Bruce Coville - 6th Grade Alien 02 - The Attack Of The Two-inch Teacher

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THE ATTACK OF THE

TWO-INCH TEACHER

Illustrated by Tony Sansevero

Published by POCKET BOOKS

New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore

CHAPTER

[PLESKIT]

A Letter Home

FROM: Pleskit Meenom, on the deeply weird

Planet Earth

TO: Maktel Geebrit, on my beloved Planet

Hevi-Hevi

Dear Maktel:

After my first week on Earth I thought things might settle down a little.

Guess what? The next two weeks were just as difficult. What makes it even worse is that while the

problems the first week were not my fault, this time the whole mess happened because I did something

stupid.Really stupid.

Why do things always get so out of control for me? I sure didn't mean to shrink Ms. Weintraub. I

wouldn't even have brought the Molecule Compactor to school if I hadn't been so desperate and angry.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The whole mess started because my new friend Tim decided we should try to get me to be a little more

"cool."

I know the translator is going to have a problem with this wordcool because it is not like

anything we have on Hevi-Hevi. As near as I can figure out, it

has to do with getting people to like you because you are (a)

different and (b) just like them. If you think this is confusing, just

be glad you don't have to try to be cool yourself. It's very tiring.

Except Linnsy, my other new friend, says it doesn't work totry

being cool anyway. Either you are, or you aren't.

This being "cool" seems to be one of the great mysteries of life here. I have not figured it out yet, but

working on it led to my most recent problem.

I've written out the whole story for you. Actually, Tim and I wrote it together, just like last time. You'll

find it in the attached files.

Tim is turning out to be a really good friend. But please do not worry; that does not mean you are not

still my friend, too. I hope you can visit soon! Even if this planet is strange and scary, it can be kind of

fun.

Until then—Fremmix Bleeblom!

Your pal,

Pleskit

CHAPTER

[TIM]

Off to the Embassy

"Hey, Tim. This is Pleskit. Do you want to come over and share activities?"

Getting an invitation to a friend's house might not seem like a big deal to you. But when that friend is the

first alien kid to go to school openly on Earth, I think it's pretty exciting.

"Just a minute," I replied. "I have to ask my mom."

This was pretty much a formality. I knew Mom would say yes—mostly because I also knew that if she

didn't my brain would explode, and I figured she didn't want that to happen.

To my surprise, getting permission wasn't as simple as I had expected. My mother wrinkled her brow

and said, "I don't know, Tim. It might be dangerous over there."

"For pete's sake, Mom! The embassy could survive a bomb blast. Pleskit even has his own personal

bodyguard."

"Which proves my point! Why would he have a bodyguard if there isn't any danger? And his so-called

bodyguard didn't stop that evil hamster-woman alien fromtrying to empty your brains

last night. She's still on theloose."

"Mikta-makta-mookta has probably left the planet by now. Besides, this is a matter of national security.

If I don't go, Pleskit might take it as an insult! Do you want to offend the son of the first ambassador from

outer space? We might cause an interplanetary incident!"

Mom sighed. "Sometimes I worry that you're going to grow up to be a lawyer, Tim. All right, you can

go. But I expect you home for supper!"

That was fine with me. I may be interested in allthings alien, but after my first

experience with Hevi-Hevian food I was ready to let my stomach

rest for a while.

I ran back to the phone. "I'll be right over!"

"Do you want me to send Ralph to get you?"

"Nah, I'll ride my bike."

"That sounds nice," said Pleskit wistfully.

I felt kind of sorry for him. Pleskit has to travel in a big limousine, driven by a guy named Ralph. It's kind

of cool the first couple of times you ride in it. And it's a lot nicer than my mother's beat-up old Pontiac.

But having to ride in iteverywhere makes it kind of like a very fancy prison.

I can see the alien embassy from our apartment. Actually, you can see it from a lot of places in town,

since it is built on top of a hill in Thorncraft Park and is very big. It's also very weird. Basically, it looks

like a flying saucer suspended from a big hook that curves up from the ground. (The hook is sort of like

the top part of a coat hanger, except it's a couple of hundred feet high.)

As usual, a big crowd was gathered at the edge of the force field that marks the embassy grounds,

gawking up at the saucer. There were only a few protesters now, but their anti-alien signs were pretty

rude. Mostly people were taking pictures and stuff. I saw on the news that hotel rooms are sold out for

fifty miles around Syracuse because of people wanting to see the aliens. I felt very privileged to be

allowed in.

The first time I had entered the embassy I was in the limo with Pleskit and we went in by way of a tunnel

that opens a fair distance from the hook. This time I got off my bike and pushed my way through the

crowd until I reached a small blue dome that stands about fifty yards from the base of the embassy, right

at the edge of the force field. I knocked on the door. The guy inside frowned at me. Then he looked at

the control panel in front of him, looked at me again, and switched on a microphone.

"Place your hand against the wall," he said.

I did as he instructed. My palm tingled for a moment.

The guard nodded. "You pass." He pressed another button, and a panel slid up in front of me. I could

hear murmurs of jealousy from the crowd as I wheeled my bike inside the dome.

