by Melinda Metz
Maria looked up at Michael. Man, her eyes were blue. And she always smelled so good.
Michael wondered what the deal was with her dream. Was there some guy out there she had a thing for, some guy she wanted to kiss? Or did she wake up the next morning going, “That was weird. I guess I shouldn’t eat pineapple pizza before I go to bed.”
“Or she might move her arms around your waist.” Maria demonstrated on Michael, and it continued to feel good. He kept waiting for that wave of but-thisis-thegirlwho’s-like-my-little-sister feeling to sweep over him. But it didn’t come.
“That’s a pretty clear signal she wants to be held closer,” Maria said. “Of course, some guys, like Michael, are kind of slow. They miss the more subtle hints.”
“I’m not missing any hints,” Michael answered. He pulled her up against him and slid one of his hands up her back. She snuggled closer, resting her cheek against his chest. That little-sister feeling still didn’t come.
“So that’s it?” Dylan asked.
“That’s it,” Michael answered. He started to pull away, but Maria tightened her arms around him.
“There is the kissing thing,” Maria said. She lifted her head and stared up at Michael again.
“The kissing thing?” Dylan repeated in horror.
“Yeah, sometimes during a slow dance people kiss,” Maria said.
Michael’s eyes drifted down to her lips. The color of them reminded him of raspberries. He wondered how they would taste.
But kissing was a whole different deal than dancing. Dancing was kind of a borderline. You could be friends and dance together. But if you started kissing, you crossed the border from being friends into … something else.
“I think you’ve learned enough for one night,” Michael told Dylan.
Max glanced at the clock. Almost eight. Was Liz changing clothes right now, trying to decide what to wear to UFOnics, trying to figure out what Jerry Cifarelli would think was hot?
“What do you think of a display on the Hollow Earth Society?” Ray asked. “Maybe right over there, next to the one on the Elvis-alien connection.” He jerked his chin, nodding toward the back wall of the UFO museum.
“I don’t know what that is,” Max admitted.
Maybe Liz and Jerry are already at UFOnics, dancing to some slow song, Max thought. Why had Maria told him that Liz was going out with Jerry tonight? If she wanted to torture him, why didn’t she just pull out his fingernails or drip water on his forehead?
“And you call yourself an alien,” Ray scolded. “Don’t you know we’ve been colonizing the hollow center of the earth for hundreds of years?”
“Wait. What? When were you planning on telling us?” Max demanded. He understood that talking about their birth planet was painful for Ray. But if there was a whole group of aliens on earth, he should know about it.
Ray shook his head. “Max, Max, Max. You really should have told me you’d gone in for that lobotomy. I’d have given you the night off.”
Oops, Max thought. “I guess the words hollow center of the earth should have tipped me off, huh?” he said. “I don’t have much of a sense of humor tonight.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ray said. “And just for the record, as far as I know, you, me, Michael, and Isabel are the only aliens on earth.”
“So what’s this Hollow Earth Society deal?” Max asked. He wanted to check the time again, but he wouldn’t let himself. If he kept thinking about Liz and Jerry, he really would need a lobotomy.
“Just one of the wackier human theories,” Ray explained. “You want to hear about it—or you want to tell me what’s got you in such a fever?”
“Nothing really to talk about,” Max said. What was he supposed to say? That he was losing his mind because Liz—the girl he told he wanted to be just friends—was going out with someone else tonight?
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Ray glanced at his watch. “Blow the whistle—it’s quitting time,” he said. “You go ahead and take off. I’ll close up.”
“Thanks,” Max said. He bolted out to his Jeep and swung into the driver’s seat. Now what? he wondered. Go home and spend the night imagining Liz in Jerry’s arms? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. I’ll go to a movie, he decided. That will keep my mind off what Liz is doing with Jerry.
He pulled out onto the street and headed toward the mall. When he made a left onto Cordova, he could see UFOnics’ bright orange neon sign, with its spaceship crashing over and over. Max planned to just drive on by, he really did, but it was like the Jeep had a mind of its own.
Now what’s the plan, you big idiot? Max asked himself as he maneuvered the Jeep into one of the last parking spots. He couldn’t just go inside and stare at Liz.
Unless …
With a soft whispering sound his hair began to grow. Max stopped it when it got to his shoulders. Black, he decided. He tilted down the rearview mirror and watched as his blond hair turned a molted orange, then darkened to a muddy brown, and finally became a deep shiny black.
Not too shabby, Max thought. He couldn’t do the changes as fast and smooth as Ray yet, but still, not too shabby. He turned his attention to his face, and his skin began to bubble. It didn’t hurt or anything, but it looked repulsive. Max squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, his cheekbones were higher, his nose was smaller, and his skin was several shades darker.
