popped it into her mouth. "Mmph."

Matt blanched. "Why did you just eat that roach?"

"Because they taste good."

Matt threw the refrigerator open. The light was off, the interior warm as a cabinet, nothing on the shelves but an old bottle of ketchup. "You know, I can buy you some food. You don't have to eat bugs all the time. In fact, you wanna go out to eat?"

She nodded. "I guess we could. But you don't understand. I have money. I just like the way cockroaches taste."

"That's kinda weird."

"Not as weird as you might think."

"True, it might be acceptable in, say, small third world nations, but we're in America. Could you please not eat roaches? At least when I'm not around?"

"Would you tell a Korean not to eat kimchee?"

Matt scowled. "No, but you're eating roaches. Seriously, cockroaches crawl around in trash cans and sewers and other bad places. Some even have pesticides on them."

"My body has special enzymes that protect me from illness."

"So does mine, but you don't see me chowing down on roaches."

Sarah looked upset. "Please. Let's not ruin our friendship fighting over this."

Matt laughed. "We're not fighting. All I'm saying is you need to quit this unsafe and disgusting habit because I care about you and I don't want to see you get sick, or hurt, or poison yourself."

"Fine. From now on, I'll wash and boil them first."

Matt smacked his head. It's a start. "Good enough."

Sarah grabbed a beer from a cabinet, cracked it open, and took a huge gulp.

We can't all be teetotalers, I suppose. "Are...you a drinker?"

"Sometimes I drink."

"How much?"

"I can drink ten beers a night if I want to. Why?"

That explains a lot! Matt thought. "That's way too much." He snatched the beer out of her hands, dumping it down the sink.

"Hey!"

"It's for your own good." I think I've just destroyed this relationship, but it's for the best.

"It's bad for you?"

He nodded. "It gives you liver problems, you lose brain cells, you can choke on your own vomit..."

"Goodness! You were right to pour that out!"

"Tell me, why do you drink so much?"

"It gives me a little pep. I get a little buzz that keeps me awake and alert. Sometimes when I'm driving, and am having trouble staying awake, I'll drink some."

"What? No! You'll wrap your car around a tree! You'll go to jail! You'll die!"

"I will?"

He shook her. "No more booze! No drinking and driving! You'll get locked up if you don't kill someone first. Drink some coffee or something. Lay off the beer!"

Sarah nodded. "That is very wise. Coffee..." A troubled look crossed her face, then passed like the sun dispelling a rain cloud.

"You're...not mad?"

"Should I be?"

"Um...no?"

"Thanks."

"Let's...go out. I'll drive."

"You sure? You don't seem to know your directions very well."

"Where do you want to go to?"

"What's close?"

"I know a place up the road. Route Z Cafe. Their food isn't bad."

"They don't serve roaches, do they?"

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Yok."

"That's exactly what I said when I saw you eat one."

She didn't seem to get the joke. "You can take my car. I'd hate to see you use up more gas."

Matt thought about her pitiful dwelling, and the lack of food. "You sure? You seem kind of...broke!"

"C'mon, Matt! This place may look...un-lived in, but that doesn't mean I'm poor!"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you say so!"

Debris filled Sarah's car, scifi books, CD's, audiobooks in just about every genre, texts on history and several non-Christian religions. She had to move things around to free up the passenger seat, and had to shift her feet carefully to avoid breaking things. Once situated, Matt followed her directions, taking the car down a side street, through a country road lined with fields full of cows and ripening corn, then around a corner, rumbling into a dusty gravel lot of a place resembling a truck stop.

A country food restaurant, frequented by aging farm boys, where you could still smoke while you ate.

I sure hope that roach thing is just a geek trick, Matt thought as he looked over the menu."What would you recommend, Sarah?"

"People order the fried chicken meal a lot."

"But what do you normally get?"

"It's not on the menu. It's a special thing they give me because I ask."

"Are you ready to order, or will you be needing a minute?" asked a middle aged waitress with missing teeth.

Sarah grinned. "I'll have the usual."

The waitress rolled her eyes, scribbling down the order.

"The same."

The lady's eyelids twitched, corners of her mouth downturned in disgust. "You don't want that, hon. Trust me. Try the chicken fried steak or the pork chops. They're both super."

"Fine. I'll have the chicken fried steak."

The waitress left.

Sarah leaned over the table, gazing into his eyes. "Tell me about your family."

"Not much to say. I got disowned after I became a messianic Jew. Mom and Stepdad said I could only come back if I gave up my faith."

"Nala. That's terrible."

"It's part of being a Christian." He stared at the table. "My biological mother is a regular motor mouth." His gaze shifted to her eyes. "She has an answer to everything, herbal cures to everything from pests to colds. Refuses to take any medicine that isn't `Grown from the ground.' But she doesn't know Jesus, and she thinks that people reincarnate." He frowned, poking at his silverware. "And my step dad, he used to chain me to the water heater in the dirt basement."

Sarah shook her head. "That's messed up."

"But I did get adopted. My other parents, Dan and Camille, are nice Christians. Dan is an architect, Camille is a nurse. How about you?"

She didn't answer.

The waitress came out with a plate piled high with nothing but breaded mushrooms and parsley.

"You're going to get sick on that, you know? Why so much parsley?"

"I like parsley a lot." Placing her hands back to back, she hooked her pinky fingers together, touched her ring fingers to her thumbs, and spread her middle and index fingers in the air, her mouth silently forming syllables that didn't seem to be English.

Matt stared at her. "What are you doing?"

She stopped. "Praying."

"Oh! Sorry!"

Done praying, she opened her eyes, stuck a forkful in her mouth, not saying a word to him between bites.

"Your parents. What do they do?"

"My father is an advertising executive." She poked at another parsley sprig. "And my mother...is a fashion designer."

Matt bobbed his head. "They must be very wealthy. Is that how you got your house?"

The forkful of parsley stopped at her mouth. She looked troubled. "They...bought the house. And my car."

"That's nice of them."

"They are nice. But my mom can be crazy sometimes. One time I brought a boyfriend into the...house, and mother grabbed him by the ear and dragged him right out!"

Matt laughed.

The waitress brought out a pork chop dinner by mistake.

"He's Jewish," said Sarah.

The woman put her hands on her hips. "Food isn't racist. You just eat it, hon'. Promise nobody spit in it."

Matt waved indifferently. "It's fine. I'm Christian. How did you know about that anyway?"

"I'm not ignorant about everything."

They ate in silence for awhile. "So what does your father advertise?"

"Uh..." Sarah waved the waitress down before she left for the kitchen. "Could I get some more parsley, please?"

"Sure thing, dear." The waitress mosied off.

"My dad..." Sarah said. "Invented Snuggle the fabric softener bear."

Matt chuckled. "My condolences."

"Matt, what are your hopes for the future?"

