Chapter Text
Ryland Grace is a screw-up.
Me.
I am the screw-up.
To make a super long story short, I unofficially got kicked out of the scientific world due to some mismanagement of feelings and (as the kids would say) “a hot take”, and now I live here. Well, I don’t live live here, but Grover Cleveland Middle School is basically my second home. I teach 8th grade science, and it’s pretty great. My classroom is decked out with tons of colorful models and charts. And of course I can’t forget my kids. They are sometimes the only reason I get up in the morning.
All of this is to say, although I am a screw-up, and I don’t have much going on in terms of success or relationships, I live a pretty normal life. It’s good.
The bell rings, and I clap my hands.
“Good morning, class! I need you all to wake up a little for me. I know it’s early, but I promise I've got a really fun class for you today.”
I look out to a sea of young faces and open notebooks. The classroom is lit up by strong sunlight filtering through the windows. Abby, my sharpest student, has her hand raised high, and she twitches it insistently.
“Yes, Abby?”
“Mr. Grace! Do you think water is needed for life?”
I forget to breathe. It feels like an egg got lodged in my airway.
“Wh- what?”
“You don’t think water is needed for life, do you? Trang’s mom found your old published paper! I tried reading it,” Abby chirps and pushes her glasses up her nose with a steady finger.
“My mom says it is a dumb idea, but I don’t believe her,” Trang chips in from across the room. “I would never disrespect you like that, Mr. Grace.”
Some other students hum in agreement. Michael in the back adds, “Mr. Grace is just a guy though. He is not like - Einstein! He can be wrong.”
“Well- I-“ I almost never stutter in class anymore. When I was a new teacher, I would, but since then I've built a reputation as the cool science teacher who is always positive and level-headed. Not right now, though. My jaw is locked in place.
“I heard that his water paper is super controversial,” Jeff whispered to Abby.
“Ooooo! Are you the drama, Mr. Grace?”
The rest of the class joins in on the ooooo-ing sound and slowly raises their tone.
“Hey! Cut it out, you guys! You want to know the truth?” I rarely raise my voice, but over top of their taunts, I needed to pierce through. Also, too many strong emotions are swimming violently behind my face, and I am having trouble keeping them all in. Besides, the promise I offered them was too good to pass up. The students all immediately fell dead silent and waited for me to speak. I took a breath.
“Yes, I did write that paper, and yes, I don’t believe water is needed for life. Just because we need water to live here on Earth doesn’t mean that maybe, under different circumstances on a different far-away planet, life can exist without it.”
Some of the students looked at one another and offered varying levels of approval.
Michael is the first to pipe up, “You know Mr. Grace, I think that makes a lotta sense!”
In that moment, everyone else joined in.
“Those other scientists guys are stupid as hell.”
“Tracy, language,” I interject, just barely.
“Yeah! Trang, your mom is an idiot.”
“Wha- no, she is not!”
“Yeah she is!”
“Alright, alright,” I call out. “Enough of all of this. I put so much time into making this awesome lesson about different types of waves, so I would love to get back to actual science class now.”
“We surfing today?”
“No, Jeff, not quite.”
I go over to my laptop to bring up my premade PowerPoint and try to steady my shaking hands.
-
I bike to and from work. It is much cheaper than a car, and it does help me stay active. Despite this, I hate this bike so freaking much. It is squeaking nonstop, and it is getting on my last nerve.
All I want to do is get home. It has not been the best day, and I would like to throw a mini pity party for myself because screw you. I pedal faster.
Why did they have to find my old paper?
It’s not like much changes. It just bothers me that my old, pitiful academia life is now seeping into my new perfectly happy middle-school-science-teacher life. I just want to leave that version of me behind. For good. Most other people have already.
I don’t have many friends. The ones that I do have, though, have bigger things on their plate nowadays. Most have families and jobs that keep them busy. My closest friend, Marissa, whom I met in grad school, got promoted and now does important work for the Department of Energy (DOE) at their headquarters in Washington, D. C. I’m happy for her. It just sucks that she is so far away now.
I bite down my bitterness. I’ll push it down until I get home and I can despair in peace.
THU-DUNK!
“♩♪!” Something that sounds like a screeching monkey mixed with a whiny wind instrument cries out.
I immediately stop pedaling and scrape my heels into the pavement. My breath is caught in my throat. I summon the courage to look at what poor thing I just ran over.
However, when I look back, I am only met with a pile of rocks. One of the more elongated rocks is laid flat on the road. A bike wheel mark is painted on top of it.
