Hello friends and welcome to Sleep Tight Stories. Blue has done all the homework he needed to do, some more than once, and now he is bored. He knows there are certain things he is not supposed to do, and when he starts following his mom around, she suggests a walk. Blue heads to the park and sees something different. The Chronicles of Blue Blue makes a friend. Blue had finished his weekend homework three times already. The first time he got everything perfect. Boring. The second time he aimed for 95%, way harder than it looked. You had to know which answers to get wrong without making it obvious you knew better. The third time he tried for an 87%. That took actual strategy. Now he was following his mom around the house because there was literally nothing else to do. She was writing formulas on paper at the kitchen table, then shredding them in the special shredder they kept for Martian work. Keeping secrets safe. She was also attempting to bake something that smelled...interesting. Not bad, just interesting. The third variable should be exponential, not logarithmic, Blue said, looking over her shoulder. His mom stopped writing, looked at him, then at the formula, then back at him. Why don't you go for a walk? Her tone meant you'd better go for a walk. Blue grabbed his jacket. Blue walked through the park, cataloging the different types of plants and trees. Most were just sticks and stuff now, winter was coming, which made identifying plants way harder. That's when he saw the poodle. Small, curly-haired, sitting alone near a tree. No owner anywhere. Blue stopped. He remembered what the AID had told them during orientation. Dogs and cats often acted weird around Martians, something about their energy being different. Dogs would growl, cats would hiss. That's why Martian families didn't keep pets. But this dog just looked...lonely. Blue approached slowly, tried the calls he'd heard humans use. Here boy, come here. Felt completely ridiculous. The dog's tail started wagging, it let out a playful bark. Okay then. Blue sat down on the cold ground next to it and started petting its head. The dog leaned into his hand, making a happy sound. The funny thing about dogs is they can't talk back. They don't understand human life or Martian life or any of the complicated stuff. But they're really good listeners. Blue scratched behind the dog's ears. Hi dog, my name's Blue, what's your name? The dog whined. Blue laughed, is that dog language? Blue kept petting the dog, looking around to make sure no one was nearby. The park was pretty empty, just some people walking way off in the distance. I lived just over there, not far from here. He pointed vaguely toward his neighborhood. Pause. But I wasn't born here, I'm from...away, like they say in this town. The dog rolled onto its back, legs in the air. Blue smiled and started rubbing its belly. If they knew just how far away, they'd be shocked. Or scared, or maybe they'd send me to a doctor. He laughed at his own joke. The dog's tail thumped against the ground. I'm kind of bored, like all the time. School is too easy. More tail thumping. My sister's a pain. I mean, I've actually made more friends than her, but they're all busy doing boring earth stuff on weekends. The dog made a snuffling sound, wiggling for more belly rubs. So here I am, Saturday afternoon, petting a stray stinky dog on cold ground in the park. The dog's tail stopped. No offense, you're not that stinky. Tail wagging resumed and blue grinned. He looked around again, then lowered his voice, even though there was literally no one nearby. But what else is a Martian transplant going to do? He froze. Oops, did I just say that out loud? The dog just kept enjoying the belly rubs, completely unbothered. If I'm not careful, the AID will show up wearing their black sunglasses and give me another lecture. The importance of secrecy blue, blah, blah, blah. The dog yawned. Exactly. So many rules. They won't even let me hack into Earth's computer systems anymore. Do you know how happy everyone would be if we had free pizza in the cafeteria every day? Like everyone would love it. Well, almost everyone. I'm not sure Red likes pizza. She doesn't like to eat animals, but then neither do I, but pizza doesn't really count, right? The dog's eyes were getting sleepy. Certainly the school board wouldn't like it, but still. Blue shifted to sit cross-legged. The dog immediately put its head in his lap. When I lived on Mars, oops, did I say that again? He smirked, looking around dramatically like a spy in a movie. When I lived there, I was never bored. Teachers actually prescribed board time because we had so much learning to do. Can you imagine? Too much learning? That was the problem. The dog's breathing was slowing down, getting rhythmic. Even little kids had important chores. Everyone helped keep our habitats running. Everyone contributed something. Quiet moment. Just blue petting the dog, watching its chest rise and fall. Red did art stuff, painting and things. I just wanted to do hard math problems. He paused. I miss that, having hard problems to solve. Red seems bored a lot too, but she has these friends she hangs out with. That's a funny phrase, don't you think? I was taught to say that even though it's more correct to say spend time with. The dog was almost asleep now, warm and content in his lap. You're a good listener, dog. Rosie, Rosie! The dog's ears perked up instantly. Blue looked around and saw an older girl in the distance. High school age maybe, calling and looking around frantically. That you're human? The poodle stood up, suddenly alert. Gave blue one big lick right across the face. That is like a million germs! But he was laughing. The dog's tail wagged so hard its whole back end shook. Go on, she's looking for you. The dog barked once, a happy sound, then took off running toward the girl. Blue watched them reunite. The girl dropped to her knees, hugging the dog, clearly relieved. She didn't even notice blue sitting there on the cold ground about 50 feet away. They walked off together, the girl talking to the dog like it could understand every word. Blue sat alone for another minute. His pants were getting wet from the grass. Mom was definitely going to ask questions about that. He stood up, brushing himself off. Grass stains on his knees. Great. But as he headed toward home, he felt lighter or better for some reason. Like talking to the dog had actually helped. Even if it was just a one-sided conversation with an animal that probably didn't understand half of what he'd said. Less than half. Maybe less than a percent. At least the dog hadn't told him school was challenging or that he should try harder to fit in or any of the other things adults always said. The dog had just listened, which is nice. After taking the long way home, blue came through the front door and went straight to the kitchen. The special disinfectant soap, Martian grade cleaning supplies, sat by the sink. He scrubbed his face thoroughly. Dog saliva contained approximately one million different bacteria. He wasn't sure his immune system was up to the fight. Blue's mom walked in. How was your walk, dear? Blue dried his face with a towel. It was okay. I met a new friend. That's nice. His mom smiled. What's their name? Blue hung up the towel. Didn't catch it, but I told them I was from Mars. He walked toward his room casually. His mom froze. You what? Blue stopped at the doorway grinning back at her. Don't worry. They couldn't talk back. He disappeared into his room before she could respond. Blue's mom stood in the kitchen, processing what just happened. Then shook her head, smiling despite herself. That boy. From his room, Blue could hear her laughing. He flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so boring. Maybe he'd go back to the park. Or see about getting a dog. And that is the end of our story. Good night. Sleep tight. Good night.
