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There’s already the sound of trilling and scuttling as I approach my teaching alcove, even though I’m twenty minutes early. I raise an eyebrow at the six pebbles around the classroom. Well, five pebbles. Piper, as usual, is sitting quietly at their seat, ‘reading.’
I’ve had to get a lot more creative than ‘Rocky’ or even ‘Adrian’ in giving my students Earth names. I don’t need them anymore, I’ve got their tunes memorized. They all still begged me for them. Piper was actually pretty easy though. The tallest of my students, the long, cylindrical formations of their body reminded me of pictures I’ve seen of Organ Pipes National Park. I’ve been researching a lot of geological formations for inspiration.
Piper pipes a shy greeting before going back to their book.
Eridian books are basically the same as ones on Earth, except the letters are punched through the page. They aren’t the most popular form of media on Erid; obviously auditory is going to be more widespread. (Not to sound elitist, but you haven’t heard opera unless you’ve heard Eridian opera.) I swear the kid’s read almost every book on Erid, to the point where they’ve been pestering me in their own reserved way to get some of the books I’ve brought with me translated. I need to get on that, because knowing Piper, they’re either going to run out of books or start getting into stuff not appropriate for a pebble’s hearing.
Meanwhile, the other five stop their game of tag and chirp excitedly at me.
“Teacher Grace!” Fuji, named for the white capped little ‘mountain’ on one side of their body, trills as they hurry forward.
“You guys are early!” I say. I’ve had these guys for around half an Earth year and they’ve picked up English pretty well. “Don’t you have anything better to do? In fact, don’t you have other classes before mine?”
“Not today!” Fuji says, bouncing on thick legs of pink granite. “Today is holiday!”
“Teacher Grace doesn’t know, question?” River says. Their round, smooth body, like a river rock, somehow manages to convey a shocked look. “Today is 𝆕♪♩!”
I sigh and look to Iggy, short for Igneous. River likes to see me sweat over new words. Good thing I’ve got my pal here.
“It’s day Hero Rocky and Teacher Grace arrived on Erid.” They say in their soft voice. It’s so different from what their large, black, blocky form would imply. “They use old old old language to make word. Also called Day of Healing Stars.”
That’s a little confusing. While I’ve been here around three Earth years, twenty-five Eridian years have passed. I’m pretty sure I’d have heard of this holiday if it’s happened twenty-three times before. I turn to my laptop and check the Erid/Earth clock I made. To my surprise, it’s not lining up on the Erid calendar. However, it’s been three Earth years to the day since we arrived.
“Huh.” I say. “You guys celebrate it using Earth time?”
“Yes!” Fuji says. “Hero Rocky insisted.”
“Human year is too long!” Wedge complains. They wiggle their- well, wedge shaped carapace. (Listen, it just stuck. I can’t be a genius with them all. Cut me some slack.) They then pretend to fall over dead. “We are all old by the time Day of Healing Stars comes again!”
“Sorry buddy.” I say. “I don’t make the rules.”
“This is what Teacher Grace tells us.” Wedge says, flipping back upright. “Could be making it up. But since only human we know…”
They huff an impressive, melodic, and dramatic sigh.
“Trust me, if you meet another human, they’ll give you the same numbers.” I tell them. “But now I’ve got a couple of questions-”
River’s hand shoots up.
“River, you don’t even know what the questions are.”
“Can still probably answer them.” They say smugly.
They’re not wrong, little know-it-all.
“Well, then, first question: what do you guys do to celebrate?” I ask.
“Wear special clothing for celebration, do dances, have special special special thrum.” River says quickly.
“We thrum about things we have done or experienced since last Day of Healing Stars.” Iggy adds. “And we thrum about how we could not have done them if not for Hero Rocky and Teacher Grace.”
Aww. Though it doesn’t surprise me. We did save the planet.
“Next question.” I say. “Why hasn’t anyone told me about it?”
Piper surprises me by speaking up.
“Teacher Grace was still very sick for first two.” They say.
I grin. See, kids can still pay attention while reading in class! Take that, Mrs. Grubb from second grade! That’ll teach you to be boring. Major life victory aside, that makes sense. I only started feeling all right around when I started teaching the kids. It was the only reason Rocky let me start teaching. The recovery was rough, two and a half years of malnutrition and sickness. Rocky probably hadn’t wanted the excitement for me.
“What about this year?” I ask. “Maybe I wanted to dress in celebration clothes and dance.”
The pebbles squeal at the idea.