“Oh thank god,” I say out loud to myself. I only ran over a rock. I don’t have to add ‘accidentally killed a small, helpless animal’ to the list of why today just sucks.
Although I am incredibly relieved, I am still confused. Could a rock cause that musical-sounding outcry? Where did that sound come from? It must have been a coincidence, and something else made that noise at the exact time. But no, I could’ve sworn it came from that rock pile. Perhaps a tiny mouse is trapped under it? A dog squeaky toy?
As I stay stationary in the bike lane thinking over these possibilities… I catch movement from the corner of my eye.
It moved. The rocks moved.
“♩,” the rock pile squeaks.
All I could do was stand there, stiff as a streetlamp, and watch. I watched as the rock pile tried to push up on its… legs? Then it collapses. It tried this movement a few more times.
A normal person would leave. A very reasonable and normal person would get back onto the bike and high-tail outta there. But I am a scientist, god darn it! And this, this was something I have never seen before.
A living organism! Made of rock! What in the world did I just run over?
I get closer. The rock pile does not move to get away. It seems weak or perhaps dying. Can rocks die?
“Hey uh…” I crouch down and give the rock thing a tiny poke. It whines at me.
“Ah! Sorry! I just, what are you?”
“♩♩♫,” it squeaks.
“Can you understand me?”
“♩.”
I stand up and run a hand through my hair. I can’t describe how I am feeling right now. I feel crazy. I feel like this thing understands what I’m saying. It seems to have a language and uses musical notes to talk. It’s just so bizarre and strange and amazing…
Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there partner. I am jumping to way too many conclusions way too quickly! How can I even prove that this thing is communicating with me, let alone be a real, living, undiscovered organism?
I look back down at the rock creature. Its front limb reaches out and taps the pavement in slow, steady hits.
It’s asking for my help.
-
Before I say what happens next, I want to preface by saying that maybe doing what I did was incredibly stupid and a little insane. Perhaps I could’ve called the authorities and handed the living rock pile over to a group of scientists who would know how to handle this situation way better than I can. Maybe they could take it to Area 51 and find out it was an alien from outer space here to kill us all.
Or maybe I could’ve left it on the side of the road and let someone else make the discovery. Let this be someone else’s problem.
Nope.
I took the rock pile with me. Back to my home.
And all I will say is, thank goodness for elevators! If I had to carry this rock thing up three flights of stairs, I don’t know what I would have done. Probably thrown out my back.
I swipe sweat droplets off my forehead and sit down on the elevator floor for a moment to catch my breath. The rock thing sits next to me. It hasn’t chirped at all since it asked for my help out on the street.
The elevator doors open to the 3rd floor. And because today could not give me a ding-dang break, standing right in front of me is… a man. My next door neighbor.
I’m not sure of his name, but I have seen him many, many times in passing. The first time I noticed him was about two and a half years ago. It was autumn, and the school year was just beginning. Why the heck do I remember that?
He is a shorter man with long-ish black hair and a jagged scar across his left cheekbone. His shoulders are broad, and he has this intensity about him that frightens me just a smidge.
I think he is quite gosh darn beautiful, but I really should not be thinking things like that right now! We’re still on opposite sides of the elevator, staring at one another.
“Uhh, it’s a science project!” I yell out to defend myself and my rock pile. “I’m a science teacher!”
He just stares at me for a suffocatingly long moment. The elevator doors start to close automatically, but he puts out his arm in time to stop it. “Okay?”
I have never heard his voice before, but holy moly it is just as wonderful as…
RYLAND! STOP! THINKING!
“Oh uhhh let me just…” I drag my ‘science project’ by one of the limbs and down the hallway until I get to my apartment’s front door.
I hear the elevator close. My neighbor has made his escape.
“Idiot idiot idiot!”
I put my key in the lock and let myself in.
-
Rocky doesn’t move.
I named the rock pile “Rocky” for extremely obvious reasons and because calling it “rock creature” just did not feel right. If this thing is alive, it deserved a proper name. Unfortunately, I am the only one for the task, and I am just soooo bad at those.
Rocky doesn’t move at all, and it worries me.
A golfball-sized lump of dread sinks low in my stomach. Did I accidentally kill him? Already?
I run my gloved hands over his shell. I made sure to wash my hands once I got back home and put on some more official-ish protective gear to handle Rocky with. I assumed it would be better for both him and me if I did so. Since I am a science teacher and also a mega huge nerd, I had gloves, goggles, and other lab gear already at my place.
