The elementary school wasn’t large, though the hallways were wide. Viera’s classroom was at the end of the second-grade wing. As she walked through the halls, empty and quiet with the start of summer, a sadness wrapped around her like a cloak, heavy and thick.

The walls were still covered in the students’ artwork. Self-portraits with hopes and dreams, collages of scenes depicting images from books they’d read in class, and family trees with family members drawn on apples hanging from branches of an actual tree.

As she navigated to where teachers taught older students, some of the papers on the walls depicted math and science, others showed music or history. All along the side of the walls were random single shoes or gloves, a lost sock or a hat left behind from winter. All the items that students didn’t want to drag home or think about again.

Most of this would end up in the lost and found or trash, depending on some system the school had in place.

The closer Viera got to the staff lounge, the more voices she heard. I don’t want to go in there. Too many questions I don’t want to answer.

Pulling up her metaphorical big girl undies, she squared her shoulders, and braced herself for the inevitable. After taking one final stabilizing breath, she walked with determination into the room, ready for any sort of cheer, or yell of ‘surprise,’ or general welcome from the other teachers she would no longer see on a daily basis. That was the thing that was making her wary, being the center of attention.

Entering the room, she saw a couple dozen people milling about with small plates overflowing with food. Some people sat at tables, but most stood as if waiting for the bell that told them they could leave. The swish of air behind her told her the doors were closed, but still, no one noticed her enter.

What’s worse, a yell of ‘surprise’ or everyone completely ignoring me?

Viera grunted and headed over to the food. There were two trays, half picked over, with sliced cheddar, Swiss, and pepper jack cheeses. Next to the cheese were crackers, and then sliced sausage. The next tray had fruit: grapes, watermelon, cantaloupe, and strawberries. The final tray had store-bought bite sized-chocolate chip cookies—though most were gone—a plain-looking cookie, and a cake, with only two pieces left.

Pursing her lips, Viera selected two plates, and started to fill them. One with savory, and one with sweet. She started with one of the remaining pieces of cake. It was her party; she almost took them both.

“It said, ‘Sorry to see you go, Ms. Kor, Good Luck!’” Gloria, one of the fourth-grade teachers said, sliding up next to her. “It was lovely. I have a picture. I’ll text it to you. Where were you?”

Viera continued to fill her plate with the two types of cookies, then put that plate down to get some of the rest of the offerings. She figured she only had one trip before it was all gone. “I wasn’t told about this shing-dig until about five minutes ago.”

Gloria grunted. “Of course not. Why not tell the person of the hour about her own party. I should’ve predicted and texted you when you weren’t here or, like, last week when the rest of us were told.”

Frustration threatened to wash through Viera, but this was her last day, and she refused to let this place bring her down. “It’s okay. I’m here now, and if I’d been here at the start, I’d probably have to talk in front of everyone.”

Gloria smiled. “Probably.”

They moved to one of the tables to sit. The cheese and crackers were a good start, and the fruit was fresh.

“Skipping the important part of your good-bye party and crashing it for the food?” Donald flopped in a chair next to Gloria and across from Viera. He taught band to all the grades. His bark was definitely worse than his bite.

“Yep, you know me.” Viera winked at him.

He sat up, elbows on the table, and rested his chin on the back of his intertwined fingers. “You weren’t told, were you? Our fearless leader, for whatever reason, wasn’t going to tell you about this party?”

Viera’s eyes narrowed. “Whose idea was it?”

He smiled wide. “Not telling, but I’m glad she was convinced to collect you. Now, Ms. Kor, tell me, where are you off to? I know you loved working with the kids, and they adored you. Why leave? In trouble with the law? Skipping town? Leaving the country? Marrying rich?” His eyebrows danced as his questions got more and more ludicrous. Or at least, to him they did.

Well, I will be leaving the planet with my very rich girlfriend … but I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about. She clenched her jaw to stop herself from smiling.

“No, nothing like that—”

“Don’t you know? Viera here doesn't go more than fifteen minutes from our fair town. Leaving the state? That will never happen.”

Viera sniffed in annoyance. “I’ll have you know, I’ve taken the kids on field trips to Milwaukee and Chicago. Both those cities are over an hour and a half away. Unless my math is very off, an hour and a half, and three hours are both more than fifteen minutes.”

