3. CHAPTER THREE
The first step into the street confirmed I was no longer on Earth. The air was fresher somehow. It was crisp and filled with the most fragrant, sweet notes I had ever smelled.
Then there was the gravity. It was just slightly off. Not enough to make me stumble, but enough that every step felt like the ground was a bit squishy.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Pia’re asked, watching me with amusement. “The gravity here is about eight percent lighter than Earth’s. You’ll walk funny for a bit, but then you’ll get used to it.”
“I already walk funny. This is just giving me an excuse.” I winked.
I clutched my chest, laughing breathlessly, and spun in a slow circle. “This is incredible!” I shouted into the air. “Woo!”
Pia’re laughed and shook her head. “I am so glad to be witnessing a human’s first time here on Vela.”
I smiled as I tapped my wrist comm. The holo-ticket hovered in the air—ZHARI LUMIS—LUMARA—TONIGHT ONLY. The venue icon pulsed at me from the map app, a little star a few blocks east.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You made it across space. You can make it downtown. I am proud of you.” I tightened my backpack straps and grabbed my suitcase handle.
We started walking down the busy street, my eyes jumping from one thing to another.
I had been told humans were still rare enough here, which I could definitely feel.
The attention on me felt like static on my skin.
Velans moved around me in glittering swirls.
Some had bioluminescent patterns along their cheekbones, while glitter-light threads wound through their hair.
Most wore cool chromeskin jackets that shifted color as they walked.
Street vendors floated trays of things called dew cakes and shimmering drinks that looked like bottled constellations.
I knew they were dew cakes because they were one of Zhari’s favorite snacks.
Sometimes during interviews, she would be eating them.
She always described them as “light and fluffy, with a subtle ube taste.”
My eyes followed the tray. “I will definitely be trying one of those while I’m here,” I muttered.
Holo-billboards bloomed over the avenue, all of them showing different versions of Zhari. Back home, her face had been something I saw through tiny screens. Here, she was the city’s wallpaper.
“Okay, so Nebs,” Pia’re said, steering me sideways down a narrow street I totally would have walked straight past. “Trust me. An empty stomach plus dancing just does not mix well.”
The street opened into a strip of tiny window-front stalls crammed together, steam rising from each one.
The smells layered on top of one another in ways my brain couldn’t sort out.
One vendor had a bubbling vat of something golden that smelled like caramel and black pepper at the same time.
Another was frying flat, translucent discs that crackled and curled as they hit the oil, glowing faintly at the edges.
Pia’re ordered for both of us at a stall no wider than a closet. The Velan behind the counter moved fast, ladling broth into deep bowls and dropping in thick, noodle-looking things that shimmered pink.
Nebula Noodles. Nebs.
Pia’re handed me my bowl. It was hot in my hands, but not scorching like some food places back on Earth. It was just right. We moved off to the side, and I took my first bite, shoving the Nebs into my mouth.
“Oh my stars,” I said, chewing and slurping the broth. “This is amazing! They do taste similar to ramen! I also think they’re more flavorful.”
Pia’re grinned. “Earth has good noodles too. You humans just don’t have comet spice. You have to add comet spice to your Nebs.”
“I will keep that in mind for the rest of my trip.”
We finished eating while standing shoulder to shoulder with other Velans who didn’t give me a second glance. It was kind of nice to blend in instead of sticking out.
Just as I was finishing up, a small creature about the size of a football waddled past my ankle—round and furry, with huge black eyes. It made a purring chirp that sounded like a ringtone. It looked as if someone had designed a cat but got distracted halfway through and just made a sphere.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“A Pilu,” Pia’re giggled. “They usually live in the forests on the outskirts of the city, but there are so many in the streets, begging for food. Don’t feed it, or it will follow you home.”
It stopped walking and looked up at me, blinking. I immediately wanted to feed it.
“You are so totally cute,” I beamed.
“Come on. Let’s head to the venue.” Pia’re grabbed my bowls and tossed them into some red bins.
As we made our way to the venue, we could hear the music getting louder.
Clusters of fans spilled along the street, tour merchandise everywhere.
Chromeskin jackets were the number-one-selling item.
After all, they were Zhari’s favorite pieces of clothing, according to her.
On the back of each jacket was Zhari’s signature, flashing aqua before slipping into a subtle violet.