"Goodness! Really getting in-depth here!...Like a career? Well...As a kid, I thought it would be cool to be an astronaut and actually go into outer space. But that's really hard, and I'm terrified of heights, so I'm studying to be a graphic designer. How about you?"

"I just want to learn more about...different cultures and their religions. It's fascinating."

"Well, that sounds like an attainable goal..."

They finished eating, returning to the house.

Inside, Sarah took a seat in a battered sofa. Matt noticed this, awkwardly settling into the curb furniture across from her. They gazed at each other.

Sarah smiled, settled into the cushion next to him. "Nervous around girls?"

Matt squirmed. "A little."

She chuckled. "I think it's a lot."

"Okay, so it is. Just like you're nervous about showing me your tattoos."

"Let's listen to the radio." Sarah plugged in a beat up old thing in the corner, and the soft rock channel came on. "Want to dance?"

"I dunno. I'm a lousy dancer."

"That's okay. So am I."

"I don't even like this song."

"C'mon, it'll be fun!"

Laughing, Matt got up, and they slow danced their way around the living room, frequently stepping on each other's toes in the process.

After dancing badly for several minutes, Matt broke away from her. "How about we do something else?"

"Want to go to the store with me?"

Matt had been hoping for something a little more romantic, but hadn't been that clever himself. "...Okay."

He drove her to a small grocery store, following her down the aisles as she picked up eggs, fruit, bread and other items.

They rolled the cart down the school supply aisle.

"So...you don't have any other plans, do you?"

Sarah shook her head. "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno." He took a deep breath. "Want to go to the movies or something?"

"Nah." She stuffed two large boxes of crayons into the basket.

"What's all that for?"

"I'm melting them down into candles."

"You could get that kind of stuff at a thrift store for a lot less money."

Sarah grimaced in disgust. "They're so...gritty. And they're used."

"It's not like you're eating them."

She snorted and bit her lip. "Still...the new ones are...nicer." She walked to the canning section, picking up a block of paraffin.

"Starting a new hobby?"

"Um, I guess so."

Noticing that a Coke display advertised a discount for a local amusement park, Matt asked, "Hey, want to go to Adventure Land?"

"What's that?"

He showed her a poster.

"Sure! I'd love to go!"

They returned to the house with their groceries and theme park coupons, loaded the food into the empty fridge.

"There's still a lot of room in there," Matt joked as he plugged the power cable back in. "Maybe you should have bought more!"

"Funny." She gave him a playful jab. "Should we go?"

They drove to a place filled with roller coasters, marked by a water tower painted to look like a rainbow hot air balloon.

They waited in line for the ticket booth in the sweltering heat. Matt stared at Sarah, wondering when she'd remove her turtleneck.

She dug her soda can out of her purse, downing it all in one swallow. Matt gawked at her.

"What."

He didn't say anything, just showed the can (with its attached coupon) to the attendant.

They bought tickets, strolling through a quaint village-like area decorated with flowery shrubs and garishly painted shops. The park, inspired by Around the World in Eighty Days, had been built with a `small world' theme, their current location being the old west.

"What do you want to do first?"

"I dunno." Sarah staggered sideways as if drunk. "I feel...funny."

"Really? Maybe you have heat exhaustion. It's sort of hot. Standing in line in that outfit probably didn't help. You should rest."

They sat down on a bench near a fountain.

Sarah giggled and leaned on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. "I'm an alien."

"Uh huh. You've told me that, but I still don't believe it."

"No joke. I'm a real alien. From outer space."

Matt chuckled and shook his head. "You know who you just reminded me of just then? Amy South. She was in the drama department at my school. She liked pretending she was an alien, too."

"I'm not pretending, Matt."

"Sure you aren't. Let me guess. You've got purple skin, tentacles, and your butt glows in the dark."

Sarah stared at him for a moment, shook her head, then nodded. "I'm not pretending. I'm telling you the honest truth, Matt." She snorted. "Tentacles!"

"Right. You probably have heat exhaustion. You probably got dehydrated drinking that pop, too. Let's go get some water, and maybe go to a few shops or something so you can get cooled off." He stared into the distance, watching a roller coaster do a loop-de-loop. "I know. We can go on the Pharaoh's Fury. That'll cool you off."

"I am an Abreya, from planet Pathilon."

"Oh? Role-playing, is it? Let me get my dungeon dice."

"Seriously, Matt! I'm an Abreya!"

"Is that like a donkey?"

She stared.

"You know, like I'm-a-braying?"

She stood up, pointing to a tall wooden coaster. "Let's go on the Falcor!"

Matt paled. "The...Falcor? You're kidding, right? That thing's at least ten stories tall!"

"Actually, the ad on the box said 430 feet." She poked Matt earlobe. "If you're that much of a frightened Wusu, you can sit out front while I go on the ride."

Matt took a deep breath. "Oh all right."

"Don't make it sound like it some kind of torture to go with me." She winked, grabbing his hand. "Let's go!"

Noticing an unsteady gait to Sarah's steps as she led him down the walkway, he frowned in concern. "Are you really all right?"

Sarah nodded. "Bright eyed and bushy tailed." She marched further down the stretch of blacktop, then stopped. "Where is the Falcor?"

He really didn't want to tell her, but he checked a map display anyway. "It's in Asia Zone...back near the entrance."

The two crossed the main square, to an area filled with pagodas, torii, and Asian themed rides.

Sarah gazed at Matt, broke into a hysterical fit of laughter.

He stopped. "What? What is it now?"

"Pumcko'hua gurabo chik batua junrapa fenanu qagusi."

"What?"

She laughed even louder. "Guep! Roaerot-jiaz shnarf!"

Although Matt hadn't seen her smoke, pop, or inject anything, he suspected drugs. She did smell a little strange. "Would you like to sit down again?"

"Yok. I'm fine. Let's keep going."

Sarah pointed to children's merry-go-round, something with fiberglass penguins. "Is that ride more your style?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Grrrrr."

They stopped to watch a dolphin show, then came across a sign a large sign displaying a picture of a white canine-dragon hybrid with bared fangs, surrounded by clouds. The red letters said `Falcor.'

Dozens of people stood in line inside a narrow wooden corridor nearby. Matt backed away.

Sarah dragged him up to the line. "C'mon, you know you can wait. You're just being a Wusu."

"Did you just call me a wuss?"

"I said Wusu. It's a small flightless waterfowl we eat on Pathilon."

Matt laughed. "How many hit points does that give you?"

"This many." She punched him lightly on the arm. "You know what I mean. It's like a chicken. You wouldn't do well on my planet. Where I come from, all of our houses are in trees. Sometimes you have to climb bars and walk across tightropes to get places."

"Okay, Miss South!"

Sarah shook her head with a sigh. "I think I'd like to meet that girl."

The line moved along swiftly, and they soon stood at the safety corral. A train of gray cars with a molded dog's head at the lead rolled in, stopping with a loud hiss.

Matt gestured to a car. "After you."

"Wusu," Sarah laughed, hopping in.

