“You’ll see!” Just a few minutes later they were standing at the door of a large clear geodesic dome. Jal had seen domes, but none of them had so many windows. The metal ones were typically used for livestock (except for the one he had lived in with Haerm and Geldou). Jal looked up and counted the levels.

“Five,” it thought. “This is amazing!”

A middle-aged man answered the door with a smile, “Eiske, my old friend!”

“Don’t say ‘old,’ Dirk. That makes me feel old.”

“Come in,” Dirk welcomed them.

“Dirk, I will come right to the point and not waste your time. This is Jal Jomari, and I was hoping we could teach him how to be more comfortable in an outdoor setting. You are the best outdoorsman I know. Would you consider going with us for a few days?”

“Marliene!” Dirk yelled as loudly as he could.

“What?” she hollered back.

“Please come down to the front door!”

She clattered down the wooden steps, followed closely by two boys. “Must you shout, Dirk?”

“Yes. I didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry.”

“You woke Krisje.”

He apologized again. “Eiske and his friend have asked me to teach them outdoors skills sometime this week.”

“It’s World Health Day Saturday. Adrien and Arjan are planning to race. You could go the following day,” she suggested. “The boys would be in school, Maandag, but they could handle the chores.”

“We’ll handle the chores, Dad. Please don’t make us go camping!”

“All right. I’ll go with you Eiske. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Jal. He’s visiting from Ridali Tower.”

“Hey, Jal, you are one tall fellow!” Adrien said admiringly.

“I have an idea!” Arjan dashed out of the room and came right back with his electronic pad. “Look at this, Jal! There’s a race on Saturday, and I bet you could win it! You’re the tallest person I’ve ever met, and I’ll bet you have a really long stride. Somebody needs to beat Obbe, Kleis, and Kryn Bron. I’m tired of listening to them brag about winning. Please consider joining us.” He handed Jal the pad.

Jal looked it over. “Melle, Obbe and Kleis Brown?” He mispronounced the name on purpose. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“Please join us. Arjan and I are both running. Even if we don’t win, it'll be fun! There are all kinds of activities downtown.”

“You don’t have to register ahead of time. You can just show up and register then!” Arian urged Jal.

Jal wasn’t sure about this. It passed the pad to Eiske. Jal loved to run. A race would be fun, but he would beat them; there was no doubt in its mind. It looked at the prize listed. One hundred mu-toc, a rooster, and four laying hens. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for sharing the information.”

“We’ll look for you around 09:30. The race starts at 10:00. There’ll be tons of people since its for the whole district, so get right in line.”

That evening Jal considered the offer. It didn’t tell Eiske that it wanted to beat the Bron brothers. It didn't really care about the currency. Eiske and Jal discussed it and Jal decided to race.

Saturday was cloudy and cool. A crowd surrounded the sign-in table as Eiske and Jal joined the line. Six runners had already signed up. Jal filled in the spaces on the form and took it to Eiske so it could be signed by an adult. He reminded Jal that it was considered an adult and could sign it. Jal signed the form and returned it to the person at the table.

When the official called for the runners, they lined up at the start line. She explained that the racetrack was marked with flags. Runners that deviated from the course would be disqualified. Anyone pushing or shoving anyone else would be disqualified. Runners would go to the end of the track and return.

Jal saw Obbe and Kleis look at each other and guessed there would be trouble of some sort. When runners took a starting position, Jal copied them. At the crack of the gun, runners went forward and Obbe tripped sideways. He knocked two runners over and caught Jal’s foot. Jal’s tongue shot out from its mouth, snapping Obbe in the nose. It shook its foot loose and scrambled to catch up to the pace of the runners who had taken off more quickly. An official blew a whistle, declared that Obbe was disqualified, and stopped the runners. The remaining runners were forced to step apart, and the runners took off a second time. This time, Kleis ran at an angle and tripped in front of several runners, who tried to leap over him. Kleis was disqualified, and the runners lined up again.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“No more shenanigans or this race will be cancelled," an official warned.

Jal watched Kryn as they took off with the group. The two maintained a steady pace to the turn-around point. An official watched as it touched the barrier and started back. As Jal ran, its stride lengthened. The other runners couldn’t catch up. Some of them were already winded because of the fast pace. Jal slowed down, drawing even with Kryn, who was in the second position. About four hundred meters from the finish line, Jal pretended to be winded, then suddenly shot forward and crossed the finish line ahead of the other runners.

There was a cheer from the crowd and officials came in from the track. Jal was pushed forward by the crowd to receive the prize. When it saw Solrio, Jal smiled. “Good job, Jal!” She picked up a small trophy and an envelope to present to Jal when a voice rang out.

“I challenge the results of this race!” It was Haerm Bron.