The guard, who was a human, held up a hand and said, "Greetings, Earthling." Then he cracked up, as if

this was some brilliant joke.

I thought about answering, "Greetings, Bone-head!" but decided against it.

I leaned my bike against the wall, then climbed into a silver-and-crimson capsule. It was about the size

of my teacher's desk. The seat was padded, and as soon as I sat down, it shifted to fit my butt.

The guard closed the top over me. It was clear, so I could see right through it.

The capsule slid forward into a silver-sided tunnel. The top went dark. Weird alien music began to play

around me. At least, I assumed it was music; a bunch of high, tinkly sounds with a windlike noise behind

them. The music couldn't have been playing for more than ten seconds when the top of the capsule turned

clear again.

I thought something must have gone wrong until I glanced to my right and saw a familiar purple face

smiling at me.

"Greetings, Earthling!" said Pleskit. Hissphen-gnut-ksher (that's the knob that grows

out of the top of his bald head) bent forward, as if taking a tiny

bow.

I was totally startled. "How did I get here so fast?" I glanced down at the capsule I was sitting in. "Is this

a matter transmitter or something?"

I wondered nervously if my molecules had been dissembled and put back together.

Pleskit laughed. "We wouldn't use a matter transmitter for a short trip like that!" (I figured this must mean

they actuallyhave matter transmitters.)

"But I didn't even know I was moving!"

"Now you can see why I don't like riding in that limousine! Come on—let's go do something."

As I was climbing out of the capsule, something poked its head over Pleskit's shoulder.

I jumped back in alarm. "What'sthat?"

CHAPTER

[PLESKIT]

Language Talk

Tim seemed extremely startled to see my Veeblax peeking over my shoulder. Then I realized that he had

not met the little creature before.

The Veeblax was in its resting form, which makes it look something like what Earthlings call a lizard,

though its colors are much brighter. Also, it was trying out three different tails at the moment. Tim's shout

of alarm caused it to transform itself into a lump the same color as my garment. This was not an extremely

effective way to hide. But the Veeblax is young, and still learning.

"This is my pet," I said. I stroked the Veeblax reassuringly. It cooed, raised one eye on a stalk, and

cautiously began to examine Tim.

"That's cool!" said Tim.

This was the first time I noticed him using the word that was to turn out to be such a problem for me,

and I misunderstood. "The Veeblax is not really cool," I said. "In fact, it's quite warm. Do you want to

touch it?"

Tim smiled."Cool just means something is neat. And I'd love to touch

it."

I shook my head. "Alas, the Veeblax is not neat, either. The messes it creates are one of the main

reasons the Fatherly One is not entirely happy that I have it."

Looking a bit nervous, Tim reached out to touch my little shapeshifter. "That's still not what I mean," he

said, speaking softly now."Cool andneat both mean something is ... groovy."

"Ah! Well, the Veeblaxcan be groovy, though at the moment it is totally

smooth."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Groovy means . . . oh, never mind. Can I hold it?"

"That is all right with me," I said, feeling a little unhappy about this fuss we were having over words. "Put

out your hands and see if it will come to you."

Tim did as I said, but the Veeblax clung to my shoulder. Possibly it was picking up onmy

negative feelings. "Never mind," I said. "It just needs a while to

get used to you."

"Just like everyone else," said Tim glumly.

My negative feelings grew stronger. "Tim, look who you are talking to! Do you expectme, the only

purple kid on the planet, to feel sympathy because people have

trouble getting used toyou?"

Tim laughed. "You've got a point."

At the sound of his laugh the Veeblax poked out another eyestalk.

Relaxing a little, I said, "Let's go see if Shhh-foop has anything we can eat."

"I'm not all that hungry," replied Tim quickly. He sounded a little nervous. This dismayed me, for the

sharing of food is a basic way of bonding on almost all planets.

"Gleep!" said the Veeblax. "Gleep! Gleep!"

"Well, you may not be hungry," I said. "But the Veeblax is. Come on, I have to get him a snack."

* * *

My bodyguard, Robert McNally, was already sitting in the kitchen. McNally (that is what he likes to be

called) is a tall, powerful man with dark brown skin. He lives in the embassy with us. But because the

building itself is well guarded, he is only officially on duty when I have to go somewhere.

The Fatherly One's slimeball assistant Barvgis was sitting with McNally. When I call Barvgis a slimeball,

I do not mean it in a bad way, as Earth-lings seem to. It is simply a description. Barvgis is quite round,

and his skin is slimy. So he is a slimeball.

At the moment he was a gloomy-looking slimeball. This was unusual for him, as he is normally quite

cheerful.

Shhh-foop, who does our cooking, was bringing McNally a cup of coffee. Tim and I stopped to watch.

"Ooodlie-opp, snipple geeblies," she sang happily as she used one of the orange tentacles growing from

her head to set the cup in front of him. "I think we have it this time, Mr. McNally!"

