The Blender’s Bargain – Chapter 1

Archie

The ancient artifacts in this museum have been buried for centuries, but that’s nothing compared to what David has dug up from the depths of his nostrils. I close my eyes, let out a long-suffering breath, and tip my head back. There’s always one kid in the group who has to make a field trip into an exercise in patience.

It’s okay, Archie. It’s Friday and almost summer vacation. I just need to hang on a little longer and then sweet, sweet time off will be all mine.

As our museum guide prattles on about Lataran history, I watch in dismay as David’s finger embarks on yet another mining expedition into his nose. I stifle a sigh, wondering how an eight-year-old can find so much to excavate up there.

Ugh. Why did I think becoming a teacher was a good idea?

Don’t get me wrong, I love each and every one of my third-graders, but spending a day with thirty-five kids hyped up on fruit snacks in a museum is enough to make anyone question their career choice. Some days I feel more like an archaeologist than a teacher, sifting through snippets of knowledge and debris of snack foods to uncover any signs of learning in these uncharted young minds.

And right now, the only thing David seems to have discovered on this field trip is how deep his nasal cavity extends. He’s going to end up touching his brain if he keeps this up.

I approach David from the back, place my hand on his shoulder, and lean down.

“David, pay attention,” I say, and drop my voice, “and keep your finger out of your nose.”

He jumps, startled by my sudden appearance, and yanks his finger from his nose, flashing me a guilty grin. I shake my head, trying to suppress a smile.

Kids will be kids, after all.

The museum is a vast expanse of white marble and whitewashed walls, splashed with vibrant colors from the ancient artwork on display. From tapestries to sculptures to paintings, the museum is alive with culture and history. I actually love coming here. History is my favorite subject. But I prefer to come alone so I can amble through the halls and take my time reading all the plaques.

A low hum of conversation percolates throughout the museum, punctuated by occasional whispers of awe or wonder at the artifacts on display. My gaze falls on a display case across the room. It holds a set of beautifully crafted Lataran swords, ancient weapons wielded by the planet’s original inhabitants.

The guide gestures at the display case. “Come, take a look. These swords were forged many years ago by the Latarans, the earliest known inhabitants of this region. We have discovered very little about these ancient people, though we believe they were masters of metalworking, as evidenced by artifacts like these swords.”

The students crowd around the case, oohing and aahing. Their faces glow with wonder and curiosity about these mysterious ancient people who lived so long ago. All except for David, who is once again exploring the cave of wonders that is his left nostril.

For crying out loud. He is testing my patience today.

I sidle up to David again. “The Latarans were warriors, you know,” I say. “Legend says they were so fierce, they used swords like these to pick their noses.”

David’s finger slowly withdraws from his nose. That’s right, buddy. I’m watching.

I have to cover my mouth to hide a grin. A little imagination goes a long way with third-graders.

Teaching third grade is no less exhausting than wrangling two dozen overexcited puppies most days. But despite the sore feet, aching backs, and the thrill of breaking up yet another argument brewing by the water fountain, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

Still, I’m excited for my date tonight. I need a break from these kids.

The guide continues, “Though the Latarans have long since disappeared, we’re left with many unanswered questions about their civilization. Where did they come from? What caused their downfall? What was life like for them so many centuries ago?” Her face is exaggerated with awe, wide eyes and an open mouth. The kids are enthralled. She spreads her hands. “Sadly, we may never know. They remain an enigma, a mystery lost to the ravages of time.”

‘Ravages of time?’ I’ll have to explain that phrase later.

A girl in the front row, Jenny, raises her hand. “Did the Latarans live near here?”

The guide shakes her head. “No, most Lataran settlements were found in the interior, in the foothills of the mountains. The Latarans seemed to prefer inhabiting landlocked regions, though we’re uncertain why.”

Jenny furrows her brow. “Then how did their artifacts end up here in Stellura?”

It’s a good question, one I’ve wondered about myself.

The guide smiles. “An excellent observation. The artifacts we have on display were likely obtained through trade with other tribes and civilizations. The Latarans were believed to be active traders, bartering goods with cultures across vast distances.”

“What kinds of things did they trade?” Jenny asks. My heart swells — there is nothing quite like seeing a student’s eyes light up with the joy of learning.

The guide gestures to the display case. “They traded tools, weapons, pottery, and cloth. In exchange, they likely obtained wood, stone, and foods that were scarce in the mountains. Trade was essential for the Latarans and allowed different cultures to thrive.”

Jenny’s eyes gleam as she takes this new knowledge in. I lean over to her and whisper, “Keep asking good questions. You’re going to discover more about the Latarans than the experts have figured out.”

She grins, pride and excitement written across her face as her hand shoots up once more.

“Did the Latarans have any enemies?” she asks.

The guide hums. “We don’t know much about how they lived their lives or how their entire race died out. Archaeologists are uncovering new artifacts all the time, though. Maybe someday soon we’ll know more.”

I look over the tops of the students’ heads to Clara, my good friend and the other third-grade teacher in our school. She rolls her eyes. We’re all tired and weary from a long week that ends with a field trip.

The guide sighs and opens her arm to usher the students forward. “Since humans only arrived on this planet three hundred years ago, much of Lataran history remains a mystery. We have had to piece together clues from artifacts like these swords, as well as some ancient ruins found in the mountains. These are the oldest humanoid remains ever found on this planet, so we have guessed they may be the first civilization that inhabited this region. But without written records or firsthand accounts, we may never know their true origins.”

