“Yeah,” Jeb told him enthusiastically, “but not the lizardy kind. They’re all made up of jelly. They can fly, though… sort of. The air’s thicker, sort of jelly, too. So it’s almost like swimming. And they can breathe acid—that’s about as good as fire, wouldn’t you say?”
I let Jeb fill Jamie in on the details while I ate more than my share of food and drained a water bottle. When my mouth was free, Jeb started in with the questions again.
“Now, this acid…”
Jamie didn’t ask questions the way Jeb did, and I was more careful about what I said with him there. However, this time Jeb never asked anything that might lead to a touchy subject, whether by coincidence or design, so my caution wasn’t necessary.
The light slowly faded until the hallway was black. Then it was silver, a tiny, dim reflection from the moon that was just enough, as my eyes adjusted, to see the man and the boy beside me.
Jamie edged closer to me as the night wore on. I didn’t realize that I was combing my fingers through his hair as I talked until I noticed Jeb staring at my hand.
I folded my arms across my body.
Finally, Jeb yawned a huge yawn that had me and Jamie doing the same.
“You tell a good story, Wanda,” Jeb said when we were all done stretching.
“It’s what I did… before. I was a teacher, at the university in San Diego. I taught history.”
“A teacher!” Jeb repeated, excited. “Well, ain’t that amazin’? There’s something we could use around here. Mag’s girl Sharon does the teaching for the three kids, but there’s a lot she can’t help with. She’s most comfortable with math and the like. History, now —”
“I only taught our history,” I interrupted. Waiting for him to take a breath wasn’t going to work, it seemed. “I wouldn’t be much help as a teacher here. I don’t have any training.”
“Your history is better than nothing. Things we human folks ought to know, seeing as we live in a more populated universe than we were aware of.”
“But I wasn’t a real teacher,” I told him, desperate. Did he honestly think anyone wanted to hear my voice, let alone listen to my stories? “I was sort of an honorary professor, almost a guest lecturer. They only wanted me because… well, because of the story that goes along with my name.”
“That’s the next one I was going to ask for,” Jeb said complacently. “We can talk about your teaching experience later. Now—why did they call you Wanderer? I’ve heard a bunch of odd ones, Dry Water, Fingers in the Sky, Falling Upward—all mixed in, of course, with the Pams and the Jims. I tell you, it’s the kind of thing that can drive a man crazy with curiosity.”
I waited till I was sure he was done to begin. “Well, the way it usually works is that a soul will try out a planet or two—two’s the average—and then they’ll settle in their favorite place. They just move to new hosts in the same species on the same planet when their body gets close to death. It’s very disorienting moving from one kind of body to the next. Most souls really hate that. Some never move from the planet they are born on. Occasionally, someone has a hard time finding a good fit. They may try three planets. I met a soul once who’d been to five before he’d settled with the Bats. I liked it there—I suppose that’s the closest I’ve ever come to choosing a planet. If it hadn’t been for the blindness…”
“How many planets have you lived on?” Jamie asked in a hushed voice. Somehow, while I’d been talking, his hand had found its way into mine.
“This is my ninth,” I told him, squeezing his fingers gently.
“Wow, nine!” he breathed.
“That’s why they wanted me to teach. Anybody can tell them our statistics, but I have personal experience from most of the planets we’ve… taken.” I hesitated at that word, but it didn’t seem to bother Jamie. “There are only three I’ve never been to—well, now four. They just opened a new world.”
I expected Jeb to jump in with questions about the new world, or the ones I’d skipped, but he just played absently with the ends of his beard.
“Why did you never stay anywhere?” Jamie asked.
“I never found a place I liked enough to stay.”
“What about Earth? Do you think you’ll stay here?”
I wanted to smile at his child’s confidence—as if I were going to get the chance to ever move on to another host. As if I were going to get the chance to live out even another month in the one I had.
“Earth is… very interesting,” I murmured. “It’s harder than any place I’ve been before.”
“Harder than the place with the frozen air and the claw beasts?” he asked.
“In its own way, yes.” How could I explain that the Mists Planet only came at you from the outside—it was much more difficult to be attacked from within.
Attacked, Melanie scoffed.
I yawned. I wasn’t actually thinking of you, I told her. I was thinking of these unstable emotions, always betraying me. But you did attack me. Pushing your memories on me that way.
I learned my lesson, she assured me dryly. I could feel how intensely aware she was of the hand in mine. There was an emotion slowly building in her that I didn’t recognize. Something on the edge of anger, with a hint of desire and a portion of despair.
Jealousy, she enlightened me.
Jeb yawned again. “I’m being downright rude, I guess. You must be bushed—walking all over today and then me keepin’ you up half the night talking. Ought to be a better host. C’mon, Jamie, let’s go and let Wanda get some sleep.”