Kal #2
“Not really.” Lola shrugged. “Mostly just surprised.” She shifted her position on the floor and rubbed at the base of her spine. “And possibly a little bruised.”
I groaned, completely guilt-ridden. I deserved her anger and her frustration, but all she showed me was kindness. What was I supposed to do with that?
Lola clambered up from her seated position and began gathering the golden discs in the fabric of her apron.
“Here, let me,” I said, eager to make amends and prove I could be helpful.
I jumped up and bent to sweep the remains into my arms. We worked in silence for several moments.
I played and rewound the last five minutes over and over in my head, so engrossed that I didn’t notice how close I was to Lola.
We reached for the same scrap of abandoned baked good at the same time, bumping heads.
“Ouch.” Lola rubbed the spot where we had collided. I reared back, hoping that if I put distance between us, maybe I would stop making such a fool of myself.
But before I could berate myself more, Lola started to laugh. “If it’s going to be like this,” she said, squinting an eye as she continued to rub at her head, “one of us is going to have to wear a bell. Or an air-cushioned bubble.”
“I’m really very sorry,” I said, backing slowly toward the door. I was sure—so sure—one accident could have been forgiven, but two was a step too far. “I’ll…I’ll go. I’m so sorry.”
“Wait!” Lola called out. “It’s okay.”
I paused halfway to the door.
“Really,” she said with a small smile. “Accidents happen.”
Accidents happen.
Accidents happened, but why did they always seem to happen to me? In a world of strict rule-followers, on a planet where perfection was normalcy, it was always me who couldn’t keep it together.
But Lola didn’t seem to be upset at all, only concerned for my well-being. Which was…new.
“You’re not mad at me?” I felt pathetic asking the question. So pathetic that the question caught in my throat like a lump.
“Pssh,” Lola made a funny sound with her lips.
“It’s just a few biscuits.” She tossed her apron of ruined biscuits into the bin.
“This was nothing. One time, when I was, like, sixteen, I spilled a gallon of cooking oil because I wasn’t holding it right.
It was so bad. We were slipping and sliding for hours before we got it all up.
” Lola shook her head as she recounted her story.
“But I learned my lesson, and I’ll never make that mistake again. Now you’ve learned an important lesson,” she said, tossing more biscuits away.
She looked at me expectantly, but my words were stuck in my throat.
“The lesson is: Don’t sneak up on me in the kitchen. I’m jumpy.”
Don’t sneak up on her in the kitchen. I could definitely do that. “Yes, chef,” I said, nodding seriously.
She sighed. “You really don’t have to call me that, Kal—no matter what my cousin told you. Lola is fine.”
“Lola,” I repeated, letting the feel of the name fill my mouth, warm and sweet. “Yes, Lola. And I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I know,” Lola said, her lips curving into a smile.
My gaze lingered, and I watched as color spread across Lola’s cheeks. Pink, like her hair. And just as lovely.
As I stared—because there was no other word for it but stared—Lola’s smile dropped.
“What’s this?”
Lola’s eyebrows pinched together, and she moved closer, hand raised. I felt her brush against my shoulder, so gently, before holding a leaf between us. Her eyebrows pulled closer as she studied it, then circled me. “You’re covered in grass and leaves,” she said.
Lola rounded on me, leaf still pinched between thumb and forefinger. “Did—did you sleep outside last night?”
I heard the dry click of my throat as I swallowed.
My shoulders tensed. I’d slept outside because I didn’t have a choice.
I thought it was the best option to avoid exposing myself as not of this world.
But could that choice I made for survival be the very thing that got me caught? Had I given myself away already?
When I didn’t respond, instead staring at Lola dumbly, her lips twisted. Considering me.
“Kal, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly.”
Lola wanted me to be honest, but I couldn’t guarantee that. Not if the next question would put me in danger. Or worse—her. Humans, I’d learned, didn’t always handle discovering the existence of alien life very well.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Lola asked.
My vision went fuzzy, and my fingers curled against my thigh. Breathe, I reminded myself. Keep breathing.
I shook my head. A silent no.
Lola tapped a finger to her chin, contemplating what to ask next. I was anticipating the worst when she opened her mouth again.
Are you an alien from another planet? Are you an imposter? Are you a mistake?
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
I thought about this for a second. Technically, I might have been in trouble with the law on Xaerea. But not with any human laws.
I shook my head no.
Another finger tap told me Lola had another question. “Do you have a place to sleep at night?” she asked.
I was ready to reply, yes, of course, but then she clarified: “I mean, a place that isn’t outdoors?”
Ah. In that case…
“No.”
Lola stared at me, silence hanging between us, a veil of things left unsaid. A persistent beep from the oven broke her attention. She turned on her heel, stuffing her hands into thick mitts.
“There’s a couch in the office. You can sleep there tonight if you want.” Then Lola called over her shoulder, “Now come on and help me with these cinnamon rolls.”