The students erupt into chatter at this revelation. Clara catches my eye again, both of us struggling not to smile at their enthusiasm, even if fueled by a desire to stump the docent.

A new hand shoots up — David’s. My heart sinks, but when the guide calls on him, he asks, “If the Latarans disappeared, could there be descendants of them still living in the mountains?”

It’s a good question, but I wish they’d stop asking anything so that we can move on from here. I’m counting the minutes until I can leave the mysteries of third-graders behind for a relaxing evening with Lex. My heart quickens thinking of our last date.

Mmmm…

Oh, I should not be thinking dirty thoughts on a class field trip.

The guide’s eyes widen. “Nope. This planet was empty when we arrived here.” She smiles. “You ask good questions. Perhaps in your lifetime, more clues will be uncovered about the Latarans’ fate.”

David beams under the praise. I stifle a laugh, shaking my head. Leave it to David to surprise me again. His curiosity, it seems, extends well beyond the contents of his nose.

The guide leads us into the next gallery, full of ancient pottery and tools. The students crowd around each display, marveling over every new discovery.

Pottery shards and rusty tools — almost as thrilling as grading papers on a Friday night. I stifle a yawn, wondering if the museum cafeteria sells coffee. Anything to get me through the next hour.

While the kids ask more questions, I’m envisioning a bottle of wine and a bath with bubbles after my date. The secrets of antiquity will have to remain buried in the mountains, at least until I’ve excavated the knots in my back.

The guide explains more mysteries about the ancient Latarans, but after another twenty minutes, the students drag behind. Clara shoots me a look, and I check the clock. Yep. We’re losing them because it’s time to go.

I clap my hands to grab their attention.

“I think it’s time to head to the bus!” I announce.

A cheer goes up, and the students make a beeline for the door. I thank the docent, wishing I could do more than just praise her good cheer. She deserves a medal.

We herd the students to the museum entrance, the promise of fooling around on the bus too tempting for them to deny. As they chatter, waiting in line, Clara slides up next to me.

“So, any big plans for tonight with Lex?”

I laugh. “No big plans. Dinner, drinks, and probably falling asleep early. I’m beat. What about you?”

“Going to bed early as well.” Clara grins. “The adventurous life of two teachers on a Friday night. At least we get the weekend to recover from” — she nods at the students — “all this.”

The line moves forward and kids run to their seats on the bus. Clara and I take the front seats behind the driver. The other chaperones file to the back.

“It may not be adventurous, but at least it’s predictable.” I sigh as I lean back into the seat. “I’ve had just about enough of kids and their unpredictable ways.”

“Well, you chose the right profession, then,” Clara says with a laugh. I laugh as well.

“Yeah, it was a brilliant move on my part.” I glance back and make sure everyone is behaving themselves. “It’s fine. I was always meant to be a teacher. It’s just the end of the year fatigue. Any plans for summer break?”

“None. I’m going to hit the beach every day if I can. You?”

“Hanging out with Dad and the cousins as much as possible. We’ll join you at the beach. But not before the party coming up tomorrow.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “I’m excited to see your new place.”

She smiles. “I can’t wait to have everyone over. You’re going to love the deck. Great spot for watching the stars and the big event. I think just about everyone is coming. You’re bringing Lex?”

“Yep. Looking forward to it,” I say. “The syzygy is a great excuse for a party.”

The bus rumbles down the road, the students’ chatter filling the air. I lean my head back, letting the sounds fade into background noise.

As we rumble through the city streets toward the school, the familiar sights of Stellura roll by outside. Winding canals and graceful bridges arch over waterways that thread through the city center. The hillsides display colorful houses stacked one atop the other, their rooftop gardens blooming under the late afternoon sun. In the distance, the bustling wharves and piers of the harbor are busy, and airplanes circle overhead, waiting in the queue to land outside the city center.

Stellura’s charming and chaotic cobblestone streets are filled with the scents of the sea and spices. It’s been my home for as long as I can remember.

Clara nods. “A planetary alignment like this only happens once every few centuries. Seemed like the perfect excuse to throw a gathering and break in the new deck.”

I grin. “Leave it to you to build a house around the deck.”

“Guilty as charged.” She laughs. “But just wait — you’ll be fighting the cousins for a spot at the rail once you see the view.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I say. I’ve been to enough of Clara’s parties to know if there’s one thing she excels at, it’s choosing a location with a stellar view.

“Are your students excited about the event?” I ask. “Seems like something that would capture their imaginations. My kids haven’t stopped talking about it for weeks now. It’s on the news all the time.”

Clara smiles. “Are you kidding? I never thought third-graders would know the word ‘syzygy.’ They think all those Y’s are super fun.” She laughs. “Half of them asked if we could hold a sleepover on my deck so they don’t miss a single moment.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course, we’re NOT going to do that. An adult party is a better idea.”

I laugh, picturing a herd of overexcited kids descending on Clara’s new house, sleeping bags and snacks in tow, prepared to camp out all night under a sky of shifting celestial wonders. Yeah, definitely not.

“Good idea,” I say. “I’ll enjoy the show from the comfort of a deck chair, glass of wine in hand. I can’t wait.”

Clara grins. “You and me both.”

The bus pulls up to the school, and students come pouring down the aisle, eager to start their weekend. Clara and I gather our things, bracing ourselves for the organized chaos of dismissal.

“Party prep starts tomorrow afternoon,” Clara says. “You’ll come over early to help set up, right?”

I smile, linking my arm through hers as we make our way off the bus. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll bring appetizers and a few bottles of wine.”

Clara squeezes my arm. “Sounds like a plan,” she says.