"Whatever." He stepped over a door panel decorated with scale and feather designs, fastened himself into a seat next to her. The car rattled noisily out of the gate, zooming through its route.

Matt screamed with every drop, but Sarah enjoyed herself, giggling and pointing out the landmarks. They returned to the train house.

"Let's go again!" Sarah laughed.

"Oh come on. We've ridden it once. Isn't that enough?"

Sarah curved her index and middle fingers into hook shapes, making arcing motions with her hands. "Jubjubjub! Meecha Wusu!"

Matt laughed. "I'm a Wusu, huh?"

Grinning, she made the arcing gesture again, but softer this time. "Jubjubjub, Wusu?"

He sighed. "Well I guess I just am."

"You can wait outside."

"I would, but..."

"But what?"

"...No, you'll laugh."

"You can tell me. It's okay."

Matt blushed. "I'm...afraid some other guy will sit next to you on the ride and then you'll like him instead of me."

Sarah broke into hysterical laughter.

"See?" His face turned a deeper shade of pink. "I knew you'd laugh."

"Then you'd better stay on the ride, or I might fall in love with the next guy that sits down next to me!" She giggled some more.

Matt shook his head, resigning himself to another ride.

As he stood behind Sarah in line, he noticed tufts of hair poking out of her collar. No dogs, he thought. And I don't think it's her hair. Maybe she's got a hairy sweater underneath? But why on such a hot day? He put the thought aside.

This time not as scared of the ride, but he still hated the sharp drops.

After they rode two more times, Matt pleaded, "C'mon, Sarah. I'm tired of this ride. Could we please go ride something else?"

"Stop whining. It makes you less cute."

"Sorry. Could we please go ride something else?"

"Just one more time."

But after that one, she coaxed him into two more after that, until he got more than a little irritated with her.

"I thought you wouldn't mind astronaut training."

Matt furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Never mind." At last noticing his displeased facial expressions, she blurted, "Let's go on that cable thing."

"Cable thing?"

"The trapeze? I saw it near the entrance of the park. People swinging through the air on a cable."

"The Skycord? You actually want to go on that?"

"Guep, yeah! It looks like fun!"

"The Skycord is awful! There isn't a seat or a car or restraints or anything. It's just you in the air."

"Jubjub!" she teased. "C'mon, it'll be great!"

"But it's a special ride! It costs money!"

"So?"

"All right," he sighed. "I guess we can try it."

"After we do the Skycord, we can go do what you want, okay?"

"Fine."

The trapeze-like setup stood next to a fake riverboat. After paying the entry fee, they got fitted with harnesses and cables and pulled by machines until they hung more than a hundred feet in the air, staring down at the merry-go-round and roller coaster buildings. Clammy and scared, Matt forced his eyes away from the ground, but it didn't help. He glanced over at Sarah, hoping the sight would comfort him, but from his vantage point she appeared to be miles away.

A catch opened, releasing him like a pendulum, and he fell, screaming at the top of his lungs as he arced back and forth through the air, swinging to the top of one arc, then another, each time embarking upon a screaming descent. He swung until his momentum ran out, then an automatic winch pulled him back up again, sending him on another harrowing flight. Sarah rushed past him with her arms folded for speedy flight, laughing and whooping with glee as she whipped by. After the third swing, the staff guy pulled them down, taking their harnesses.

"Let's go again!" Sarah laughed.

"No way. It cost too much."

"You're right. You can do the same thing in Bencap for free."

"Bencap? Where's that at?"

"Never mind," she smiled. "We got in your astronaut training. It's your turn. What do you want to do? Please don't say that ride with the penguins."

"Um..." Matt paused. "Let's get something to eat."

They got sodas and hot dogs from a little outdoor cafe, watching a Tilt-A-Whirl type ride spinning around in a blue lake.

"Matt," said Sarah. "If a Christian astronaut is on Pluto when the end times come, will she still be taken in the rapture?"

"The bible doesn't go into that much detail. But I do think that Jesus would have no difficulty swinging by to pick up an extra passenger."

"You think he will pick up alien passengers, too?"

Matt scrunched up his face. "There's no such thing as space aliens."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I know. But if there were, and one became a Christian, would that alien be taken up with the rest of the saved?"

He stared. "I don't know. That's a really weird idea. The bible says nothing about it, either way."

Her expression became downcast.

"That really means something to you, doesn't it."

She shrugged, but made no reply.

They finished eating in silence.

Thunder rumbled. "Great. Sounds like it's going to rain."

Sarah grinned. "Wonderful! I'm tired of being so hot."

"Speaking of which, why are you still wearing those hot clothes?"

She didn't explain. She just threw away her trash. "What do you want to ride next?"

Matt shook his head. Fine. Don't tell me. "Pharaoh's Fury."

"What's on that ride? Describe it."

"You ride a raft through rapids. It's fun."

"It doesn't sound very exciting. Let's ride something else."

"But-!"

Sarah grabbed his hand, leading him through the torii, past a spinning machine that resembled an octopus. Random drops of rain popped him on the head, others making darkened blotches on Sarah's turtleneck.

She pulled him through the old west, down a hill past a video arcade.

The sprinkling raindrops quickly turned into a light shower.

"Ahh. That rain feels good."

They arrived at an intimidating red, white and blue machine with big arms which lifted crowds of passengers into the air, whirling and spinning around while the compartment holding the passengers twirled the opposite way, looking like it intended to dump them all on the ground. The mechanism rolled them in a circle, then the compartment turned them completely upside-down. Just looking at it made Matt sick to his stomach.

"Let's go on that!"

Thunder exploded ominously in response.

"Unh-uh. No way."

The light rain progressed into a torrential downpour. A bright bolt of lightning tore through the night sky.

"Wusu," Sarah mocked.

"I guess I am a Wusu. After all, I only went on the Falcor and the Skycord. Have fun on that ride. I'll just...park my Wusu butt over here, thank you very much."

"Wusu don't have butts."

"Touché. Don't Wusu have legs?"

"Guep."

"Then, they've got to have something to attach those legs to, so technically they must have butts."

Sarah burst out laughing, then kept laughing for more than a minute. Red faced, she wiped away the tears of laughter, taking several deep breaths.

Matt stared, not getting the joke.

"Well, Wusu butt, I guess I'll get on the ride and see if I can find a new boyfriend."

"You do that. Just remember. I did a lot for you today."

"Wow. Two whole rides!"

Matt sighed, slumping his shoulders.

She patted him on the back. "Don't worry. I was only teasing."

Matt blushed.

"Enjoy yourself, Wusu butt." She got in line.

Matt sat on the corner of a tree box, watching her through the soaking torrent. A disappointed murmur carried through the corral, and the line broke apart. It seemed the ride had been closed due to weather.

Good, Matt thought.

Dripping wet, they rushed for the cover of the carnival games pavilion, and they hurried beneath the awning, watching people tossing baseballs at stuffed Fraggles for prizes.