McNally looked at Shhh-foop nervously, then raised the cup to his lips. He sniffed the black liquid, blew

across its surface, then took a small sip. Instantly his face puckered into a very unusual expression.

Setting the cup down, he whispered hoarsely, "Not quite, Shhh-foop."

Barvgis chuckled. But Shhh-foop's tentacles drooped, and she moved very slowly as she slid back to

the counter, warbling, "O caffeine bean, O caffeine bean, why will you not do as I wish and make the

coffee for which McNally longs?"

"Hey, it's the dynamic duo," said McNally, noticing Tim and me for the first time. "Ready for another day

of thrills and adventure?"

"No!" I said earnestly. "Ihad enough thrills yesterday."

McNally laughed. "Chill, Pleskit. I was just kidding."

"What is this thing with Earthlings and coldness? First Tim wants me to be cool. Now you tell me to chill.

I do not understand. I am comfortable at my current temperature!"

McNally looked startled. But before he could speak, Tim said, "I've got a question."

"What is it?" I asked. I set the Veeblax on the table, where it began trying to imitate McNally's coffee

cup.

Tim looked uncomfortable. "Well, this confusion we keep having overcool got me wondering

about language. The thing is, you speak our language really well.

You don't have an accent or anything. Heck, sometimes I think

you know more words than I do—you sure use more big words

when you talk. But every once in a while you get screwed up by

a word that seems totally simple to me. So I was just wondering

how you learned and stuff."

Before I could answer, Shhh-foop came gliding back to the table with a bowl ofsplurgis nuggets.

Their savory aroma and twisty green stems sent little love songs

to my tongue. Though I was longing to take one, I waited while

she extended the bowl to Tim. "Snackie-pie, my little Earth-ling

cutie?" she sang.

"No, thanks, Shhh-foop," said Tim. He spoke quickly, and I thought I saw a flash of terror on his face.

Shhh-foop sighed musically, set the bowl on the table, and slid back to her work area.

"You should always try at least a bite of something," said Barvgis softly. "It is one of the first rules of

diplomacy."

"Hey, give the kid a break," said McNally. "It hasn't even been a full day since you guys turned his

stomach inside out with thosefinnikle-pokta things. And you still haven't answered

his question, which is something I've been wondering about

myself."

I looked longingly at thesplurgis nuggets. On Hevi-Hevi we have a rule that

the host may not eat before his guest does. But we also have an

expectation that the guest will take at least a bite of anything that

is served to him. I was not sure if Tim's breaking the rule meant

that I could break it, also. Barvgis sighed, and I could tell that he

was even more eager to eat some than I was.

I decided to answer Tim's question, hoping that the wonderful odor of the nuggets would tempt him to

try a taste while I spoke.

"Learning a language is a two-step process for us," I said. "The first part is fairly easy; we take a pill that

makes the brain receptive to new language."

"How does it do that?" interrupted Tim.

"It makes the brain temporarily more childlike," said Barvgis. "Little kids learn language at an astonishing

rate. So we put the brain in the same chemical state as it is at the time of the 'language explosion.' We

take this pill just before going to sleep. Then we put on a helmet, and all through the night the new

language is pumped into our brain. Ten nights of this is usually enough to get the basic command of a

language."

Tim's eyes were wide. "That's cool!"

"There you go again!" I said. "Things likecool we do not learn. I mean, I know the

word, but not the way you use it. The program gave me the basics

of language. But it is very formal."

"Sounds a little like having a dictionary installed in your head," said McNally.

"Yes!" I said. "But the definitions are very literal. To play in a language, to be creative with it, that you

can only learn byusing the language. And I have observed that people

here play with words a lot. I think many of you are secretly

poets—or would be, if you had the chance. But that does make it

hard for me to understand you sometimes."

"Well, we'll just have to work on that," said McNally.

He reached for his coffee cup.

Then he began to scream.

CHAPTER

[TIM]

We Meet Ms. Buttsman

Pleskit's bodyguard is a tough guy. He packs a gun and I figure he knows all kinds of martial arts and

stuff. I'm using him as the hero of a comic book I'm trying to write.

So I was surprised to hear him scream in terror.

On the other hand, I suppose I would have screamed, too, if I had picked up my coffee cup and it

turned into a squirming lizard-thing in my hand. I could tell McNally wanted to drop it—mostly because

he leaped to his feet and began shouting "Ai! Ai! Ai!" while he shook his arm. But the Veeblax wasn't

letting go. It clung to McNally's hand, shrieking "Gleep! Gleep! Gleepitty-gleep-glop!"

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THEATTACKOFTHETWO-INCHTEACHER IllustratedbyTonySansevero PublishedbyPOCKETBOOKSNewYorkLondonTorontoSydneyTokyoSingapore CHAPTER1[PLESKIT]ALetterHome FROM:PleskitMeenom,onthedeeplyweirdPlanetEarthTO:MaktelGeebrit,onmybelovedPlanetHevi-HeviDearMaktel:AftermyfirstweekonEarthIthoughtthingsmights...

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Bruce Coville - 6th Grade Alien 02 - The Attack Of The Two-inch Teacher

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