Anyways, I don’t feel any movement or vibrations coming from Rocky. He seems completely paralyzed. Or dead. Man, what I would do for some actual fancy lab equipment right now.
I am not religious, but I do thank the powers above for having this happen on a Friday. This gives me the whole weekend to observe Rocky. A whole weekend! I ignore the fact that I do have a whole stack of papers to grade. Shhh, grading papers can wait. I have a never-seen-before-organism to observe and study!
I have given Rocky a large chunk of my apartment’s living room, which is saying something. My apartment is meant for one person, maybe two, and it would probably be considered cruel if I had any pets. It’s a small space. It’s not like I needed a lot of space anyway, not until I had a Labrador-sized-Rocky to take care of. I had pulled a blanket from off of my bed to give Rocky to lie on. I hoped it would make him feel more comfortable. I also moved my couch in such a way as to trap Rocky in the corner just in case he wakes up and is hostile. I would like to have something between me and an attacker. I really hope that doesn’t happen, though.
Food and water. Rocky seemed really weak when I ran over him with my bike (I’m sorry, Rocky, that one was on me). I should lay out some food options and some water in case he needs it when, or if, he wakes up.
I lay out the buffet in random bowls I could find in my kitchen cabinets. One bowl has some spinach leaves, one bowl has some slightly mushy strawberries, and the final food bowl has some thawed chicken legs. I did my best. This was kind of all I had in my fridge.
Man, I’m tired. With all the excitement about finding Rocky, I had forgotten that I have been awake since 6:00 am this morning.
I look over to Rocky. I really hope I didn’t kill him. And I really hope that when he wakes up, he won’t kill me.
-
Tap tap… tap tap tap… tap.
I jolt awake and spring up in my bed. My heart is racing, and I can feel the blood sloshing in my ears. I stare dead straight into the darkness of my room. I listen out again.
Tap tap… tap.
Something is moving. In my living room.
It has to be Rocky!
It’s 3:30 am, so I force myself to stifle my giddiness. If I made any loud noise right now, Rocky or my hot-neighbor-that-thinks-I’m-a-complete-weirdo might get startled and then… well, nothing good could come from either of those options.
I’m just… god I’m just so excited, you know? Rocky had not moved or done anything the entire weekend. Now it is very early on Monday morning and… and he is moving! I can hear his feet tapping on my apartment floorboards. I feel like my entire being is vibrating. I think I taste hope on my tongue. I grin like a fool.
A living rock. This is completely unheard of. I could learn so much. I could write a paper. I could make scientific history. I could go back to…
Agh! Ryland, you need to focus!
As I shuffle out of bed, a very real and alarming thought hits me like a bullet. This is a wild animal that I have brought into my home. It’s probably confused and scared. It could ambush me as I open my door, rip me open, and feast on my entrails.
A shiver runs down through me. I reach for a shady corner in my room and wrap my fingers around an old baseball bat. I probably look a little silly and pathetic, but I don’t care. I don’t really own any other weapons.
I reach out for the doorknob and grip the baseball bat tight with my other hand.
I can do this. I can do this!
I open the door.
I…
I don’t see anything.
I breathe quietly and open my eyes as wide as I can manage. It’s so dark, and my eyes need some time to adjust. I hold my ground as my bedroom door creaks open.
It’s so quiet. Deafeningly quiet. My heartbeat in my ears reminds me that I am - in fact - still alive, so I press on.
I creep slowly down my short hallway. I can peek into the living room. The couch that is supposed to be trapping Rocky in has not moved. None of my limited room decorations or apartment furniture has moved either. Everything is normal.
I continue on and summon enough courage to look down into the area I had made for Rocky. His blanket, his bowls of food, his water…
Oh no.
Oh no no no no no!
Rocky is gone! Completely!
I spin around to scan the rest of my apartment. The kitchen. The bathroom door. The front entrance area. Nothing!
I thought I was tense before, but oh boy! Every muscle in my body clenches. Yes, including my butt cheeks. Every fiber of my being is bracing for an attack from all angles.
I keep scanning and scanning until I hear a small, barely noticeable creak.
From above.
I choke back a scream, and I immediately back up against the farthest possible wall from the noise. My eyes dart up, up, up.
I see everything at once.
Rocky, a frightening dog-sized spider-like silhouette, has perched himself above the still blades of my ceiling fan. It’s like those pictures I’ve seen of huge house spiders in Australia or Japan, but worse because Rocky is so much bigger and I am actually in the same room as it!
