Page 59 of I'm Not Your Pet

“Goodnight,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “Sweet dreams.”

The more I learned about huu-mans the more fascinating they became as a species. There were many things that intrigued me—too many to keep track of. For example, the fact some of them chose to go to expensive specialized schools called “caw-lege.” At home on Osheania, we had our own schools, but attendance was required and cost nothing. It was our society’s way of ensuring people could get into whatever career they desired. The most similar thing I’d discovered in huu-man culture was something Ushuu had called an “internship.”

They had seasons on Earth, and every area on the planet had different temperatures and weather. And yet—instead of evolving in the north so they had more fur to keep themselves warm, huu-mans came up withinventionsandclothingto combat the chill.

Ushuu showed me pictures of many things.

Many things that helped me understand my own little huu-man better.

Things that helped me appreciate him in entirely new, unexpected ways.

Huu-mans displayed their personalities through their choices of clothing. A lot of them relied solely on accessories and colors to project what sort of mate they desired. They hung out in flocks, with huu-mans who wore similar clothing, who liked similar things, who listened to similar music.

Most fascinating of all, however, was the custom huu-mans called “pets.”

We had animals on my home planet. The Fruhg for example. Large amphibious creatures that lived in the country and made this awfulribbitsound when you got too close. Their webbed feet and flippers had never struck me as anything other than necessary for their survival. I’d certainly never found them cute. I couldn’t imagine taking one inside my home and keeping it as a companion.

And yet, huu-mans did that very thing.

With a whole variety of creatures.

So many I couldn’t recall all of their names, though visions of furry four-legged beasts had haunted me all week.

Did Huu-goh miss “beanies,” “coffee,” and “phones”?

I wondered if he’d evenhadany of those things.

What about his family? Did he have one? As an orphan, the thought had simply not occurred to me until Ushuu brought it up. Did he miss the holidays widely celebrated across his planet? Did he miss “autumn” and “summer” and “TV”?

The idea of seeing Huu-goh dressed in one of the fluffy marshmallow-looking outfits Ushuu had shown me made me ache something fierce. He had called them “puffer coats” and I’d beenenamored.

Did he wish he had a dawg?

Or a kaat?

As I finished packing up work for the day, these thoughts plagued me. All week, as I’d worked throughout the day, Huu-goh occupied my thoughts.

My mind would drift from reality, and I would imagine what his life had been like before he’d been taken. It was easy to forget the threats outside the ship, and even the course we were on, when Huu-goh filled my head.

I despaired for him on more than one occasion. Because learning about his culture only made it more obvious that I could not give him even a fraction of what he’d lost from his home planet. There were some things, however, that I could.

I made a detour to the lab where I’d been spending my nights, determined to give Huu-goh something he could keep. A hobby—or…I don’t know. Things to occupy his time while we remained space-borne. I’d been half-tempted to bring him with me all day, but I knew while that would be fun—for both of us—it didn’t give him any sort of autonomy to be forced to follow me around.

He needed his own things.

When Huu-goh had hit the light switch it had frightened me. But I’d tried to put those thoughts behind me. Moving forward was the only way to outrun the shadows in my head—and I had goals that were more important than the fear that lived beneath my skin.

That didn’t erase its existence, but acknowledging it was there, and that I was choosing to move past it, helped.

The second we’d been plunged into darkness together, memories of my teenage years on this very ship burned through my retinas. For a moment all I’d smelled was blood. I could hear the wheeze of Captain’s chest. Could feel the wet-damp blood on my hands, the weak tug of his tendrils trying to soothe me, even though he was dying.

When the lights came back on, and I’d processed that I was not there—but here, with Huu-goh, I was reminded once again of the fear I’d felt when I’d taken him onboard. When I’d lockedhim in our rooms, terrified he’d be hurt the same way I’d seen others hurt before.

I hated losing control, and for a moment I had.

I’d been just a boy again.

Terrified.

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