Although Kenji returned to his book, he cast periodic glances in our direction, keeping an eye on his sister and his slave. Lyric waded further out until the water reached her neck while I remained perfectly still, determined to avoid creating waves.

“Alani!” Her head bobbed and she spat water. “Carry me.”

“Say please, Lyric.” He turned a page in his book.

“Please,” she said without hesitation, but I’d already extended my arm, my hand just below the surface in front of her. She climbed onto my fingers, folded her legs, and bounced like an excited frog.

“This is fun!” She crawled into my palm, facing me. “Go, go, go.” 

Not hearing any protests from Kenji, I retracted my arm, keeping her body halfway submerged. He didn’t appear concerned about her distance from the shore, nor should he be. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Thankfully, he also neglected to insist she say please again, a word that only brought discomfort. I took pleasure in being commanded. If anything, I should be the one saying it. Please instruct me, please order me, please let me know how I can help.

She giggled as she glided through the murky water. “Faster!”

I moved my arm in lazy circles; fast for humans meant slow for me. Judging from the wake and her peals of laughter, I’d chosen the correct speed.

Surprisingly, she jumped off near my shoulder and dog paddled toward it. Before I could intercept, she clung to my floating hair, a nearly imperceptible tug. My palm emerged under her kicking feet and provided a stable platform, but she didn’t relinquish her grip. Instead, she wrapped herself in my locks, a curious behavior.

“You’re hair smells so good, Alani.” She jumped and dangled in the air for a few seconds before standing once more on my hand. “I want to smell like you. Can you take me to your shoulder?”

“Sure.” I docked my right hand against my left shoulder, just above the surface of the water. After she unwound herself, she boarded using my clavicle as a step. She climbed my hair but didn’t make it far before Kenji called her name.

“Times up!” He started the engine of the ATV. “You need to take a bath and eat.”

“Aww.” She grabbed my earlobe, a ticklish sensation. “You didn’t even get wet! Quick, Alani. Splash him before he gets away.”

I inhaled sharply. “Oh no. I can’t do that.” The thought of aggression, even playful in nature, repulsed me.

She whined, then dropped onto my shoulder. “Well, let’s beat him home at least.”

“Ok.” I nodded, eager to atone for my refusal of her prior request. “Hop on.”

She jumped into my palm, and I rose to my full height. He had a head start this time, but it wouldn’t matter. If a brisk walk would make her happy, so be it.

***

We won the race again, of course. Kenji had tried his best, and I’d been tempted to slow down, but Lyric’s passionate encouragement couldn’t be ignored. Nothing short of a direct command would have allowed him to win, and best of all, he chuckled and congratulated our victory in good spirits.

After they headed inside, I found an unoccupied area of the pasture and sat. The cows grazed, the pigs wallowed in their mud hole, and two horses rolled in the grass. They all kept their distance from me, but I didn’t mind; I contented myself with watching the house.

The sun would set soon and I’d watch that too, but they were inside the house, and I liked to imagine what they were doing. I’d never before preoccupied myself with the lives of owners, but then again, I’d never been owned by someone like Kenji.

I lifted my hair to my nose. She’d said it smelled good, but I couldn’t smell anything other than the dirt and the hay and the natural odors of the farm. Perhaps I should wash it every day after finishing work. It wouldn’t take long, and —

The screen door clapped shut as Lyric sprinted toward me. Still wearing her wet swimsuit, she carried a covered plate with both hands. Why wasn’t she taking a bath and eating? She could hurt herself running barefoot like that. He would be upset if he knew she was outside.

“Alani!” She boarded my hand and I lifted her to my face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as she tried to catch her breath.

“My birthday was last week. I turned eight. I want you to have the last piece of cake.” She opened the lid and revealed a triangular slice, brown with white icing. “It’s carrot cake. You’ll like it.”

“Lyric, I —”

“Kenji said it was ok. He said you don’t eat people food, but it doesn’t hurt you. Stick out your tongue.”

I stared at the tiny morsel. Though curious as to its taste, I couldn’t bear the thought of eating her last piece. What amounted to little more than a crumb to me would surely bring her more joy if she ate it herself.

“Please, Alani.” She sat down cross-legged with the plate in her lap. “I want you to have it, even though”—her eyes dropped—“you don’t want to be my friend.”

How could I respond? “I’ve never had a friend.”

She looked up and furrowed her brow. “You haven’t? Not ever?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean? You...just have to like me. Friends like each other, and they talk to each other. And sometimes they do things together and share and give. But you don’t have to give me anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I already like you.”

