Worlds Apart

"I wish you wouldn't cut it," Liz added, eyeing his blonde fuzz. "When you let it grow out, you almost look like one of us."

Jamie ran his fingers through it absent-mindedly, Liz watching him with her emerald eyes, her pupils reflecting the light that bled in from the street.

"Coach won't let us have long hair," he explained, "it might get caught in something. I'll take your fashion advice into account, though."

Liz dressed very much like her human counterparts, preferring long-sleeved tops like hoodies and sweaters that concealed the fur on her forearms, and she wore loose-fitting jogging pants that would let her digitigrade legs bend at the heel joint. She loved winter, as the cold weather gave her an excuse to wear mittens and a beanie that further concealed her alien features, giving her a confidence boost that Jamie always found endearing.

"Speaking of fashion," he began, "you were telling me about those clothes your mom tried to get you to wear? What happened with that?"

"Oh, don't remind me," she groaned as she lay her head in her furry hands. "They brought some kind of 'traditional dress' with them from the homeworld," she said, making air-quotes with her clawed fingers. "As if I'd want to wear the damned thing. 'You're on the cusp of adulthood'," she added, imitating her mother's gravely voice. "'It's time you started dressing like an Elysian'. As if I need to stand out more than I already do."

"What did they even look like?"

"Weirdly revealing," she replied, her cheeks warming a little. "Like, I know that Borealis is a hot planet -- my parents keep the thermostat high enough that I got the picture -- but I'm not exactly comfortable walking around in nothing but strips of translucent fabric."

Liz was a meek girl, very much a product of her environment. From what Jamie had been told by her parents, and what he had learned in class, the Borealans were a martial people. They were described as muscle-bound warriors, always depicted as the tip of the spear in Coalition military engagements. After seeing her parents, he could certainly believe it.

"Not that I don't get where they're coming from," Jamie began, Liz narrowing her eyes at him. "It must be weird for them, to see you reject their traditions, but they have to let you be your own person. You've never even been to Borealis."

"Well, that might change," she said. "Mom and Dad have been hinting that we might be going back to Borealis sometime soon, maybe to visit family. I was part of a litter, you know. I have four siblings that I haven't seen since I was a baby. My parents left them in the care of my Aunt when they brought me here, said they would be too much to handle without the help of a pack. It was a big deal for them to take the job at the embassy, they had to leave a lot behind."

"I can imagine," Jamie muttered. He knew that Borealans lived in tightly-knit social units called packs, like wolves or a pride of lions. To the best of his understanding, her parents leaving them behind was like leaving a spouse to work off-planet for years at a time.

"They've been pretty tight-lipped about it," she continued, tapping one of her black claws on the table idly. "They haven't given me anything concrete to go on, but that's the impression I'm getting lately. Maybe they want it to be a surprise. I've never been there before, but I've read all about it, I'd be excited to see it for myself."

The waitress arrived with their orders balanced in her arms, Liz leaning back to let the woman set a large plate of food in front of her, licking her chops eagerly. Her sharp claws sank into the sesame seed bun as she lifted the burger to her lips, taking a large, wet bite. The girl could eat. Despite her small stature, she easily outpaced Jamie when it came to dining, often consuming three or four human portions when the mood took her. It was a source of minor embarrassment to her, but she never seemed to gain any weight, likely due to her alien metabolism. She had an odd palate, too, favoring fat and salt over sugar. In fact, he couldn't remember a single instance where she had ordered something sweet like a dessert or a soda, at least not in his company. Wherever all those empty calories were going, they were going fast.

The waitress handed Jamie his float, and he drank down a mouthful of the cold liquid through a straw as Liz continued.

"Do you think your parents would let you come with us?" she asked, talking around a mouthful of cheese and meat. "I hear the environment there is pretty hostile to humans, but you can stay ground-side for like...five or six months before you start having medical problems. You wouldn't fare much worse than me," she added, taking another bite. "I grew up in Earth-standard gravity, so it will be an adjustment for me, too. I have denser bones and reinforced joints, though."