What everyone at the Aliens Among Us conference downtown wouldn’t give to see this, Max thought as he climbed out of the Jeep and headed inside. He promised himself he’d just take a quick look. He pushed his way through the crowd and found a spot at one of the little tables circling the dance floor. He hated the chairs in this place. They were designed to look like gigantic moon rocks and they always wobbled.
Craig Cachopo stalked up and asked Max what he wanted to drink. As much as he hated the chairs Max loved seeing some of the school elite dressed in the world’s dweebiest, bad-sci-fi-meets-bad-disco-glitter uniforms. The expression on Craig’s face made it absolutely clear that no comments on his shiny purple spandex space suit would be tolerated.
Max ordered a Lime Warp. He was actually starting to like them now that Ray had forced a few down throat. When Craig stomped off in his orange half boots, Max saw what he came there to see but didn’t really want to see—Liz and Jerry on the dance floor. At least it was a fast song, so he didn’t have to see them actually touching.
She is so utterly beautiful, Max thought. Liz smiled at Jerry, and Max felt his heart constrict. He wished he could get a clearer look at her aura to see if she was enjoying herself as much as she seemed to be. But UFOnics’ flashing colored lights made everyone’s aura difficult to read.
Max drank three Lime Warps and ate an order of extreme pile-on-everything nachos, watching Liz every moment. With the face of some other guy he could stare at her as much as he wanted.
Liz and Jerry sat down at a nearby table, and Max kept his eyes locked on her. He realized he hadn’t really looked at her in days. Lately when he talked to her, he kept his eyes focused slightly to the side of her face. That’s how bad things had gotten between them, how awkward and uncomfortable. He had totally screwed up with that kiss at the mall. That heart-pounding kiss.
Liz glanced up—right at him. Her deep brown eyes locked on his as if she were staring straight into his soul.
Oh no, Max thought frantically. She’ll kill me for following her here!
He looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen her. She can’t know it’s me, he told himself. I’m completely disguised. She can’t know.
When he allowed himself to look at her again, Liz was leaning close to Jerry, whispering something in his ear.
A slow song started up, and Max felt every muscle in his body tense. Were they going to dance? Liz stood up. Jerry reached out, like he was going to take her hand.
Max bolted. He shoved his way through the crowd and out into the cool night air. He’d seen enough. He didn’t need to see Jerry put h
is arms around Liz, side his fingers through her hair.
I could go back in there and stop it, Max thought suddenly He could bump into Jerry, make a quick connection, and stimulate the acid production in Jerry’s stomach or something. Not enough to really hurt him. Just enough to make sure he spent the rest of the night dancing with the toilet instead of Liz.
He immediately felt disgusted with himself. To even think about using his power to do harm was totally sick. He jammed his hands in his pockets and started toward the Jeep.
“Max,” a voice called behind him.
He turned around and saw Liz. He had no trouble reading her aura this time. She was furious.
“I knew it was you,” she said. “Did you forget that today at lunch you told us Ray taught you to change your appearance?”
Actually, he had forgotten. Should he deny it was him? Say he had no idea what she was talking about? There was no way she could be one hundred percent sure.
“You want a little tip?” Liz demanded. “Next time change your clothes, too. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your jacket? Oh, and change the eyes. I would know your eyes anywhere—” Her voice broke.
Then Liz took a step closer to him. So close, the edges of her aura started to blend with his. All he wanted to do was pull her up against him and feel her mouth under his.
“You know what, Max?” she asked, her voice harsh. “You could have been the one dancing with me in there. You made the choice to push me away. Now live with it.” She whirled around and strode back into the club without looking back.
Why didn’t Michael kiss me? Maria asked herself for about the one hundred and fifth time since she’d helped him baby-sit. She added another dollop of her special home-blended bath oil to the water—she liked to be surrounded in a cloud of scent—then settled back against her sponge pillow and closed her eyes. And kept thinking about Michael, of course.
He’d at least thought about kissing her. She knew that for sure. She’d seen the way his eyes flicked down to her lips. He had definitely been thinking about moving in.
Maria sighed, sending little ripples through the water. Okay, he thought about kissing her. That was good. It meant he didn’t totally see her as a buddy or whatever.
So what was the problem? Maybe it was an alien-human thing. Maria would never forget how Nikolas used to look at her, when he looked at her at all. It was so clear he’d thought she was a lower life-form. Much lower.
No, that couldn’t be it. Michael wouldn’t come crawling through her window every couple of nights if he thought of her as haft an evolutionary step above mold.