Her eyes widened. “Then, you’re my friend?”

“Yes.”

She smiled the widest smile, and it spread to my face like a sunrise. In spite of my apprehension, I’d definitely answered correctly. I just needed to learn more about friendship to avoid disappointing her.

What should I talk to her about? What should I share with her or give to her? Perhaps Kenji or Carl could elaborate with examples. If I spread my questions around, I’d be less of an annoyance.

“You’ll eat the cake?” she asked.

“Yes.” I stuck out my tongue as far as it would go.

With a giggle, she dumped the cake onto the tip. My tongue pulled back, my mouth closed, and — wow. I’d eaten sugarcane before, but this was a hundred times more concentrated. I savored the sweetness and swallowed.

“You didn’t even chew.” She laughed. “Did you like it?”

I nodded. “It didn’t taste like carrots.”

“It’s not supposed to, silly!”

She went into an explanation, describing the recipe and the baking process. I listened, but she knew so much about cooking, and I’d never seen an oven. I had nothing to say. If she hadn’t already, she’d soon discover my ignorance. She’d tire of explaining things, and get upset at my lack of participation in any conversation. And then, she wouldn’t like me anymore.

I wish I were smarter.

***

Crouched in front of the house, I waved as Lyric boarded her school bus. Children stared at me through the windows, fingers pointing and mouths slack. They’d probably never seen a Fyth before. From what I’d heard, very few of us lived on Osmichi. In spite of the planet’s agrarian culture, it’s lengthy distance from Serus Prime made Rouean expensive and Fyth slaves less desirable.

I waved to Kenji as he departed for college. Minutes later, I greeted Carl upon his arrival. Waking up early had so many benefits. I’d never allow myself to sleep so late again.

Without saying a word, Carl marched right past me, boots clomping through the dirt. Though likely still upset, he didn’t carry a whip and he hadn’t called me any names. But he also hadn’t given me any instructions. So I followed him, carefully, keeping a respectable distance. What else could I do?

He went about his morning routine, tending to the calves, the cows, and the chickens. I memorized his activities in case I ever needed to perform them, but most were beyond my capability. A cow would never let me touch her udder, and hen eggs were far too small for me to collect without breaking them.

“You just goin’ to foller me ‘round all day?” He spat a brown stream into the mud, then squinted up at me. “Ain’t you got work to do?”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He repeated my words with a higher pitch to his voice.

I tilted my head and frowned. How could he not know what to do? He used to work for Kenji’s father. “Did you forget?”

He gripped the uppermost rung of a wooden fence with both hands. “Do you even realize how stupid you are?”

I didn’t know the answer to his question. I was stupid, but perhaps I didn’t realize the full extent of my stupidity. While awaiting my response, his face reddened all the way to the top of his balding head.

“Feed and water the horses and pigs. Then water the field you plowed yesterday. It ain’t rocket science. Get it done this morning.”

“Where do I get the food and water?”

“Horses eat hay. Pigs eat corn. The lake has water.” He spoke very slowly though I couldn’t see why.

“Where —”

“Take me to the barn.” He glared at me and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

I lowered my hand inside the fence, causing cattle to retreat. After he stepped on, I delivered him to the barn and opened the door for him. Then, I pressed my ear against the ground so I could see inside as he walked to the back.

“If you can’t see the hay, you’re fuckin’ blind.” He walked past the bales and pointed to a large cylindrical container that doubled his height. “Use that for the water. It’s empty.” He grabbed a gray sack and tugged it partway across the floor. “Pig feed. I ain’t carryin’ it.”

“Thank you, Carl.”

He walked toward me and paused at the rectangular burlap stack. After uncovering it, he said, “Ain’t never seen this.”

“That’s my food.”

“Oh yeh?” He scratched his beard. “Expensive, ain’t it?”

“I think so.”

“Kenji trusts you not to eat it all like a pig?”

“I would never do that.” I wished he’d replace the cover. Looking at the food tempted me, and I didn’t want to be tempted.

“Sure. Whatever. Now get to work.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Aside from the difficulty I’d experienced reaching into the barn, providing the animals with food and water had been easy. A bale of hay and a hundred pound bag of dry corn weighed nothing. Even the thousand gallon storage tank filled with water wasn’t heavy, not in the least.

My strength was one of my greatest assets, yet I rarely used more than a fraction of it. Humans employed machines to lift bulky objects, and machines didn’t require expensive food like me. Nevertheless, I still took pleasure in any opportunity to be helpful.