"What now? All the rides are closed."

Matt gestured to the targets. "Want to test your luck?"

"Hey, sounds like fun!" Paying the attendant, she wound up and threw the ball, nailing a Fraggle on the top right corner. Her second pitch turned out equally flawless. She cleared the whole row, knocked down a cluster on the bottom row, winning a giant stuffed dog.

"Wow. You're amazing!"

"Thanks. Any other ideas?"

"Maybe we can play some arcade games or something until the rain stops."

"Okay."

He led her to a skeeball hall a few yards away.

In the harsh fluorescents and blinding flashes of the game machines, Matt spotted soft gray tufts of what looked like animal hair coming up the sides of Sarah's neck. He'd seen it before on the other rides, but had been distracted, dismissing it as imagination. He pointed. "What's that?"

"N-nothing." Sarah turned very pale, pulling up her collar.

"It's not nothing." He attempted to pull it back down.

Sarah grabbed his hand, stopping him. "It's that...darn dog! I...did the wash...and..."

"Your dogs are dead." He moved her hand down.

A tear rolled down her cheek. "It's a birth defect, all right?" She slapped his hand away, running into the rain.

Matt felt terrible. I was just curious! "Sarah! Wait!" he shouted, chasing after her.

He caught up with her in the middle of the path, grabbing her arm, turning her around. "Look. I love you just the way you are."

"You love me? How can you even say that? We've just barely met!"

"It's the love of Christ, Sarah. As a Christian, I'm called to love my fellow man. Human. Don't you understand? I care about you!"

Sarah broke free of his grip, bolting into the women's restroom.

Matt ran beneath the bathroom's porch. "Sarah!"

She didn't answer.

He opened the door, staring at the gray stalls. "Don't make me come in there!"

Sobs echoed through the room. That's probably her, he thought.

"Sarah!"

"Leave me alone."

"Look, I'm sorry! I want to apologize. Could you please come out so we can talk about this?"

"Maybe I don't want to talk about this."

"If I keep going like this, someone will call security on me."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

"I'll be to be outside, Sarah. I'll stay out here all night if I have to!"

She didn't answer.

He leaned in the doorway. "You must think I'm so superficial. You think I'm going to just dump you because you have a little hair growing on your neck."

No response.

"C'mon, Sarah, talk to me."

She didn't.

"Sarah, I love you. I love the real you. You don't need to put up an act for my benefit."

"You're just saying that because you need a ride home."

"No, I really mean it. I'll...I'll even walk home if it makes you feel any better."

Sarah sniffed. "Really?"

"If I have to. Of course, I might not be able to make it back in time for school tomorrow..."

She giggled, then sniffed some more.

"You don't have to hide stuff like this from me."

"Feut ge'l pisoqo gazo'h midasu."

"What?"

She made no reply.

"Sarah, God would love you even if you were a werewolf with a mustache and a beard. And if God can do that, then there's no reason why a Christian like myself can't love a pretty girl that just happens to have hair growing on her neck in an odd place."

"You...don't think I'm ugly?"

"No...you're still very cute! Could you please come out of there?"

Sarah stepped out of the stall, wiping tears out of her eyes. "Did you really mean all that stuff you said?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry," she chuckled. "I'm done crying now."

She joined him on the porch, giving him a hug. "I guess I've been a silly Wusu."

"Jubjub?"

She laughed and took his hand, wiping her eyes with her other one.

"That won't do much good. Your face will just get wet again."

"I know that," she chortled. "So, what now?"

"It's getting late. Maybe we should go."

They returned to the car, traveling down a freeway lined with factories.

"Have you ever tried shaving your neck?"

Sarah winced. "I thought you liked me no matter what I looked like."

Matt gave her a pained expression. "I do. I just wanted to help you."

"I tried it, but it doesn't work. My skin is pink underneath, but it's really scaly."

"Like exema?" Matt furrowed his brow in confusion. "Well that's okay. You're beautiful just the way you are."

She smiled.

Matt stared absently at the passing road cuts and subterranean office spaces, silently pondering what other secrets Sarah hid from him.

"The convention is next week. It's at the Sheraton Hotel downtown. It's going to be big! You still want to go?"

"You bet!"

Upon dropping her off at the house, Sarah did the three fingered face touching ritual again, then to his absolute surprise, kissed him right on the cheek. "Good night."

Matt gave her a bashful grin. "Eyap mez."

Sarah's eyes widened. "You remembered!"

He shrugged. "I tried studying your book. That means good night, doesn't it?"

She nodded.

"Eyap mez."

When Matt returned to the apartment, Keith greeted him with a "Where were you", and he had to give an explanation.

"You need to get a phone. One with apps."

Matt frowned. "Yeah..."

"Sounds like you had an interesting time, though."

"I'll say!"

The next day in drawing class, Matt decided to refine his skills by sketching another picture of Sarah. About halfway into it, he did a double-take when he noticed a ball of red fur retreat into her pant leg. Another birth defect? he wondered. Or some kind of toy?

"Dang!" Fulton muttered over Matt's shoulder. "That's actually not half bad! Now you just need to draw like this all the time." He grabbed a piece of graphite. "May I?"

Matt stepped back, watching the professor brush loose, rough outlines over problem areas in the drawing. "The elbow should be up here." He squinted at Sarah, re-drawing her pant leg at a slightly lower position. "And to be more proportional, the leg goes here...And here's her left sock, with that fluffy red thing on it. You could probably stand to make the neck a bit longer, too. And don't forget the floor plane she's sitting on." He handed back the graphite. "Don't like the model, huh?"

"Uh..."

Fulton crossed his arms. "The problem with clothed figures is that the form tends to get lost in all the folds and patterns in the fabric. It's harder to draw accurately."

Matt blushed at what that implied. "Um...I work with what I can see?"

"Maybe you could get her to model sometime!"

Matt's blush deepened.

Fulton chuckled, returning to his seat.

At the end of class, Matt handed Sarah the drawing.

She laughed. "Is that supposed to be me?"

He smiled. "Yeah. I kinda had some help."

"That's sweet." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

It made Matt feel very hot and self conscious on account of people watching, but her smile made him feel a little less embarrassed. "I...guess I should go to class."

She kissed him again. "I just love that goofy look on your face!"

He practically danced out of the classroom.

That was, of course, until he arrived at Logic class. Despite having a substitute teacher informing the class that the regular professor had fallen ill, Matt realized it wouldn't improve his grades any.

The next morning in sociology class, thoughts of having to present his badly written embarrassing speech in a few short hours distracted him from absorbing anything useful from the lecture.

He thought he saw hair sticking out of the professor's collar, maybe a red fluffy ball poking out from beneath her dress, but decided he just imagined it due to being so fixated on Sarah.

After class, he returned to his apartment with a lightheaded queasy feeling, one which intensified when picked up his starship engine model and donned a spandexy Star Trek ensign costume before his bathroom mirror.