He considered for a moment, resting his chin in his hand as he stirred the floating icecream in his drink with the thick straw.

"Probably not, I'd miss a ton of practice."

He hoped that if she did end up visiting, it wouldn't be for too long. They had never been apart for more than a week or two in all the years that they had known one another. The idea of the small, shy girl exploring a planet full of monstrous warriors without him being there to look out for her tied a knot in his stomach. She had wanted to vacation there for a long time, however.

"You'll have to send me some vidlogs," he added, trying to be supportive.

She nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite of her burger.

"I don't know how developed the planet is," she continued, pausing to chew for a moment. "I'm not sure if Borealis has superlight comms, or if anyone but the Navy gets access to them, but I'll keep in touch if I can." She finished off the burger, then began to lick the grease from her furry fingers with her rough tongue, like a cat bathing itself. When they were suitably clean, she started on the little basket of chicken wings. She could really pack it away when she was hungry. "Anyway, I'm not even sure that's what they're planning, but my birthday is coming up soon. Wouldn't that be cool, if Mom and Dad gave me jump liner tickets for my birthday?"

Jamie nodded. He didn't think it was cool, but she was happy, and he didn't want to burst her bubble by being negative. She wouldn't be gone too long, in any case. She couldn't afford to miss too much school, she had a bright academic future ahead of her, she was at the top of her class in exobiology and exolinguistics. She was practically cheating with the intimate knowledge of Borealan language that she had gleaned from sessions with her parents, and she was shaping up to be a diplomat just like them.

"I just hope they don't plan to marry me off to some ladder-climbing socialite," she chuckled, setting down the wing that she was eating as she imitated her mother's deep voice. "Oh Lizka, you must start thinking about your social standing! How will you find a strong mate to sire you a litter if you're at the bottom of the hierarchy?" She laughed at her own joke, then turned her attention back to her meal. "I swear, my parents act like our culture is beyond reproach, but the way they describe pack dynamics makes them sound like...a pack of wild dogs."

She noticed that Jamie was grimacing, giving his leg another tap with her dexterous tail beneath the table.

"I'm only joking, Jamie," she added. "I've read about how Borealans court. Let's just say that it's...not for me."

She finished off her food, then waited for Jamie to drink his float, the two making idle small-talk before paying their bill and heading out.

***

They soon arrived at the residential zone where Liz and her family lived. While most inhabitants of the city lived in apartments in the high-rises, these zones were reserved for the wealthier residents, taking the form of more traditional suburbs. They were still very much inside the limits of the city, close enough to the college that Liz could walk there, but it was a very different style of living.

Rows of identical prefab houses lined the curving streets, packed tightly together, the varying styles of faux-brick and stone doing little to differentiate them from one another. Their bay windows looked out onto sidewalks that were decorated with patches of green grass and carefully-tended shrubs, paved driveways linking them to the road. There were streetlights at intervals, designed to resemble archaic gas lamps, and a few of the houses had small fences to section off their lawns.

They walked along the street until they came upon Liz's house. The residence had been specially constructed for the ambassador and his family by the UN so that they might live comfortably while being close enough to commute to the embassy. It was a strange amalgam of human and alien architecture. The facade that faced the street was of the same rectangular design as the buildings to its left and right, this one decorated to resemble stone, but in place of a gable roof made from asphalt shingles was a dome that rose above the rooftops. The dwelling was visibly larger, too, though not by enough to really make it stand out. It was only upon approaching the front door that one realized it was almost nine feet tall and near twice as wide as it should have been. Jamie knew from experience that the rear of the house, where it was out of view of the street, was even stranger. There were arches made to mimic stone that led out into the garden, and there wasn't a window to be seen anywhere.

Liz led him up the driveway, her father opening the door to greet them on the porch. He was so tall and broad-shouldered that he completely filled the doorway. Jamie was big for his age, but the Borealan dwarfed him at eight feet and change, his biceps alone the size of a human head. It was so hard to imagine Liz ever growing into something even approaching this. Like his daughter, her father had skin the color of caramel, with a long mane of blonde hair that made him look somewhat like a lion standing on its hind legs. His wife had a lighter complexion, with red hair that bordered on orange, but she didn't seem to be home yet.