Watering the field had been a strenuous activity, the storage tank woefully inadequate for the job. After making several trips to the lake and back, I’d worn a path through the pasture, and by the time noon arrived, sweat dripped from every pore. Ironically, the exertion energized me, because it demonstrated my value.

“Yer done!” Carl sat under his favorite oak tree, munching on a sandwich.

I approached him, confused as usual. “I only watered half —”

“If you drip sweat on me, I’ll —” He clamped his mouth shut and glared before speaking again. “Yer done. I gave you the morning, and the morning’s over.”

“But why?” I knelt to see him better, ensuring my sweat wouldn’t drip on him. “I can work through the afternoon.”

“Because I gotta spray ammonia, and you gotta move those rocks.”

“Oh. I forgot about the rocks.”

“Sure ya did.” He took a swig from his flask.

He was being so agreeable. Maybe… “Carl, will you be my friend?”

His face contorted, but he spoke after a pause. “Sure.” He mumbled something about pigs flying and a bells freezing over, but I focused on the important part, the part I understood: his acceptance of our friendship.

“Thank you, Carl! I promise I’ll be a good friend.” I wanted to pick him up, but my hands were sweaty and dirty. “I’m Lyric’s friend too. She said friends should talk and share and give. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“I ain’t talkin’ to an idiot like you. Now get back to work.”

“Ok.” Maybe some friends didn’t talk as much, especially with someone as stupid as me. “Is there anything I can give you?”

“I said get back —” He paused, looking me in the eye. “What you got that I’d want?”

Exactly the question I was hoping he’d answer for me. I had nothing to give anyone. “What do you want? Maybe I could get it.”

His eyes darted away, then back to me. “You got money?”

“No.” I’d never been paid with money. Humans loved it, but I’d rather have food.

“What about yer food?” he asked, as if reading my mind. Maybe we had more in common than I realized.

“You like to drink Rouean?”

“Fuck no. But I could sell it. How about you load my truck with a container?”

“I don’t know. It’s not mine. Kenji said I should only drink it when I get hungry.”

“That means it’s yers, sweet cheeks.”

I didn’t understand ‘sweet cheeks’, but it sounded better than Fugly. “What if he asks me about it?”

“Tell him you got hungry.”

“I can’t lie.”

“Fine. I’ll replace it with a container of green water. He ain’t ever gonna know.”

“But —”

“I ain’t got all day. Yer the one who wanted to give me somethin’. If you changed yer mind —”

“No! I’ll do it.” I smiled. I’d made the right decision. I’d made a new friend. And best of all, it felt good, especially since Carl had already given me so much.

Somehow, I’d find a way to survive without eating for an extra week. Somehow, I’d make it work. Because friendship required giving, and giving sometimes required sacrifices. He sacrificed his time to train and supervise me. This was the least I could do in return.

It was what any friend would do.

***

After Carl fertilized the field, I loaded one of the Rouean containers onto the bed of his gray pickup. He probably needed the money to make repairs; the truck appeared older than the one Kenji drove.

He departed and I continued moving the rocks to the other side of the lake, a muddy area without many trees. I worked quickly, taking advantage of my time alone by using my top as a sack. By the time Carl returned, I’d finished the task and had wrapped my chest once more.

He drove to the barn and skidded to a halt. “Alright. Unload it. Be quick about it.”

I frowned. The green liquid didn’t have the same metallic hue as Rouean. Still, if Kenji asked, I’d tell him the truth and accept the consequences.

I lifted the container. At least it weighed about the same.

“Alright sweet cheeks, I’m off. See ya bright and early tomorrow. Oh and, thanks for the gift.”

“You’re welcome, Carl. I’m glad —”

His rear tires spun, shooting rocks into my knees as he drove off.

“— we’re friends.”

He probably didn’t hear the last part, but we were friends nonetheless.

***

“He’s already gone?” Kenji walked toward me, rubbing his shoulder and stretching his neck. He wore a white t-shirt, sleeves short enough to reveal more of his tattoos. Decorating his right arm, a black-green lizard spat dark orange fire. Its tail spiraled upward, hidden by his sleeve, the spade-like tip barely visible at the base of his neck.

Would he ever remove his shirt? Perhaps if he went swimming. Then, I could examine —

“Alani?” He placed a hand on my shin, and my shoulders jerked slightly.

“Yes, sir?” I was sitting cross-legged as I’d seen Lyric do.

“Carl’s gone?” He removed his hand and my mind cleared a little.

