The storm let Keelic stay home for two weeks, including the week of midterm exams. On the first day of the tests, Keelic felt like an unpowered ship about to reenter the atmosphere without a heat shield. Now his parents were going to find out how little he had been studying since the alien arrived. His hatred for school tripled. The first test was relayed to the big console in the main hall. It was Ermolian Life and History, a subject he did well in despite Mr. Drin, but as he read the questions, no answers came. He read them again.
Who was the leader of the first colony on Ermol? Feeling hopeless, he prepared to guess, when Nevho Vamakil popped into his mind. He knew it was correct, and typed it in. The answer to the second question had a faint violet and orange touch to it.
The alien was sitting with his legs curled beneath it near a window where he had been watching the slanting rain, but now both eyes were focused on Keelic. He felt gentle sympathy, a light-blue orange urge to help, comfort.
As Keelic read each question, the answer came to him before he had a chance to ask. He whizzed through the test, even the essay that he wrote himself, and filed it before anyone else. The grade flashed up, a perfect score.
Mr. Drin appeared on the screen with his half smile. "Congratulations, Keelic," he said.
Keelic smiled, and made nervous glances at the alien.
"I am going to post this to all the students as an example," said the instructor.
Keelic wilted. Nothing could be worse. They would all hate him for doing better than them. Mr. Drin said something else, and the screen went blank.
Going to his friend, he yellow-asked, You knew all that?
Keelic got a multicolored image of himself—no, the alien—hearing the instructor talk and storing the sounds without conscious effort or understanding, then magenta warm pink-orange friend’s need putting the information into context, and simple retrieval as requested.
Keelic assimilated each part and put it together. The alien remembered everything he saw or heard, and most of what Keelic heard, too.
"Cold," said Keelic.
He asked to do his other tests early, and finished them all before lunchtime. Thrilled and scared and guilty, he watched each test come back with perfect or almost perfect scores.
Green-blue request to play more games.
Keelic let the triumph rule him. The alien built an impossibly huge battleship and began attacking Keelic before he was done envisioning his Lasiter Attack Frigate. Keelic shut his eyes to see better, and rolled on the floor and pillows, twisting about as he maneuvered his ship and fired weapons. The alien retracted his eyes and sat perfectly still to do battle with his dreadnought.
"Keelic?" said his mother’s voice.
He opened his eyes, but still saw his starship in front of him. The alien took advantage of Keelic’s lack of concentration and blew up his ship.
"No fair!" shouted Keelic.
Flushing pink, the alien gave Keelic one of his own favorite lines, Tough torpedoes, Terran toad.
Laughing, Keelic got up to tackle the alien, but he scampered up to the high ceiling and looked down, amusement flowing in happy bright colors.
"Keelic!" said his mother.
"Yes?" he said sheepishly, aware that he had ignored her.
"What were you doing?"
"We were just playing."
"What about your tests?"
"I’m finished."
"So fast? Did you double-check your answers before filing?"
"Yes," he lied.
"What grades did you get?"
He felt his ears and face burning.
His mother frowned and tapped up his school record. The alien dropped off the ceiling and landed with a plop next to him.
Mother was smiling. "This is wonderful. Excellent," she said. "I’ll make your favorite cookies, and call your dad in. We have to celebrate."
Keelic agreed without comment. He had never cheated before, never needed to.