He sported an open-necked tunic made from blue, floaty fabric, and shorts that ended at his knees to expose his furry legs. It was all embroidered with fine threads of gold and red, creating decorative geometric patterns.

"Greetings, James," he boomed in his strange, rolling accent. His baritone voice was almost deep enough to make Jame's teeth chatter. "Come, drink with me before you go. Long has it been since last we spoke."

"Oh, sure," Jamie replied. Her father had a very commanding presence, it was hard to deny such a request.

"Dad," Liz complained. "Jamie is tired! He's been running track all day."

"Nonsense," her father rumbled, stepping aside to let the pair pass. "Five minutes is all I ask."

She turned to give Jamie an apologetic smile as she made for the stairs at the end of the hall, already shrugging off her book bag.

The interior of the house hadn't changed since Jamie's last visit. The ceiling was tall enough to be comfortable for the eight-foot aliens, and the hall was double the width of what one might expect in a regular house. The floor was carpeted in a shade of deep red, and upon first glance, it seemed as though the same was true of the walls. There was scarcely an inch of paneling that wasn't covered over by an elaborate tapestry, each one depicting some kind of battle or hunt with a stilted, archaic perspective. Borealan hunters chased down alien game, and feline warriors fired powder rifles at one another, all intricately woven from colorful threads. There were busts of Borealans made from imitation marble, too, sitting atop pedestals at intervals. They might be kings or generals, Jamie had never asked.

Liz's father led him into their living room, the completely standard layout of their house at odds with the alien artifacts that adorned it. It was decorated much the same way as the hallway, tapestries hanging on the walls, a vintage rifle that resembled an oversized musket mounted on a plaque above the hearth. Holographic flames flickered, the heating element doing a fair job of mimicking the warmth of a roaring fire. There were no armchairs, no couch, as Borealans preferred to sit on the floor when they were relaxing. Liz's father gestured for him to take a seat in a pile of plush cushions in one corner of the room, and he obliged, sinking into the rat's nest of silk pillows.

The imposing Borealan retrieved a dusty bottle from a wood cabinet, beginning to pour him a glass of pink liquid. After pouring another for himself, he joined Jamie in the pile, his weight shaking the floor as he sat down. There was a low coffee table nearby, at least by Borealan standards, and he set the two vials on it.

"Do not worry," he began, his voice resonating in Jamie's very bones. "I know that you are not yet old enough to drink, but this is a delicacy from our homeworld, it has lower alcohol content than your beer. Our people are not exactly big drinkers."

Jamie reached out and lifted the glass, giving it a sniff before taking a tentative sip. It tasted like strawberry juice, there was scarcely a hint of alcohol.

"I wanted to offer you my thanks," the Borealan continued, Jamie sparing him a glance.

"What for, sir?"

"You have been a good friend to my daughter," he said, his claws clicking against his glass as he raised it to his lips. "A good packmate, not that the term would mean much to you. She tells us sometimes of...difficulties at her school, but you are always there to help her when we cannot be. This, I appreciate."

"It's really no trouble," Jamie replied sheepishly. "We've known each other for a long time."

"She is a late bloomer," he said, staring into the fire. "She was the smallest of her litter, a runt, which is why we brought her to this place rather than leaving her in the company of her siblings. She would not have fared well back home. Still, she will soon grow. I think that she does not yet understand what that will mean for her. She has much to learn about our way of life."

Jamie didn't really know what to say, it was an odd conversation, so he took another sip of his drink. Liz soon appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she glanced between the two of them.

"Dad pulled out the hair-raiser?" she asked. "What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," her father said, rising to his feet. "Come, Lizka. Your mother will be home soon, we should start preparing our meal."

That was Jamie's cue to leave, and he stood up, thanking her father for the drink before making his way to the door. Liz accompanied him to the porch, whispering once her father was out of earshot.

"What did Dad want to talk to you about?"