“We-ll,” Fuji says. “Parents say many Eridians want Teacher Grace to make many hearings and speeches, but Hero Rocky says no. Maybe same reason? If Teacher Grace came, much fuss would be made.”
Aw, Rock. He knows how much I didn’t want to be a celebrity. He was probably trying not to overwhelm me. I wish he’d ask me, but he’s still recovering from the whole ‘Grace is too sick to make choices’ experience.
“Okay, then, third question.” I say. “What are you all doing here? You have the day off from your other classes! Get out, go celebrate!”
The group begins to laugh, chortling chimes that never fail to make me smile.
“Thrum is over!” River says, as if I should already know.
“Today is to celebrate Teacher Grace!” Fuji says. “How else can we celebrate other than to come learn, question?”
That has me grinning even harder.
“Oh, then you’ll all be on your best behavior for me, right, Wedge?”
Wedge shrinks down.
“Can make no promises.” They mumble.
I laugh, then turn to my laptop.
“Well, we’ve still got fifteen minutes.” I say. “I’ve got to prep some more, okay?”
They give me an acknowledging chorus. I bring up my lesson plan again. We’re doing gravity today. We’ll probably recreate some of the experiments I did on the Hail Mary.
“Teacher Grace, question?”
I look down to see my smallest student, Skip. I wonder how they or their parents would react if I told them I named them that because they’re the ultimate skipping stone: smooth, round, and flat. I bet I could beat a few personal records with them. If Eridians didn’t sink like, well, a rock, Skip would probably love for me to try.
“Hm?” I ask.
Skip holds up what looks like a weird shaped stone.
“Skip made gift!” They squeak.
Oh. Oh, I had forgotten how this feels. I have never felt so loved than when a student brings me an earnest gift.
Except when Rocky nearly died for me. Or when he hugged me back. Or when he postponed seeing Adrian to make sure I was taken care of when we first arrived. Or-
I’ll be here all day if I go down that rabbit hole.
Anyway, this little gift makes tears spring up in my eyes. I crouch down.
“Thank you, Skip.” I say thickly. “Can I see it a bit closer?”
Skip doesn’t respond. They have gone rigid, clutching what I can now see is a carved stone. I blink and that makes a tear run down my cheek.
Skip stumbles back, dropping the gift, and screams, “TEACHER GRACE IS LEAKING!”
Uh oh.
The entire room bursts into pandemonium. River keels over, arms in the air like a dead spider. Wedge starts flapping their arms, shrieking: “SKIP BROKE TEACHER GRACE!” Iggy is just running around on stumbling legs. I’m pretty sure they’re just screaming wordlessly at the top of their valves. Piper scuttles to the back of the room and tries to make themselves as small as possible.
Only Fuji tries to keep it together, though they’ve got a few hands clutching their carapace.
“SOMEONE CALL HERO ROCKY!” They yell.
“Guys-” I try.
No one is listening. Skip is warbling out a noise that I can only translate as ‘gross sobbing.’ I can’t tell who’s yelling now, but I’ve got “TEACHER GRACE IS GOING TO DIIIIE,” and “WE KILLED ERID HERO,” and “DO WE PANIC, QUESTION,” and most popular, “BAD BAD BAD,” ringing around the dim room.
We might have started a planetary emergency, judging by the panicked tooting I can barely hear from outside the classroom. Heck, I might even hear sirens, but that also might be Piper screaming.
This is somehow still better than 6-7.
It takes twenty minutes, the rest of my class arriving and freaking out, five adults that come in and proceed to panic too, and me shouting myself hoarse without anyone paying attention before Rocky comes to rescue me. He bolts in and blasts a discordant note that somehow quiets the room immediately. Dang. I need to record him doing that for when things get too rowdy in class.
“What happened, question?” He demands.
“I’m fine, Rocky.” I call. “I just got a little emotional, and-”
“Leaked.” Skip whispers.
Rocky gives an amused trill, relaxing.
“Is called crying.” He says, adding a soothing warble to his words. “Is normal for humans when emotions are strong. Class must have misbehave misbehave misbehave for Teacher Grace to cry.”
The pebbles blare out indignant tones at that. It’s a good tactic. The kids are now too offended to be scared.
“Not true!” Fuji cries. “We are good good good students! Except Wedge.”
I only make Teacher Grace laugh! Never cry!” Wedge protests.
“Guys, guys!” I call. “They were happy leaks! Skip gave me a present!”
“Happy leaks, question?” River sounds downright offended.
