School by Nathaniel Hardman (top reads .TXT) 📕

Jeff barely noticed. Grey and grizzled and wagging his tail frantically as he licked Jeff’s hands and face, was Dusty.

TWENTY EIGHT

On what would have been their fifth day of school, Jeff walked with Suzy out the classroom door and headed toward the stairs. But they were surprised by a guard who wagged a finger at them and said, “No. No zvuiy xisoth.”

“No school today?” Jeff guessed.

Back in the classroom, he noticed a lack of sympathy from the other kids. There was a sort of satisfaction just under the surface as they said, “Too bad,’ and “Maybe tomorrow.”

Jeff wanted to protest that they were going to the aliens’ school and learning so they could help all of them, and it was no picnic sitting through Qush Yurwush’s lessons. But he didn’t. Instead, he sighed and looked for Dusty.

His dog was busy. A circle of kids surrounded the old dog, petting him and scratching his ears.

“Traitor,” Jeff muttered.

After a while, the door opened, and not the expected lunch ladies, but Ushegg came bursting into the classroom, his face stretched into his characteristic grin. “Je, oyeur quirguthz!” he called, waving to everyone. The class gawked, not knowing how to respond. Ushegg waved at Jeff, “Je, Jeff!”

“Je, Ushegg,” Jeff said, beginning to smile himself as he got up and walked over to the other boy. “What are you doing here?”

Ushegg shrugged. Shen walked up to them and said, “Je,” to Ushegg; then he pointed at himself and said, “Shen.”

This delighted the alien boy, who slapped Shen on the shoulder and said, “Je, Shen! Equ Ushegg.” Nacho came over to introduce himself next, followed by Amy, and then all the kids were crowding around Ushegg, introducing themselves, asking him questions. Jeff found himself being forced to the outside of the circle. First my dog, now my one alien friend...

Two lunch ladies showed up then. One carried a big steaming pot, and the other a sheaf of the orange and blue grain.

“Everyone line up with something to put your oatmeal on,” one of them ordered.

The other added, “And we’re leaving this grain here with you. Too much work for us to process this stuff. Just pop off the kernels into a container and give it to the guards when you’re done. They’ll get it down to us in the kitchen. From now on, each class has to thresh their own grain.”

The class hurried to line up with their makeshift dishes – the cover of a binder, a re-used Ziploc bag, Ms. Hacking’s coffee mug – and the lunch ladies served each a large glop of blue porridge. They were calling it oatmeal, but it was slimier than that, and chewier, and it tasted a little like onions.

They ate it like candy – scooping it with eager fingers, licking up every drop.

Ushegg came over to Jeff where he was eating and sniffed the dwindling pile of mush on his mathbook. “Nnnnn,” he hummed, wrinkling his nose. He looked around, apparently for something to do, then pulled out his wand.

The appearance of the wand got everyone talking. “Do some magic!” someone said, and “What can you do?” and “Can you send us home?”

Ushegg preened under their attention and made a big show of deciding what to do. Finally, he held up a finger for silence, then lifted his wand and said, “Keshu! Keshu, keshu, keshu...” A little flame danced on the tip of his wand-candle as he spoke.

The class oooh-ed appreciatively. Jeff frowned. He had shown them the same thing just last night. But the class ate it up. “That’s so cool!” “Do another one!” “Can you make things disappear?”

Ushegg scanned the classroom and zeroed in on a pair of shoes sitting under a desk near the back of the room. He pointed his wand and began to chant, “Chay wiu, chay wiu, chay wiu...” and one of the shoes began to slide and tumble across the floor. When it reached him, he snatched it up triumphantly to the cheers of the class. Then he made a disgusted face and waved a hand by his nose as if the shoe were stinky. The class roared with laughter.

“They do NOT stink!” said Peter. Ushegg gave a shrug that seemed to say, “If you say so.” The class laughed more. Peter fumed. Suzy ran to the whiteboard and wrote, “Wiu – shoe”.

Ushegg put the shoe down in front of him and chanted again, “Chaw wiu, chaw wiu, chaw wiu...” The shoe rolled away from the spell like a box blown by a leaf blower; it rolled and slid in starts and stops across the room, and it didn’t make it back under the same desk as before. But the class still cheered when Ushegg stopped, and Suzy added, “Chaw – push”.

Ushegg pursed his lips in thought as the class waited for his next trick. He snapped his fingers, and held up his wand again. “Cyib, cyib, cyib...” The tip of his wand glowed a pretty pinkish blue. The class clapped appreciatively, but, after all, it was nothing a flashlight couldn’t do.

He considered again. “Who borxz to cux zxarc?” He asked. Everyone stared around, at each other, at Ushegg. Jeff felt like he should say something.

“Yeah – um, thuz?” he said.

Ushegg smiled at him, pointed his wand and said, “Zxerc!”

The spell hit the back of Jeff’s hand like a wasp sting. He jerked away, shouting while Ushegg and the class all laughed. Jeff scowled.

“Zxerc – sting” went up on the board.

Ushegg, still laughing, handed his wand to Jeff and said apologetically – as apologetically as he could manage through chuckles – “Here. Zxerc me.”

For a good, long, half second, Jeff considered being the bigger man. Then he narrowed his eyes, pointed the wand at Ushegg, and yelled, “Zxerc!”

Pain exploded in Jeff’s hand, and he dropped the wand. Ushegg doubled