"Nothing much," he replied with a shrug, pausing at the bottom of the steps. "He just thanked me for looking out for you."

"Maybe he's getting sentimental in his old age," she chuckled. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," she added, waving to him through the crack in the door as she slowly closed it. Jamie waved back, then set off down the street at a brisk jog, the setting sun staining the sky in shades of pink and orange.

CHAPTER 2: SEPARATION ANXIETY

Jamie raced around the oval track that ringed the college sports field, his sneakers kicking up dust as they pounded against the ground. The weather was becoming cooler as winter approached, but he was dressed in his shorts and mesh vest regardless. If he got too cold, he would just run faster.

As he rounded a bend, he saw a solitary figure sitting in the empty bleachers, cradling a book bag in their arms. It took him a moment to recognize her due to the pink beanie that she was wearing, but it was Liz.

Curious. He hadn't seen her around school that day. They hadn't spoken since he had walked her home the previous afternoon, in fact.

He turned towards her, crossing the grass and quickly mounting the steps, flopping down onto the bench beside her. He was drenched in sweat, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm as he caught his breath.

"Hey, Liz," he panted. "Not seen you around today, what's up?"

She gave no reply, clutching her bag with her mittens, her face buried in it. This wasn't like her at all. He put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a nudge.

"Liz, are you okay? Did something happen?"

She turned her head to look up at him, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks stained with tears. She looked just like she had on the day that they had met, frightened, upset. Liz let her bag fall from her arms, the flap flying open, her beloved textbooks spilling free. Sheets of paper fluttered away on the cold breeze as she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him as she pushed her face into his chest, his shirt muffling her miserable wail. He put one arm around her back, cradling her head in his hand, holding her as she cried it out. Her chest heaved as she sobbed, Jamie giving her a minute, waiting for her to tire herself out before he asked her any more questions.

"What on Earth is wrong, Liz?" he finally asked. "Has someone been giving you a hard time?"

"N-no," she replied, her voice choked off between sniffles. "Oh Jamie, we're going back to Borealis..."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked, perplexed. "You kept telling me how excited you were to visit."

"We're not visiting," she wailed, fat tears brimming in her green eyes again as she glanced up at him. "My parents are moving back, and I have to go with them."

Jamie felt like someone had plunged a knife into his heart, stopping it dead, his blood running cold as he held his distraught friend in his arms.

"You're not...coming back?" he asked, scarcely believing what he was hearing.

"Dad is done here," she continued, wiping her eyes with her pink mittens. It was a futile gesture, fresh tears soon replacing them. "My parents don't have a reason to stay now that his employment period with the UN has ended. They want to take me home," she said, spitting that last word as though it were a curse. Jamie understood how she felt. Earth was her home, not some alien planet that she had never even set foot on. "They said that I was too young to stay here on my own," she continued, a blend of exhaustion and anger making her tremble. "Mom said that I need to learn to be 'a proper Borealan', like there's something wrong with how I act right now."

Jamie felt tears welling in his own eyes, but he did his best to fight them back. It wouldn't make Liz feel any better if he started crying too. He patted her on the back through the padding of her heavy winter coat, trying to calm her down.

"Don't they understand that you're happy here?" he asked. "You have friends, you're doing so well in school, don't they care about any of that? What about your studies?"

She shook her head, her long, sandy hair falling over her shoulders.

"They only care about their stupid culture. I don't care about packs and status, I just...I just want to stay here, with you."

"Did they tell you when you're supposed to be leaving?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Three days," she replied, her lower lip starting to tremble. Damn, they really had sprung this on her suddenly. Perhaps they had anticipated her reaction. Jamie wasn't the kind of person who judged foreign cultures at face value, but it seemed harsh by any metric, to tear her away from everything that she had ever known with so little warning.

"Maybe I can talk some sense into them?" he suggested, grasping at whatever straws he could. "I could try to change their minds, make them see things from a more human perspective?"

"No," she insisted, placing a gloved hand on his chest. "My reaction made my parents angry enough, they won't listen to reason. Dad likes you, I don't want you two falling out."