“Ah, understand.” Rocky says sagely. “Pebbles, you must caution. Teacher Grace cry with gift. Have seen myself.”
My entire class turns (okay, not turns, but I can feel them focus on me).
“He leaked when I gave Astrophage-”
“That was you saving my life!”
“Leaked when we gave him biodome-”
“Again, saving my life!”
“Leaked when we gave him me-burger-”
“Please don’t bring that up.”
Skip creeps forward and picks up their gift.
“Those are big things.” They say. “You leak only from song rock, question?”
“Oh, so that’s what it is.” I say.
I should have guessed. Song rocks are carved to whistle a word or two when air passes through them.
“You not know what it was, question?” Abba, my resident dancing queen (gender neutral), squeaks. “And you still leak, question?”
Great. This was as bad as the time I came into my classroom on Earth and tripped. While holding a bunch of glass beakers. In front of my entire class. The kids would not let me live it down. At least I won’t need stitches after this.
I ignore Abba, which I would never do to their namesake, and crouch down again.
“Well, Skip?” I ask. “What does it say?”
Skip perks up and waves it through the air quickly. I’m pretty sure I hear ‘Day of Healing Stars.’ They do it again faster.
Nope. That is- not ‘Day of Healing Stars.’
That definitely says ‘Day of Healing Gas.’ (Gas and stars share some tones, because as Pumbaa says, they’re ‘great big balls of gas’)
Skip freezes again and this time I can tell it’s from embarrassment.
“Sorry sorry sorry!” They say quickly. “I will do again, will make it right this time!”
I grin at him.
“It’s perfect.”
It’s a few days before Rocky and I have some time to talk. Being one half of the Heroes of Erid duo, and being the half that won’t implode on most of the planet, keeps him busy sometimes. In the meantime, I’ve received no less than three more song rocks from my students. After the explosive first reaction, they’ve decided it’s actually funny to get me to cry. And darn it, it’s worked each time.
All four are in a group right outside my house, the seeds of a rock garden I’m sure I’ll be building. The artificial wind blows through them and I catch snippets of ‘Day of Healing Gas,’ ‘Learn Learn Learn,’ ‘Best Teacher,’ and…’Egg.’
Just egg. That one made me cry laughing. Wedge insisted it was supposed to say ‘pebbles,’ as in my students, but nope!
Egg.
I think they did it on purpose.
It still makes me laugh. I keep imagining my Earth classroom, filled with posters with stuff about learning and science, and then one that just says ‘egg.’
I laugh right now just thinking about it.
“What’s funny, question?” Rocky asks.
He and Adrian are curled together on the beach next to me, both in their Xenonite suits.
“Wedge’s song rock.” I say.
“Not that funny.” Rocky says.
“Earth thing.” I tell him. “That reminds me. Why didn’t you tell me about the Day of Healing Stars this year? I get I was too sick the last two years-”
Rocky waves a lazy claw.
“If you go, all of Erid would cheer and call you hero.” He says. “Grace does not need big head.”
“Oh?” I ask. “What about you? You get cheered at and called hero, won’t you get a big head?”
“Where Rocky head, question?”
Touché.
“Stop teasing Grace!” Adrian rumbles. They turn to me, dislodging Rocky. “Grace, Rocky was afraid you would not like it, but would say yes just because we ask.”
So it was out of concern for me. He’s right. I do great in front of a class, but just standing there being praised? No thanks.
“Fair enough.” I say. “How about next year we have our own party?”
“Fun!” Rocky chirps. “Just us!”
Adrian leans towards me.
“Not only reason.” They say in the Eridian equivalent of a conspiratorial whisper. “Rocky afraid afraid afraid you will meet new Eridian to be best friend.”
Rocky gives a betrayed creak, but I grab at him.
“C’mere,” I say, because there’s absolutely no way I’m moving him myself.
Rocky sighs and shifts close enough for a hug. He pats my back with one Xenonite covered arm.
“How many of those other Eridians saved my life? Or was brave enough to go to space to save everyone? Or is an exact copy of you?” I ask. I can feel myself getting choked up. Rocky grumbles deep, like a dog. “You’re not my best friend just because you’re the first Eridian I met.”
Adrian warbles a laugh.
“I tell Rocky this!” They say. “Maybe will believe when you say it, though I doubt. Rocky stubborn stubborn stubborn.”
“And Grace leaky leaky leaky.” Rocky complains. “Stop leaking on me!”
I grin through my tears and let go.
“Sorry.” I say and wipe off the surface of the suit.
But there are far worse things to be than leaky.