Halloween costume. Cream orange and black with a little silver patch on the breast. White moon boots.

Matt sighed. Well, I've been planning it this way for days now.

He got stares and laughter from passerby as he walked through the school building to the second floor.

Matt ran into Professor Wedgewood in the hallway next to the speech room. She grinned, raising her hands in a Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper!"

Matt's face turned beet red.

"Let me guess. You got a speech."

Matt bashfully nodded.

She laughed. "Good luck, space cadet!"

"Thanks," he mumbled, eyes downcast. He crept shamefaced into the back of the classroom, amidst a buzz of laughter.

It felt unbearably hot to be wearing polyester in such a poorly air conditioned room. His antiperspirant broke down and sweat trickled down his armpits as he dug speech materials out of his bag with clammy hands. He stared at the clock in apprehension.

Mrs. Berringer, the cross-eyed little brunette lady who taught the class, arose from her desk. "First person, please."

No one volunteered. Sweat poured down Matt's head, turning his hair into a wet mop plastered to the sides of his head.

Mrs. Berringer looked at him and chuckled. "Would you like to go first, Mr. Spaceman?"

Matt stood up, face turning a bright red. Trembling, he crept to the front of the room, set up his model, and gave a muddled speech about starship mechanics while someone with a camcorder taped him. Once done, he hurried to the safety of his desk, where he received a stack of peer reviews. He frowned, too embarrassed to read them. He definitely didn't want to watch the video.

At the end of class, the herd of students prevented him from making a hasty exit, so he had to endure stares, mockery and laughter until he at last had room to flee down the hallway.

On his way downstairs, he bumped into Professor Wedgewood again.

"How did it go, Spaceman Matt?"

He stared at her, redness returning to his cheeks. "Horrible. A complete disaster."

"Really? How so?"

"I'm not good at public speaking. I felt like a total idiot. I probably could have done a lot of things better, made it less stupid. I mean, you know what I mean. This costume was a bad idea."

"Life's more than just grades. I'm sure the experience will help you later in life. Plus, I heard a couple girls saying you looked cute."

Matt's mouth fell open, blushing deeper. "They did?"

Chuckling, Wedgewood marched up the stairs.

Despite the pep talk, Matt still couldn't overcome his embarrassment. He hurried back home as quickly as he could.

Keith laughed at him when he stepped through the apartment door. "So, did you knock `em dead, Mr. Skywalker?"

"Not really."

"Like I was saying before, you should have practiced with an audience! I was only too willing to help."

"I was afraid you'd heckle me."

"C'mon, I wouldn't do that!"

Matt sighed and shook his head.

He tried calling Sarah again. The phone rang several times, but nobody picked up. Not even a machine. Maybe she has something against phones? Or answering machines? She does want to talk to me again, doesn't she?

The moment he clocked in at work that night, he got assigned restroom duty. Someone had dropped an entire roll of paper towels into the unflushed toilet, and the walls looked filthy. Matt could have sworn that animals had been using it instead of customers. After that mess, he got sent to the dairy cooler for the rest of the night, this time with the added detail of dumping expired product down the drain in the back hallway. A mixture of curdled milk and expired yogurt oozed down the drain, at times splashing his apron on the way down. Thunder rumbled, rain pattering loudly on the building's metal roof. It got him pondering Sarah's comments about the scaly neck again.

He had just barely finished stacking up a row of fresh milk jugs when he got called out to mop up rain water around the air conditioning vents. The power went out, and the cashiers turned customers away due to inoperative cash registers. Managers put cardboard on the coffin freezers to keep stuff from spoiling. Matt's manager sent him home.

In drawing class the next day, the professor caught Matt drawing Sarah instead of the model again. "Excellent drawing as usual. But I'd prefer if you'd draw Greg occasionally so I have some basis of comparison for final critiques."

As Matt started on a new sketch, Fulton stepped out of the room, returning with a tinfoil hat on his head, and a paper towel tube in his hand. The class erupted in laughter.

The model's posture faltered. "What's with the hat?"

Fulton gave him a wry smile. "It's to keep the aliens from sucking out my brain!"

"And the paper towel tube?"

"I figure if they needed something to probe me with, I'd have something handy."

More chuckles.

Matt glanced at Sarah. She giggled in response.

While he packed up his belongings at the end of class, Sarah came up to him. "I heard about your speech."

"I think Fulton must have heard about it, too. I don't think my drawing was enough to merit that."

"I actually spotted you in the Education Building," she giggled. "It was cute."

Matt blushed. Guess that's one of the girls Wedgewood mentioned, he thought.

"...I asked someone and they said you were doing a speech on spaceships."

"I felt really stupid doing that."

"How do you think people in scifi movies feel?"

He chuckled. "You got a point."

"Hey. The convention is tomorrow night. Do you still want to go?"

"Been looking forward to it."

"I think you should wear your uniform. That would be cute."

"My uniform?" Nervous laugh. "I...guess I can risk looking silly again."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Wait. Can we hang out tomorrow? During the day?"

"Sorry. I've got...work to do. Call me tomorrow night around five."

"I've tried calling you a few times. It's tough to get you on the phone!"

She paused a long time. "Sorry about that. I'm working two jobs."

"Really? What's your other job?"

"I do...lab work. It's really involved. Speaking of which, gotta go. See you tomorrow."

"Okay." He paused. "You still want to go to my church...on Sunday?"

"Sure. I think we'll be able to make it this time." She hugged him. "Eqbino gikpodo."

"What's that mean?"

"`Until we meet again.'"

"Oh." Matt smirked. "Eqbino gikpodo."

She patted him on the back. "See you later, Spaceman Matt."

As Matt was leaving, the professor took a sip of his tea and said, "Now what can we do for an encore?...I know! How about you put on some Vulcan ears and model for the class?" He chortled mischeviously at the thought.

Matt didn't stop blushing from embarrassment until he arrived at his logic class.

The next day, Matt studied the girl's `dictionary' some more, just to see if he could somehow impress her, maybe understand her mind a little better, but eventually gave up and watched Doctor Who reruns for awhile until Keith dragged him along to a men's bible study meeting, a sports apparel store, and lunch. Around 5:00, he got a call from Sarah. She said hi, then went silent for a long time.

"Uh...Dusaq?" Matt laughed. "Still want to go to the convention tonight?"

Long pause. "Guep." Nervous giggle.

"That means yes, right?"

"Guep." More giggling.

Uh-oh. I wonder what she's up to. "Where's it at again?"

"The...Sheraton Hotel."

After some prodding, he got the directions to the place. "Should I go now and pick you up, then?"

No answer. He stared at the receiver.

"Actually, no. I...got...to do...things...to prepare for the convention. You go on. I'll meet you there."

"Are you just putting on makeup or something? I mean, if you are, I can wait."

An interval of long silence. "It's something else."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

"It's...a surprise. Just go on without me."