Viera indicated a free seat when she saw Ryan, another teacher, approaching them.

Gloria scoffed. “Field trips don’t count.”

Ryan, a third-grade teacher, sat down at their table. “If you’re traveling on a bus with a bunch of elementary kids, it counts double.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” Viera said, smiling at the other teacher. I hope he ends up with most of my students. “Now, as wonderful as all this is, most of the people have left since I’ve arrived and only you three even noticed me. All of you have my number; don’t be strangers.”

They all hugged, and Viera headed back to her classroom to gather her purse, keys, and last box.

After dreaming of teaching, going to school to be a teacher, and spending the last several years teaching, Viera never thought she wouldn’t teach. Her heart ached for the end of this piece of her life. She knew … she knew this was the right decision. It still hurt. Each step was heavier than the last as she made her way to the car.

This is it. I’m leaving and I won’t be a teacher anymore.

Chapter 4 - Bye, And Thanks For All The Sushi

Thorn

Thorn knew she had it easier than most elementary school kids’ parents. It was the last day of school and Scout would be home in about an hour. He wasn’t really the eight years he looked, not with her people’s slow aging. He was really twenty-three. That didn’t mean he acted twenty-three, though; he was very mature compared to the other eight-year-olds he played with, but he was still just a kid.

Unlike the other parents of the kids in his class, if she wanted to leave Scout home alone, she had no worries that he could care for himself. They had the electronic panel that produced food by request. She’d asked Juniper, one of the ship's technical experts, to add restrictions on the food types he could select. He could also entertain himself for an evening. She sometimes asked Horax, the ship's tactical officer and engineer, to watch Scout. He could do anything and loved the boy almost as much as she did.

Checking over the evacuation plans on a hand-held tablet, Thorn massaged her temples. When the krottel invaded her planet, Abritos, and her people were scattered, about a million ended up on Earth. Now that the Elders declared the Abritos needed to be given back, the overall turnover time was set for roughly two Earth years. As Commander and leader of her people, Thorn had a mission. She and the Pillars wanted to keep the Earthlings ignorant of aliens. That said, the chanzii planned on gradually evacuating, not wanting to make their exodus obvious.

Time was of the essence. Thorn clicked some symbols on her panel, and after a few moments, Violet North’s face popped up on her screen. The other woman had selected a petite blond human appearance with sea blue eyes. “Afternoon, Commander Firoza. To what do I owe the honor of your call?”

“I’m updating my spreadsheets. How many chanzii have left the planet? How has the evacuation been going in your area?”

Violet smiled, eyes darting to the left. “We’ve had just under thirty-thousand evacuate in the first wave. Many of our people have been itching to leave. Staying in an altered form has been rough.”

Thorn rubbed her nose. “Shouldn’t we be aiming for closer to fifty-thousand chanziian each month if we’re hoping to evacuate a million of our people in twenty-four months?”

There was a gusty sigh. “Yes, but we need a place for the people to go.”

Thorn’s monitor beeped. She checked the name of the incoming call. “Violet, I’m going to bring Major Shifts into our conversation. I want his update as well, and hearing this directly will save me time.”

Her face lit up at the honor of being invited into the call.

Thorn tapped her panel and the Major’s stern turquoise face framed in flowing dark purple hair popped onto the screen. I miss my natural shape! His brilliant green eyes shone with concern. “Major Shifts, Commander Firoza here. I have Violet North on the line. She was updating me on the evacuation of Earth, but we can circle back to that after the Abritos update. I mean, we need a place for the chanzii to go so the planet is our highest priority.”

His face scrunched up. “Well, ma’am, that’s just it, we may need to change our timelines.”

Anger spiked through Thorn. “Are the damn bugs refusing to leave? I swear I will round up the freaking Elders and drag them by their horns to make them force those creatures from our planet!” She could see red, she was so mad.

Major Shift's eyes widened as she ranted. His hands lifted and he shook his head. “Wait, no. That’s not what I meant. We need to be careful, but I’m not sure if there are any bugs left on the planet. If the krottel are really all gone, we can start sending in crews to rebuild. Our timelines can be moved up, not back.”

For a moment, Thorn was flabbergasted, unsure how to react.

Violet, who had been quiet up until then, giggled. “Apparently their evacuation strategy is as rapid as their invasion.”