Solrio recognized him immediately. “On what basis?”

“Un-sportsmanshiplike behavior!”

“Please define what exactly you are referring to.”

“That’s Syp Bron. Syp snapped my son Obbe with her long ugly tongue! She should be disqualified!”

The officials gathered in a group away from the crowd. They discussed the fact that Obbe had fallen and knocked several other contestants off their feet. Obbe had disqualified himself, by intentionally tripping them. Obbe had disqualified himself before Jal had supposedly touched its tongue to his forehead. Solrio returned to the platform and Jal returned to her side. People began grumbling and booing.

“What seems to be the problem here? If there is a problem, issue a challenge!”

Geldou Bron stepped forward. “This race is intended for boys. That’s a girl.”

“Nowhere in the rules does it state that you must be a boy to run.”

She tried again. “This person is a freak. She should not be running races not intended for her. She isn’t a resident of Pencadick Rill! She’s a freak!”

“She’s a freak!” Thys yelled. "Freak, freak, freak!"

The crowd began to chant, “Freak, freak, freak!”

Again, the officials conferred. One pulled Jal to the side. He asked Jal for its identity papers. The group looked them over. The crowd continued to shout, “Syp is a freak! Freak, freak, freak.”

“This is a child,” one official said to the others. “All of its documents state that it is Jal Jomari. Five years old. Meets the age qualification.”

“This identity card indicates that it is a registered Stafriez.”

“It’s living with Sage Elvan, and Ridali Tower is within our district. Attending Stafriez Academy. Meets the qualifications of residency and school attendance.”

“Its gender is not stated. Nowhere in the rules does it state that you must be a boy to run.”

Solrio stepped back to the table. She lifted the trophy high. Kryn Bron pushed his way forward. Solrio shouted, “The officials declare the winner to be Jal Jomari!”

“That’s Syp Bron,” someone complained.

“We have looked at Jal’s identity papers. Jal Jomari meets all the qualifications required to run this race. Jal is the winner.” Solrio handed the envelope of currency to Jal. “Please pick up your poultry before you leave.”

“Thank you!” Jal said. Its eyes flashed bright blue to match its blue hair.

“Good job!” Solrio whispered.

Someone spoke, “The child is a Stafriez.”

A murmur went through the crowd. “The child is a Stafriez. A Stafriez.” The word was repeated over and over.

“It’s one of the Wise Ones.”

“There’s no such thing as a child Stafriez.”

“Where do you think they come from? Do you think he came out of the nowhere into the here?” an elderly man said to those around him. “It has a parent just like you and me. I would like to meet this Stafriez.” He pushed forward in the crowd.

“Honorable Jal Jomari,” the old man said. “I am Ulrik Van Dijk. This generation does not remember the talents of the Stafriez. Long ago our people came here from the Aphyx system. The Stafriez on this planet provided us with many things to make our existence here successful. If it weren’t for your ancestors, we wouldn’t be here. Your experiences will be added to those of your people's collective memory. I would like to shake your hand, and tell you how honored I am by your presence today.” He bowed at the waist.

Jal bowed in return. “Thank you for your words. Our people have been friends for many years. I wish you fortune and long life.” A current went from Jal’s hand into Ulrick’s.

“I wish you wisdom and power.”

Ulrik went back to his family. He whispered to his son, “Jal Jomari is a true Stafriez. We need to make sure we give it the respect it is due.”

“Who are these people who were trying to stir up trouble?”

“I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care! If people are at all smart, they will show respect.”

“Respect is given when it is earned,” Ulrik’s son answered as everyone listened.

“No. Respect is given when a person meets another person as they are. Disrespect is earned and it is learned from those around it who are disrespectful.”

After looking through the booths set up for World Health Day and having their noon meal at Limke’s, Eiske and Jal went to the community information center. Eiske downloaded current medical articles. Jal searched for pictures of glassware, ceramic-ware, articles about glass-blowing, how to use a potter’s wheel and how to cure the greenware after it had been prepared. After downloading what it could on its own, Jal went to the front desk. “I would appreciate it if I could download two videos. I would also like these books.”

“Hm. An Illustrated Guide to Creating Pottery? Tips, Tricks and Techniques for Potters. Mid-Range Glazes: Glazing and Firing. Glassblowing one and two. These are all lengthy texts and videos.Do you have the available memory?” Mrs. De Graf said loudly.

“I do.”

“What is the name on the account?”

“Jal Jomari.”

“Here you are.” As the material was being downloaded, Jal waited at the side of the counter, so others could be helped. Mrs. De Graf attempted to open various files on the electronic pad.

“That is none of your business!” Jal whispered furiously. “Close those windows immediately!” It was standing behind her looking over her shoulder. Jal’s hair began to grow pink.