Matt raised an eyebrow, his mind filling with questions, and a couple brief, unrealistic fantasies about complicated lingerie. "Um, okay. See you there?"

"Yeah."

He puzzled over her strange behavior as he pulled on his starfleet costume, then worried about it some more as he got in the car.

The Sheraton in his area had a 1920's style design, lots of brass and brownstone. It stood tall on a steeply inclined street Matt had to circle the parking lot five times to find an open spot, due to the large amount of science fiction fans in t-shirts, makeup, pointy ears and fake tails.

Inside, though, he thought he'd gone into the wrong hotel until he neared the cafeteria bordering the main conference area. Through a set of double doors stood a mob of obsessed fans in t-shirts and exotic costumes. Matt stared at the gate keepers in Avatar face paint, deciding he'd be unable to find Sarah if he just bought his ticket and wandered through the crowd. I hope she didn't go in without me.

He checked the parking lot, peered past the Na'vi gatekeepers again. Okay, Sarah. Where are you? He called her on a pay phone.

"Dusaq, damuqegu!" she answered in low, sultry tones. "Pocua con sukaboa bripocu!"

"Listen, this is a payphone. I can't talk long. I'm at the convention. Are you coming soon?"

"Guep!" she giggled.

"There's a crowd. Should I wait somewhere for you? Where are you going to be?"

"Just go in and enjoy yourself. You'll know me when you see me. I'll be the one with the furry costume and tail." Then, in a low breathy voice, she added, "Gikwi ausuhi fomu ip raduleri!" The line went dead.

"Hello?"

Nervous and a little worried, Matt put down the receiver, strolling through the convention room, staring at the scifi displays, the cosplayers, the paper and dice gaming sessions, the shops.

He accidentally bumped into a person in a furry monster costume. "Sarah?"

A man's voice mumbled something in reply.

"Never mind. Sorry."

While Matt paused to watch some amateur fan movies, he noticed some odd noises outside the viewing room. He got up to investigate.

A crowd of fans had gathered in the center of the convention space, chattering in excitement about something or another. Matt moved in closer, trying to peek over their heads, but couldn't see much of anything.

"Man, that is one cool costume!" said a guy in front of him.

Matt jumped up and down, trying to get a good look, but he only saw someone's hair.

The crowd parted, and a female in a sleeveless red uniform and skirt stepped out. Silky gray fur covered her arms and legs, a long, scaly, peach colored tail dangling limply behind her, tipped with a ball of red fur. In one hand, she gripped a coffee cup.

Matt stepped closer to get a better look. Once he had turned his attention away from her body, he noticed a familiar bespectacled face staring back at him. "Sarah?"

"Matt!" She stumbled up to him with awkward wobbly steps, wrapping her arms around him. "Ladeketo!" she giggled, squeezing him tightly. Her eyes, although still green, now resembled that of a koala bear's: Silver ringed iris with a slot shaped pupil down the middle.

She pecked his face, nuzzling her nose against his cheek.

Her mouth slid closer and closer to his, her breath warming his skin.

"Whoa! Hello to you too!" He pushed her back. "C'mon. I like you, but this is isn't right."

Sarah let go and stepped back. "Sorry." She blushed.

"It's okay." He stared at her, red faced, shocked into silence.

Sarah gestured to her outfit. "What do you think?"

"You look great!"

"Thanks!"

"I was just asking her how she made that costume," said an Asiatic man in a black suit.

Matt stared at him. The stranger had a striking resemblance to Star Trek's George Takei.

"I bought it online," Sarah blurted.

"No, I meant this." The man grabbed a clump of fur on her arm.

Sarah gasped, brushing him off. "Oh! Well, first I take a layer of rubber latex, and then I attach real animal hair to it with glue and stitches."

"It's so...lifelike." The man plucked a hair. "What about the tail?"

"It's basically servo motors and a tiny pulley system encased in rubber."

The man tried to grab the tail, but it kept moving away. He clapped his hands in delight. "How is it controlled?"

"There's a small computer in there."

"Is it hot under all that?"

"No, I have a miniature air conditioning unit."

"Fascinating. I don't see any zippers or seams anywhere. This is really remarkable work." He lifted her sleeves, tried to check under her skirt.

She pushed him away. "Mister, really!"

"My apologies," he said as he examined her elbow. "You'll have to excuse me. This is really solid stuff!" He turned her arm over. "Not a seam anywhere. It's all one contiguous piece! How did you pour the latex without leaving mold marks?"

"I have a special seamless pouring process."

"Really? How do you get it out of the mold?"

"Magic," she said with a wink.

The stranger placed his hand on Sarah's shoulder, leaning close to her. "Listen, I'd like to have you do some work a TV show." He handed her a card. "Think you'd be interested?"

"Nalah!" she exclaimed, staring at it. "I mean, wow! I'd be...honored!"

"Give me a call next week and we'll work things out from there."

She stared. "...Okay!"

The man left.

Matt read the card. Apparently the stranger did work for Industrial Light and Magic. "Sounds...impressive! What do you think?"

Sarah grinned. "Sounds like fun!"

As a sort of celebration, they got cappuccinos and snacks at a cafeteria in the lobby. The barista gawked at Sarah, but looked away when Matt caught him.

Matt stared at Sarah's tail. "That costume is amazing. It looks so real!"

"Thanks."

"You must have put a lot of work into it." He gazed into her eyes. "Wow, even those contact lenses! No wonder you were late."

In response, she laughed until she got red in the face.

"You okay?"

Sarah coughed. "Yeah, fine."

Matt scooted his heavy chair nearer. "That man was right. I don't see any seams. Turn your arm over."

She complied, but he still couldn't find any seams. "How do you even get into that thing?"

"It's got zippers, but they're, um, in, er, private places."

His mouth fell open in surprise. "You mean..."

"Uh-huh."

"That's genius! No one will ever find them there!" He leaned closer. "Can I see something?"

Sarah nodded.

Matt parted the fur on her arm, expecting to find padding, or polyester, or something like rubber, but instead the surface turned out to be fleshy. Porous. Just like real skin. When he pulled on a hair, the skin stuck up in just the right parts, snapping back in place when he let go. He plucked one of them as an experiment.

"Ow!...Stop it!" She slapped his hand away. "It...took a lot of work to glue that in place."

"That's not glue! I don't believe for a minute this is latex and artificial fur."

"Good. It isn't."

Matt gawked at her. "Do you have some sort of werewolf disease or something? I mean, not like a real werewolf, but, you know, like those kids in the Guinness Book?"

"Hypertrichosis?"

Matt shrugged. "I guess."

"Yeah." Her shoulders slumped. "I've had it since I was a child. That's why I'm always wearing long sleeved shirts. I'm normally too embarrassed to show anyone in public, but I thought this would be a safe place because they expect stuff like this anyway. I guess I was wrong." She looked at the floor. "I bet you think I'm a freak and don't want anything more to do with me."

Matt lifted her chin. "Actually, I'm intrigued. I..." He nearly said `love.' "...Like girls that are different. Is that tail real, too?"