“Holy - wha - what are you doing up there?!” I hold my baseball bat tight, ready to hit a home run if needed.
“♩♫ ♫!” Rocky screeches back at me.
He starts to carefully climb down from the ceiling fan and falls onto the back of my couch. He almost falls backward, and I almost laugh.
I watch intensely as Rocky jumps off the back of the couch and towards where I have pressed myself firmly up against the far wall.
“Don’t come any closer!” I give my best commanding teacher voice. It seems to work. Rocky freezes. With my fear slowly subsiding, my curiosity takes the helm. “I uh… what are you? Wait, wait no, I should ask… are you feeling better? Can you understand me? Do you want to kill me? God, I really hope you aren’t plotting your revenge for the bike incident. I am sorry about that, you know! It was an accident!”
Rocky tilts his body from side to side, like a swaying motion. Like a hammock would. “♫ ♪♬♩♩-♪♪,” Rocky replies.
Whoa. I don’t understand any of it, but that was the longest thing he has said so far!
“Okay okay, one thing at a time. Let’s see if you can understand me at all. Can you…” I bring my knuckles against the wall and tap quietly. “Tap once for yes and twice for no.”
Rocky taps once on the floor with one of his front legs.
“Yes? Was that a yes?”
Rocky taps once again.
“Can you understand me?”
Another tap.
It’s so early in the morning that I can barely process what is happening. I know I won’t be able to fully process the importance of this interaction until much later, but still, holy crap nuggets.
I feel the weight of my baseball bat. Right. I should ask about that.
“Do you want to kill me?”
Rocky lets out a whistle that sounds almost like a laugh. Rocky is laughing at me! First off, what the flip, man? But also at the same time, that sound was wayyyy too cute.
Rocky taps twice. I loosen my grip.
“Just to confirm. Do you plan to kill me?”
Rocky taps twice with more sass this time. I can tell because the taps were louder, like stomping. Like he was trying to drive a point home.
"Ok buddy. I understand."
I put down my baseball bat.
-
Obviously, I call out sick for work.
It’s now 7:00 am, and I prepare breakfast for two.
When Rocky and I were able to build a little bit of trust between one another, I was able to walk to the other side of the room and turn the living room lights on. I noted that Rocky had eaten the chicken leg meat off of the bone and barely touched the spinach or the strawberries. So… he’s a carnivore. Maybe.
So for breakfast, I try eggs and bacon.
Like I’ve mentioned before, my apartment is small. The kitchen and living room are almost combined except for the fact that there is a peninsula-shaped bar-countertop that separates them. This means that when I cook, Rocky can stand on the back of the living room couch and watch my every move. I’m still trying to figure out if he has eyes or not.
Along with the eggs and bacon, I make a strong cup of coffee for myself. I have been awake since 3:00 am, and I plan to stay awake for as long as possible. I need to know everything I can about my new roomie. For scientific purposes, of course.
Once everything is prepared, I set down Rocky’s plate of food next to him. He gives the plate a couple of experimental nudges.
“It’s good, I promise. Well, it could probably taste way better, but I’m not crazy good at cooking or anything. Usually I get breakfast at Sally’s Diner. Now that place knows how to make delicious eggs and bacon!” I chuckle to myself, but notice that Rocky has still not touched his food. I get closer and point to the eggs. “These are unfertilized chicken eggs aaaaand this is bacon. It is meat that comes from the belly area of a pig. You know what chickens and pigs are, right?”
Rocky taps twice for “no.”
“Do you know what an egg is? Meat?”
Rocky taps once for “yes.”
“Ok! So there is nothing to worry about! Here, I’ll even try a bite just so you know it is safe to consume.” I rip off a bit of the bacon and a bit of the white part of the egg and shove it into my mouth. It tastes how I think it would taste. A bit bland, but edible. “See? Now you try!”
Rocky stands up a little taller, in what I guess is to psych himself up. One of his front claws reaches out to grab a bacon strip and…
Oh my god. Holy mother of —
He takes the bacon and pushes it up and under himself into a hole I didn't notice before. His whole body vibrates as he eats. I swallow a laugh, or maybe I’m about to throw up.
After Rocky finishes, he practically lights up. “♪-♫♭♬♩!” He whistles at a higher pitch than usual. His front two claws give a gesture that kinda looks like jazz hands.
I copy his movements, “Jazz hands means good? You like bacon?”
Rocky stomps around in a circle and continues the jazz hands.
“Well, I guess that’s one thing figured out about you.”