The Girl With the Jade Green Eyes by John Boyd Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Boyd
Tags: Science-Fiction
favorable publicity for the forestry service? You can take the credit and I’ll take the risks if you’ll make her a ward of the National Park Service and assign me duty as her escort and guardian. I can type the documents. This is no disrespect to Kyra, but the idea came to me yesterday that she is technically ‘rare and exotic fauna,’ and as such she is the responsibility of the Park Service.”
“You’re right,” Peterson agreed. “By law I can appoint you her keeper while she’s out of the park area. She’s not only exotic fauna, she’s a threatened species.”
“What’s exotic fauna?” Kyra asked.
“A rare and unusual animal,” Breedlove said, breaking the news to her in a gentle tone.
“That’s me, Breedlove.” She beamed. “That’s me exactly.”
As a friend of John Breedlove, Tom’s father, Peterson had visited the Breedlove farm before, but it was the first time he had spiraled down into the Breedlove feedlot in a helicopter without a prior notice of arrival. John Breedlove emerged from the barn as the machine landed, a look of wonderment on his face. His wonderment changed to an expression of vexation and mild reproof when he saw the trio approaching across the feedlot, stepping cautiously, and the barefooted, green-haired girl wearing only a poncho.
“That’s my dad,” Breedlove told Kyra.
As they approached closer, the senior Breedlove recovered and walked toward them, without greeting them, to complain, “Pete, if I’d known you were coming I would have gotten dressed for company, and, Tom, why did you bring the young lady through the cattle lot and her barefooted? Miss, I apologize for my son and my overalls.”
“Don’t apologize for your overalls, Mr. Breedlove, and look at this sack your son dropped me into.”
“Why, miss, it’s the most beautiful poncho I’ve ever seen on a woman. It matches your hair.”
“Dad, this is Kyra. She’s a Kanabian from the Planet Kanab.”
“Welcome to the farm, miss. I have many Canadian friends.”
Breedlove was beginning to analyze the adjustments the human mind made to Kyra’s presence, and he suspected that his father’s misinterpretation of the word “Kanabian” was deliberate. John Breedlove extended his hand to Kyra, who took it and performed the peculiar knee-jerk curtsy Breedlove had first seen done by Flurea. By this time Breedlove’s mother, drawn by the noise of the helicopter, had emerged from the kitchen of the house and was coming up the path. She was studying Kyra’s face as she came, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Mother, I’d like for you to meet Kyra Lavaslatta from the Planet Kanab.”
“Welcome to the farm, dear. Is Planetkanab in Saskatchewan?”
Mrs. Breedlove was eyeing Kyra’s hair discreetly and suspiciously as she asked the question.
“It’s nowhere, Mrs. Breedlove,” Kyra answered. “Its sun blew up and destroyed it.”
“How dreadful. But I’m glad you’re safe.”
“She’s telling the truth, Mother. She’s been traveling for thousands of years, earth time.”
“Then you must be hungry. But we’ll have lunch shortly.”
“How was the weather on your planet, Kyra?” It was a farmer’s question from the senior Breedlove, and Kyra answered graciously.
“Much like yours, but probably milder. My planet’s axial tilt was not so great as yours.”
The group moved toward the house, a white, two-story frame structure shaded by maple trees. His parents, Breedlove realized, were clinging to the forms of polite hospitality just as Peterson had steadied himself with the ritual of official behavior, and they were adapting to the girl with more success than Peterson had managed, but they had no UFO sightings on their official records.
“John, I’d like to requisition about thirty gallons of gasoline,” Peterson said.
“No problem, Pete. Kyra, have you really been traveling for thousands of years?”
“Yes and no, Mr. Breedlove. I’ve been traveling for thousands of
“You’re right,” Peterson agreed. “By law I can appoint you her keeper while she’s out of the park area. She’s not only exotic fauna, she’s a threatened species.”
“What’s exotic fauna?” Kyra asked.
“A rare and unusual animal,” Breedlove said, breaking the news to her in a gentle tone.
“That’s me, Breedlove.” She beamed. “That’s me exactly.”
As a friend of John Breedlove, Tom’s father, Peterson had visited the Breedlove farm before, but it was the first time he had spiraled down into the Breedlove feedlot in a helicopter without a prior notice of arrival. John Breedlove emerged from the barn as the machine landed, a look of wonderment on his face. His wonderment changed to an expression of vexation and mild reproof when he saw the trio approaching across the feedlot, stepping cautiously, and the barefooted, green-haired girl wearing only a poncho.
“That’s my dad,” Breedlove told Kyra.
As they approached closer, the senior Breedlove recovered and walked toward them, without greeting them, to complain, “Pete, if I’d known you were coming I would have gotten dressed for company, and, Tom, why did you bring the young lady through the cattle lot and her barefooted? Miss, I apologize for my son and my overalls.”
“Don’t apologize for your overalls, Mr. Breedlove, and look at this sack your son dropped me into.”
“Why, miss, it’s the most beautiful poncho I’ve ever seen on a woman. It matches your hair.”
“Dad, this is Kyra. She’s a Kanabian from the Planet Kanab.”
“Welcome to the farm, miss. I have many Canadian friends.”
Breedlove was beginning to analyze the adjustments the human mind made to Kyra’s presence, and he suspected that his father’s misinterpretation of the word “Kanabian” was deliberate. John Breedlove extended his hand to Kyra, who took it and performed the peculiar knee-jerk curtsy Breedlove had first seen done by Flurea. By this time Breedlove’s mother, drawn by the noise of the helicopter, had emerged from the kitchen of the house and was coming up the path. She was studying Kyra’s face as she came, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Mother, I’d like for you to meet Kyra Lavaslatta from the Planet Kanab.”
“Welcome to the farm, dear. Is Planetkanab in Saskatchewan?”
Mrs. Breedlove was eyeing Kyra’s hair discreetly and suspiciously as she asked the question.
“It’s nowhere, Mrs. Breedlove,” Kyra answered. “Its sun blew up and destroyed it.”
“How dreadful. But I’m glad you’re safe.”
“She’s telling the truth, Mother. She’s been traveling for thousands of years, earth time.”
“Then you must be hungry. But we’ll have lunch shortly.”
“How was the weather on your planet, Kyra?” It was a farmer’s question from the senior Breedlove, and Kyra answered graciously.
“Much like yours, but probably milder. My planet’s axial tilt was not so great as yours.”
The group moved toward the house, a white, two-story frame structure shaded by maple trees. His parents, Breedlove realized, were clinging to the forms of polite hospitality just as Peterson had steadied himself with the ritual of official behavior, and they were adapting to the girl with more success than Peterson had managed, but they had no UFO sightings on their official records.
“John, I’d like to requisition about thirty gallons of gasoline,” Peterson said.
“No problem, Pete. Kyra, have you really been traveling for thousands of years?”
“Yes and no, Mr. Breedlove. I’ve been traveling for thousands of