A smile crept up on the corner of Sarah's mouth. "Uh, no, it's fake."

The tail kept moving on the other side of her body so Matt couldn't properly examine it. "I'm...thinking you should probably get rid of that man's card, then."

Sarah sunk lower in her chair. "I had no intention of calling him." She took a big swig of cappuccino and got up, suddenly looking a bit unstable on her feet. "Let's go look around!" She giggled, staggering away from the table. "Giwik qeeimua, chik damuqegu qobemequ." She gestured for him to follow.

"You all right? You look a bit...dizzy or something."

She tottered forward, as if about to fall on her face.

Matt ran to her side, catching her as she fell. He stood her back up, dragging her to a chair.

"What? I was doing okay!"

He pried open her eyelid and found her pupils dilated. "You're drunk."

"Pisoqo jundepo moqoik mokepsu," she breathed, moving her face close to his.

"How many beers did you have today?"

"Beer?" she giggled. "None! I just had coffee."

"Right. Coffee with whiskey shots in it. C'mon. I'll drive you home."

"What about my car? We can't just leave it here!"

"We have to leave it here because you're drunk."

She tried to stand up, but he forced her back down. "Look. I'll tell the hotel staff and everything so they don't tow it."

"No! I'll drive myself home, thank you very much!" She pushed him out of the way and stood up, walking toward the convention area. After a few steps, she took another spill.

This time he caught her just inches from the floor. "Look. I'll drive you home in your car. Just let me have the keys."

"Yok!" She stomped down lobby carpet, pushing her way out the revolving glass door.

"Sarah!" he yelled, running after her. "Stop!"

A few yards ahead, Sarah stumbled through the parking lot, resting her weight on parked cars whenever she lost her balance. Car alarms honked angrily in response, their red lights flashing in the dark.

She tried her keys unsuccessfully in a white Ford Explorer, then a Firebird with similar results. "Babogatten woxna!"

She tried another, and another, until she arrived at the Honda with the leading end smashed against a concrete wall, its front fender and headlights just barely hanging in place, the front grill a shattered, crooked grin. Despite the damage, the car's body and cabin remained intact. It almost looked drivable.

Sarah got in, slamming the door shut.

The engine made angry grinding noises in a feeble attempt to start. It didn't.

Good, Matt thought.

She gave up, stumbling out of the car in awkward dancing steps, like a baby deer just learning to walk. Matt ran to her the moment he saw her trip over her tail and fall forward.

"Hold me," she breathed into his ear as she threw her arms around his shoulders. "Hold me like you did on Naboo."

He laughed. "C'mon, let me take you home."

"Guep," she said in giddy tones. "But...let's take your car."

"Exactly." Matt led and half carried her into the passenger side of his car, buckling her in the seat. He sat behind the wheel, staring at the dashboard. I can't just leave her car sitting there, he thought."Can you afford to fix your car? I mean, when you get sober?"

Sarah nodded. "I think I can."

"Your front end's pretty trashed. It's not even drivable. Still think you can afford to get it fixed?"

"Guep."

He opened his door. "Wait here. We don't want to have to pull it out of an impound lot."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her head sleepily on her chest. "Mmkay."

Matt hurried to the front desk, explaining the situation to a blonde girl behind the counter, then the manager. After handing the man everything in his wallet, Matt got permission to keep the car there until the following evening. In the background, he heard music coming from the other room, but ignored it, running back to his car.

Matt scowled when he found the passenger seat empty. Great. Now where did she run off to?

Filled with worry, he ran back inside, searching the hotel's long hallways, wondering where to go next.

Then he heard someone on a loudspeaker singing karaoke style. That voice!

He waved his pass at the Na'vi door keepers, jogging back into the convention hall. It couldn't be! Could it?

At the end of the auditorium, a crowd had gathered around a stage, where Sarah sang into a microphone. No karaoke machine. She now performed Weird Al's The Saga Begins, and sounding very drunk while doing so.

Oh man! Matt thought. How embarrassing!

She finished the song, and it got quiet. A girl in a Jedi Knight outfit asked her where she got her costume.

Sarah tugged on her red outfit. "Oh? This? You can get these online pretty cheap."

"Sarah!" Matt hissed, gesticulating wildly at her. She didn't notice.

"No," the Jedi asked. "Where'd you get that fuzzy thing?"

Matt ran to the edge of the stage, but found it blocked by groupies.

Sarah lifted her tail. "This, you mean? You can't buy it. I made it myself, and it's very expensive. See...you take a layer of rubber latex..."

"Sarah!" Matt finally had to shout. "Sarah!"

"Matt?"

"C'mon! Let me take you home!"

People muttered to each other.

"I asked her first," said a man in a tan uniform.

Sarah spoke into the microphone. "This is my good friend, Matt. He is a very smart Jewish boy who knows a lot about Jesus. He's been teaching me a lot of different stuff about him, but I'm an alien, so I'm not sure it's right for me. But you people are human. You should listen to him."

Matt blushed. More murmuring traveled through the crowd.

She told them about Jesus, and half the crowd cleared out.

Sarah waved to Matt. "Come up here, Matt. Say a few words."

"Uh..."

Nobody in the audience looked like they cared either way.

"Uh..." With his whole body trembling, Matt climbed the first step to the stage, then stopped, staring at the people. He took a deep breath, crept behind the mike and froze when he noticed people glaring at him. Some looked bored. He fixed his eyes on a wall, clearing his throat. "Um, hi." He glanced at Sarah, then back at the crowd. "Jesus loves you."

Sarah leaned over the microphone. "No matter what you've done wrong, Jesus has forgiven you for it!"

Dead silence. Somebody coughed. The crowd shrank even smaller.

Matt stared. "I thought you didn't believe in Jesus."

Sarah stepped back from the microphone and spoke in low tones. "I never said I didn't believe in him. The only thing I told you was that I'm reluctant to convert to your religion until I know for certain if it's right for my species."

Matt sighed and shook his head. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

Sarah looked disappointed, but didn't reply.

Matt tugged her arm. "C'mon. Let's go."

She nodded, then leaned over the mike. "The peace of the Lord be with you!"

Matt led her down the stairs, thrice preventing her from taking a nasty spill on the way down.

Trying not to notice all staring people, Matt hurried her back into the car, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled out of the parking lot, speeding down the street.

"I have a spaceship," said Sarah.

Matt chuckled. "Yeah? I have lots of spaceships hanging in my room. I even have one of those pyramid things from Stargate SG1. Which ones do you have?"

"No, I got a real one."

I hope she gets sober soon, he thought."Is it...riding a pink elephant?"

She laughed. "That's not funny. I was being serious."

"Right. I'll get you home as fast as I can. I'll help you to your room, then you can dream about spaceships all you want."

"I'll show you how real the ship is. Just you wait."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"You'll sing a different score once you see it."