Music leaked from every direction. A chorus from one device cut through, half a beat ahead of another. Somewhere behind me, the same line stuttered, delayed. Her voice overlapped with itself—fractured and out of sync.
“I’m going to grab some bracelets and merchandise before heading in. It was really nice meeting you, Vada. I hope you enjoy the show. Now that we’re on Orbit Palz, let’s make sure to sync up!” Pia’re leaned in and gave me a quick hug before trailing off toward the merchandise booth.
“Bye, Pia’re! It was nice meeting you. Thanks for everything!” I waved and kept walking toward the entrance to the concert.
The line outside wrapped alongside the building, a shimmering, chattering serpent of bodies and color. I slipped in at the end, dragging my suitcase along the narrow sidewalk.
A few spots ahead, a cluster of human girly-pops laughed loudly. They leaned into each other, fixing their glossy lips and dusting more glitter onto their eyes. They wore cute neon outfits with more glitter and high black wedge sandals.
I was a bit relieved there were more humans there. It made me feel like I was back on Earth for a moment.
In front of them, two Velans greeted each other with a kiss that would have been third-date material on Earth. All tongue and hands. They stopped after a moment and went right back to talking as if nothing had happened.
I tugged the hem of my miniskirt down an inch, grinning a little to myself. We were really doing this. I felt sixteen again, my stomach fizzing as I waited outside a venue I’d saved three weeks of babysitting money to get into. That concert had been for the Cosettes, an all-girl band from Toronto.
The Velan directly in front of me—a tall woman with a high collar of reflective fabric—glanced over her shoulder, then did a tiny double take. Her skin lit with a faint rose glow along her temples.
“First time in Lumara?” she asked. Her voice came through the translator sounding resonant, like low notes on a smooth sound system. Velans sounded much different from Steve in logistics. He always came across as monotone and dull.
“Do I have it written across my forehead?” I asked, tucking some hair nervously behind my ear.
She smiled. “You keep looking around and scrunching up your eyebrows,” she explained.
“Well,” I laughed, “actually, I do. I don’t travel alone, so I get waves of anxiety. But it’s starting to calm down.” I lifted my wrist to show my ticket. “I came for the show, obviously.”
“Well, I figured that since you’re standing in the concert line.” She laughed. “So, you crossed systems for Zhari. Totally high-frequency.”
“Yes, I did. I was a bit nervous riding in the shuttle for the first time, but I would totally do it again.”
“Well, you picked the right place for the concert. This venue is one of the better ones. The view is great no matter where you choose.”
As if on cue, a promo drone drifted overhead, projecting footage of Zhari rehearsing.
Her hair was pulled back, and she wore a simple pink chromeskin outfit with bright purple makeup.
The dual-pulse on her neck flickered rapidly as she hit a run of notes, then cut herself off sharply with a hand gesture toward the band.
She said something that everyone thought was funny.
Then she reset, rolled her shoulders, and went again.
Even grainy and half-transparent, something about her pulled me in.
The line inched forward. Slowly but surely, I was almost at the front doors. The arena loomed above us, a cavernous bowl of crystal and metal with its own internal glow, as if it were housing a star instead of a stage.
Which, technically, it was.
By the time I reached the front, the nervous edge in me had melted into anticipation, bright enough to drown out the little parental voice telling me this was crazy.
I mean, traveling as an adult wasn’t crazy, but spending money I really shouldn’t have was.
Or probably traveling intergalactically without telling anyone.
It was fine, though. I’d be fine.
Around me, people leaned into each other—friends fixing each other’s makeup, couples pressed shoulder to shoulder, and groups huddled over shared screens replaying old concert clips. Everyone had brought someone. I had brought my sketchbook and a half-formed plan.
It was working for me, though.
I mean, I had done everything alone for years. Movies. Dinners. Birthdays where the only notification was my mum’s obligatory happy birthday text and a corporate email from my dentist. This was just the intergalactic version of that. Same girl, just a bigger adventure on a different planet.
Despite the waves of anxiety, I was really excited. It was the kind of excitement that lived in your whole body, making your hands shake and your grin silly. I didn’t need someone next to me to tell me this was amazing. I already knew.
Being alone didn’t mean I was sad. Sometimes it meant I was the only person brave enough to show up for myself.