“Yes, s — Kenji. He left a few minutes ago.”

“Probably trying to avoid me. Did he bring the whip today?”

“No.” I shook my head, emphasizing the good news.

“What about your name? Did he call you by your name?”

I considered the question. “No, but he didn’t call me Fugly anymore.”

Kenji’s eyes narrowed. “He called you that?”

“Not anymore. Not since you spoke with him.”

“Yeh, I’m going to have another talk with him tomorrow.”

“Kenji, please don’t be mad at him. He’s really trying. He’s teaching me so much about the farm. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“Alani, it’s his job to train you. But if he can’t show you respect, I’m going to fire him.”

“Oh no. Please don’t do that. We’re friends now, and I’m sure he’ll call me by my name soon.”

He stood there, blinked a few times, then sighed. “Ok. I think you’re being too nice, but y’all did get a lot of work done today. The field looks great, and you even moved the rock pile. Thanks.” He patted my leg and I smiled.

Then, he turned and walked back toward the house. “And by the way,” he said over his shoulder. “You’re not ugly. You’re pretty. And your smile is amazing.”

***

“Alani!” Lyric’s purple backpack swung from side to side as she ran across the grass. She hopped onto my hand and, and when I brought her to my face, she hugged my thumb. I caressed her head with the forefinger of my other hand, wishing for a way to return her affection.

“Kenji said I could do my homework outside until dinner. Isn’t that great?”

I nodded, excited to spend time with her. She plopped down on my palm and unzipped her backpack. Then, she removed a book with a girl, a pig, and a duck on the front. There was another animal, and they all looked at a black dot hanging from a thread.

“This book is called Charlotte’s Web. I have to read a chapter a day. But we can take turns reading. I’ll read the first page and you read the second and so on. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Lyric...I don’t know —”

“Please, Alani. It’s a good book. I promise. Listen, I’ll start. Where’s Papa going with that ax?” She continued reading the first page, while I zoomed in on the text and tried to follow along. Branford’s wife had taught me the alphabet and the sounds of letters, but nothing as advanced as reading entire words. She’d given up, complaining I was too slow.

On the other hand, Lyric read the words without the slightest hesitation. She’d expect me to do the same. I couldn’t pay attention to the story because my heart pounded in my chest. When she turned the page, my stomach churned.

“Are you ok, Alani? You’re shaking.” She pressed her hand down into my palm and I steadied myself. If I couldn’t control my nerves, I’d have to set her on the ground.

“I’m ok.” A picture of a farmer with an ax appeared at the top of the page. A little girl grabbed the ax with both hands. Luckily, the picture, occupying three-fourths of the page, reduced the number of words I’d have to read.

Lyric pointed to the first sentence. “Start reading here.”

I swallowed. The letters were P L E A S E. “P—Pla—Plee.”

She looked at me, her head cocked to the side. “Please.”

I nodded. “Please d — don —”

“Alani? You don’t know how to read, do you?” she asked, clearly disappointed.

I shook my head.

“Kenji said you’re nineteen. Shouldn’t you know how to read?”

“I’m sorry, Lyric. I’m not smart.” I looked away. She wouldn’t want to talk to me now that she knew I was stupid.

“That’s ok.” Her voice sounded encouraging, almost cheerful. “This boy at school calls me dumb. And he’s not the only one.”

“But you know how to read.”

She giggled. “That’s because I go to school. You’ve never been to school, have you?”

I lifted my eyes to her, dumbfounded by her positive reaction. “No.”

“Well I wouldn’t know how to read either if I’d never been to school.”

“You wouldn’t?”

She laughed. “Alani, you’re funny. I’m glad you’re my friend now. If you want, I can teach you how to read. I still have my early reading books.”

“But what if I can’t learn. Will you be angry?”

She rolled onto her side, laughing. “Of course not! I’ll just read to you. Either way, we’ll have fun. I bet you can learn though.”

“Are you sure Kenji won’t mind?”

She sat up. “He said I can play with you as long as I get my homework done. And over the weekends, we’ll have all day. I can’t wait!” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Alani, your eyes are wet.”

“You’re so nice to me.” Her kindness was vastly different than Carl’s. It spun my emotions out of control.

Her little grin returned, and she hugged my thumb again. “You’re my friend, Alani.”

And that was all she needed to say. She wanted to help because of our friendship. Because she liked me.

Like water to a fish, I’d existed in a bubble of solitude for as long as I could remember. But that changed.

The bubble popped, the tears flowed, and my smile had no bounds.