1/2 A YEAR AFTER TO BE, SARAH IS A FRESHMAN IN HIGH SCHOOL

One pair of dirty sneakers slowly treaded down the hall filled with new, fashionable shoes that were not well suited to navigating crowded halls during the four minutes between classes.

The rushing figure wore plain, comfortable jeans. Not hip-huggers or bell-bottoms. They were not excessively tight nor did they reveal underwear. They were secured at her hips by a blue camouflage belt, an object as foreign to her classmates as calamari or alim’to was to their diets.

She wore a large, loose t-shirt that did not reveal her shapely figure; she would rather that someone would notice her talents and abilities than her body.

She stepped into the room at the end of the hall on the third story and crossed to her assigned desk in the front corner of the room by the window. This was where she was supposed to be, but it didn’t seem like where she belonged. All the people in her class looked older than her; she didn’t know a one. They seemed to have a different set of values than the people she had talked to the previous year her old school. These all looked like tenth graders. She felt like someone swimming in piranha-infested waters – reveal a weakness, an imperfection and they’d be on you in seconds, eating you alive, stripping flesh off your bones, destroying you until they reached the solid core of your being if you had one. She wondered if one of her friends had that solid core, her friend who resembled one of these piranhas, but out of water. She doubted it.

All her work to get here, put in a class with the boy who always took up a whole seat on the crowded bus that took her back to the small town where she lived in the suburbs of a large city. She knew he wasn’t above sabotaging half the seat so that he could sleep across it on the way to school; he had done it the day before.

She shook her head. She was different than everyone else in the school, and it annoyed her sometimes. She did not need to be here; she knew most of it already. Math seemed like such a simple thing now, ever since she’d been kidnapped the previous year. That one event had changed her life forever, and it was the reason why she had moved to Colorado Springs after finishing eighth grade. Of course, she couldn’t talk about it with anyone except her one friend back in Pennsylvania; the military had deemed it classified. She wasn’t lonely, however. The very being who whispered the answers to math problems and explanations could never leave her. The two were closer than sisters anyway.

Class started and she suffered through the forty minutes of administrative stuff that was always present during the first few days of school. After a few minutes, a feeling surfaced within her, though it was not her own: shock at the redundancies of the school, the repetition of rules and dress codes. She could tell that the other thought that these adults should have it better organized so that the same things would only be repeated once and then they could get on with learning. After all, hadn’t they done this the previous day?

Finally, the bell buzzed and she took her belongings to her German class two floors down. Here, they were required to have at least two years of a foreign language to graduate. She wondered why she had to also; she could already speak proficient ancient Egyptian, known to her by another name.

She took her seat in German class and fought the sudden urge to burst out, venting her frustration in an Ancient Egyptian dialect.

***

Again, she sat, this time in the bright, high-ceilinged room used for a cafeteria. So many tables had been crammed into it that three square feet of empty space existed only in the front; scooting a chair back would block at least half of the aisle.

She did not know whose table she had sat at; they had only been in school for one day. When she saw a group of tough-looking boys approaching, she tensed, teh other one scolding her as she did so. Once they passed, she looked pu from the most interesting blank spot on her tray to see a dark-haired, Chinese-looking girl standing over her table.

"Mind if I sit here, Sarah?" asked her next door neighbor as she took a seat.

"Not at all, Jane," she replied, glad to have new company, someone her own age.

"So how's your day going?"

"Oh," Sarah replied, "not bad. It's been boring." Then an urge rose up within her; it had been so long, she barely remembered it. The other being took control of her body, easily overcoming Sarah's instinct to struggle for it. Momentarily, she felt a burning in her eyes similar to the pain when she got shampoo in her eyes. Immediately, the other realized that she wasn't allowed to speak and relinquished control of her host.

Meanwhile, Jane had taken a seat, but now sat as far away from her classmate as the other chairs crowded around the table would allow.

Sarah glanced around quickly to see that no one else had seen her eyes flash with a golden light.

Jane's eyes hadn't left her new-found friend. "Sarah, what was that?"

Sarah shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that. My contacts reflect light from a certain angle."

The younger freshman looked doubtful, but did not pursue the subject. "So, what class do you have next?"

"Typing class," replied Sarah, contempt clear in her voice.

A slight giggle escaped from Jane; she knew her friend could already type better than any of her other acquaintences.

The remainder of lunch was pleasant for both of them, but when the bell rang, dread filled both of them as they hurried off to their seventh period classes.

***

Sarah hurried to her house from the bus stop, rushed inside, and locked the door behind her. As she leaned heavily against the sturdy door, she found herself again thinking of what had happened at lunch. She couldn't believe her symbiote had been that careless; even when they were on base, surrounded by others like them, she usually ducked her head before taking control to hide the flashy eyes that were much too Goa'uld-like.

Sarah sighed, glad that she had come up with a half-believable excuse for once. Reflecting contacts? What was I thinking? she wondered as she made her way to her room. She opened the door, the only barrier to keep the dog from destroying her stuff, and nearly jumped out of her skin when her eyes fell upon the short, grey-tan form standing beside her bed amidst all the stuff strewn about the floor.

She remembered being told about the creatures and that they were normally pleasant to be around. Despite that, however, she felt fear rise within her.

Without preamble, the creature spoke. "you are in direct violation of the Protected Planets Treat."

"Am not!"

The other did not respond to this, but seemed taken aback, more than Sarah would expect for a simple "Am not"-"Are too" argument. Then she realized that she, the host, had spoken, not the symbiote.

For better or worse, she let Vinnet speak. "You are mistaken; we are in violation of no treaties."

"There are to be no Goa'uld on this planet at any time," declared the Asgard, looking up at the fourteen-year-old's face.

Vinnet sighed. "And so there are currently no Goa'uld on Earth; I am a Tok'ra."