Matt grinned. "That must be some bottle rocket, the way you keep going on about it."

"Your car is messy." She nodded off.

He drove on. Sarah breathed softly. Low moans and small barking sounds rose in her chest like bubbles, only to die in her mouth. Papers and soda cans rustled noisily as the tail thrashed about on the floor. The tail tip slapped against the gear shift, flopping over on his side.

Matt took one hand off the wheel, grabbed it, running his fingers over its surface. It felt like a cross between human and snake skin. Slick, but with a texture all wrong for rubber, plastic, leather, or anything he expected.

When it wiggled in his palm, and he felt muscles flexing beneath, he dropped it in surprise.

For a moment, the tail slunk back on the floor, knocking around a discarded Pepsi can, but then it plopped over the shifter housing, curling around the stick.

Matt picked the thing up, squeezing it with his thumb. He could feel bones underneath.

He pinched it, driving his short thumbnails into what appeared to be the skin.

Sarah slapped his hand down. "Ow! What are you doing? That...material's not easy to replace." She drifted back to sleep.

A few minutes later, Matt arrived at her house, shifting into park. He stared at the dozing passenger for a moment, then poked her shoulder. "Hey, we're here."

She didn't wake.

Matt gave her a shove. "Hey, we're at the house." When she didn't respond, he pinched the tail again.

"Ow!" She punched his shoulder hard enough to make it hurt. "Don't do that!"

He rubbed his injured bicep. Wow, do you have electrodes in there or something? he wondered. "Sorry. I had to wake you up. You're home."

Sarah nodded, gazing drowsily at the dashboard.

Matt opened the passenger door, attempting to carry her out, but wasn't strong enough to lift her. Shoot. They make it look so easy on TV!

Frustrated by his apparent lack of masculinity, Matt threw her arms around his shoulder in attempts to pull her up by the waist.

Sarah smiled woozily and stood up, tripping and staggering with him up to her front steps.

"You got the keys, right? Don't tell me you left them at the convention!"

"Hmmm?" she said in a delirium. "Keys?" She fumbled around her uniform, unclipping a scanner prop from her belt.

With an utter lack of gracefulness, Sarah unscrewed the lid, spilling credit cards, dollar bills and loose change all over the porch as she rooted around in the casing.

After a minute of clumsy fumbling with a noisy key ring, she had the door open. He lead her through the living room to the staircase.

"Noooo," she moaned. "Not up there. Take me to my spaceship."

"That's where we're going. Your spaceship. It's upstairs, right?" He pulled her to the bottom step.

"Spaceship!" she yelled.

"I know, I know! It's up here, isn't it?"

"No! Spaceship!" Sarah hollered again, beating him over the head with her fists. "Spaceship! Spaceship! Spaceship!"

Matt had experienced worse beatings when growing up. Wimpy hits like this just made him laugh.

"Space ship!" she wept. "Spaceship. Obes, bilo. Please. Not upstairs. There's nothing up there."

"What, you mean there's no bed or anything?"

"Nuh ungh." She nodded, then shook her head. "It's filthy up there. C'mon. I wanna sleep in my spaceship."

"I'll put you on the couch."

"No! I wanna get in my spaceship!" Sarah hit him over the head again. This time it hurt.

"Ow!"

Her strength shocked him. Matt's head throbbed from where she'd struck him. "Spaaaaceship!" She squirmed out his grip, but he grabbed her before she could escape. "You don't have a spaceship, then. Unless it's upstairs."

"I have spaceship. Out back. Swimming pool."

"I thought you said the pool was unfinished."

"I fixed it."

"Oh no. You aren't going swimming like this. You'll drown!"

"Drunk people have swimmed before!"

"They've also died before!"

"Take me to my spaceship!" she screamed, punching him in the chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him. "I wanna go to my spaceship and take a sleep."

"What do you do most of the time? Sleep on the couch?"

Sarah nodded, then shook her head violently. "No, I sleep in my spaceship."

"Here." He laid her on the couch. "You stay here and get some rest while I pick up the stuff you dropped."

"Okay!" Sarah giggled, flopping her head on the cushions. She squirmed and rolled over, struggling to make herself comfortable.

Matt stepped out on the porch, picking Sarah's money and possessions up off the stoop.

As he reached for a stray quarter, the door slammed shut behind him. The deadbolt clicked.

"Sarah!"

In a panic, Matt shoved her things into his uniform pockets, running to the side of the house right when the back door came open. He hopped the fence, tearing his outfit on the way over. Sarah already stood at a ladder, sliding her feet into a completely filled swimming pool.

"Hey! Stop!"

Matt ran and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her backwards onto the deck.

For a moment, Sarah almost stayed put, but the tail remained wrapped around the ladder, tugging her back toward the water.

Matt clutched her, attempting to hold her arms down, but she kept wiggling out of his grip.

"Let go. I wanna go in my spaceship!"

"What do you think you are? Some kind of space mermaid? You're not going swimming until you're sober!"

"You're such a weenie!" She punched him hard, breaking free from his grip with a surprising amount of strength. When he tried to stop her, she slapped him in the face with the tail, diving for the ladder.

Matt watched helplessly as she hurried back to the rungs.

Wait, he thought. What?

Sarah didn't drown. Her hair and clothing didn't even float when they hit the water, the liquid itself remaining flat. Matt's mouth fell open in disbelief.

He leaned over the gutter, stuck his hand in the pool. It came out bone dry. The water rippled and splashed, but had no real substance.

Matt followed his girlfriend in. Beneath the surface, a silver pyramid at the bottom created the illusion of rippling water by means of a series of laser beams, the pool itself nothing but a dirt hole framed by pool tiles.

Sarah swung down the bars like a monkey, missed a rung and fell off. She landed on her feet anyway, marching across the dirt.

Matt hurried to the end of the ladder, hopping off when he passed the six foot mark.

"See? I told you my spaceship was down here."

"That's a neat trick, with that pyramid and all, but..." Matt couldn't finish the sentence.

Directly ahead of him stood a giant red egg with broad curving scimitar wings, standing on a group of thin silver landing gears.

Matt froze in shocked silence, mouth hanging open, mesmerized by the pulsating blue light pouring out through the irregularly patterned seams on the object's tortoise-like shell. The light varied in intensity, alternating between strong and faint luminosity, occasionally changing to other colors as a white fog drifted off its surface in wispy threads.

"Good Lord."

[0000]

---

In earlier chapters of Ernie, we learn all about Abreyas and aliens, so the conclusion of this chapter probably isn't that surprising. For this reason, I cut off the story here, rather than at the incident at the theme park.

Incidentally, I wrote God, Love and Starships years before Disney's Avatar ever existed. My earliest draft dates back to 2006. This rewrite includes Na'vi simply because they have become a large part of science fiction conventions. I'll go into the irony of all this business in a later chapter when the parallels become more obvious.

Let me know what you think.

...Or don't, and I'll post another chapter about Matt and Sarah.