So what was the deal? What was holding him back? I should get Liz to help me figure him out, Maria thought. Except Liz was going through a romantic trauma fight now. Maria knew it was pulverizing Liz’s heart to go out with another guy because that meant starting to accept the fact that she and Max were never going to be together.
Maria didn’t want to torture Liz by making her analyze why Maria couldn’t get something started with Michael while Liz was trying to deal with everything ending with Max.
That’s why Maria hadn’t even told Liz about being psychic. If she told Liz about it, Liz would want to do a bunch of experiments to make sure that Maria’s imagination hadn’t taken off with her again. And she’d probably get all worried about the blacking-out thing. Maria wasn’t worried. It was just a side effect. Perfectly harmless. No, she’d let Liz get some of her equilibrium back before she announced that Liz now had her very own psychic friend.
I could tell Michael about my psychic powers, she thought. He’s not going through anything devastating the way Liz and Isabel are. He’d have time to help me explore my powers.
Yeah, and then I’d have the perfect excuse to talk to him, she realized. Maybe we could bond over what a kick it is to have superhuman powers. Maybe if he’d known I had powers, he would have kissed me.
What was Michael thinking right now? Was he thinking she was a loser for throwing herself at him?
You could take a little peek at him. You do still have his sweatshirt, Maria reminded herself. It was lying fight next to the bathtub—and she had the ring on. She wore it all the time.
Maria reached down and touched the sweatshirt with one finger. This is wrong, she thought. But it wasn’t a big wrong. It was a little wrong. She only wanted to take a fast look, just to see if she could get any clue about what was going on in Michael’s socalled brain.
I’m doing it, she decided. Where is Michael—
Before she completed the thought, the bathtub dissolved into colored dots. When they clumped, they formed a warm white mist. Maria could hear the sound of running water.
She peered through the mist and made out the outlines of a glass door. And on the other side of that door Michael was taking a shower.
Maria started to giggle. Michael would really think she was throwing herself at him if he could see her right now. Thank God, he couldn’t.
The tile floor wiggled under her feet, and a few moments later she was back in the bathtub. She turned on the hot water with her toes and warmed up her bath. She let herself slide completely underwater, her hair floating around her face.
Why was the water so cold?
Maria tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move. She lay on the bottom of the tub, her body as heavy as lead. Water covered her nose, her mouth.
She felt a tightness in her lungs. She needed to take a breath. There was plenty of air inches away. But she couldn’t move inches. She couldn’t move at all.
I’m going to drown, Maria thought wildly. I’m going to drown in my own bathtub!
Kevin and her mother wouldn’t hear a single splash. Because she couldn’t move.
Her lungs began to burn. Her lungs were on fire.
How long did she have? Another minute? Two?
Maria’s vision darkened, turning the water above her black.
This is it. This is where I die.
Liz saw Jerry smile as she walked toward him. Good. The absolute rage boiling inside her must not show. It wouldn’t be fair to make Jerry deal with that.
Max. He was the guy who deserved to have her fury come pouring down on his head like lava. He deserved to have to stand in that parking lot for hours listening to Liz tell him what a total and complete jerk he was.
He had gotten off way too easily. That’s because if Liz had tried to say one more word to him, she would have burst into tears. And that’s not something she’d wanted to do in front of him. No, the crying would have to wait until she got home and got into the shower. She didn’t cry much, but when she did, the shower was her place. She would adjust the spray so it came down in those stinging needles and let the hot water wash away her tears—and drown out any sounds. She never let her parents hear her when she cried. Never.
“So was he the kid from your kindergarten class?” Jerry asked when she reached him.
Liz shook her head. “Nope. It was a total stranger. I made a fool of myself.”
“Yeah, poor guy,” Jerry said. “Having some gorgeous girl chase him out to the parking lot.” He took a long drink of his planet punch and stared at the dance floor. It was obvious he was embarrassed by what he’d just said.
He’s so sweet, Liz thought. He shouldn’t be here with her. He should be here with a girl who didn’t have ninety-nine percent of her brain focused on some other guy.
Suddenly the music screeched to a stop. The club went black. The crowd gave a long aaah of anticipation, then a loud voice came over the PA. “Okay, everyone. It’s that time—time for the alien bop!”
The alien bop. Roswell’s answer to the bunny hop. As if the bunny hop needed any kind of answer. could not figure out how it had become this hugely popular thing.
“I have something to tell you. I should have told you before,” Jerry said as people began to make long, snaking lines through the club. He leaned closer. “I don’t bop.”
Liz laughed. A real laugh. “Me neither,” she admitted.
; It was a moment. One of those times when two people were totally in sync. Liz had them all the time with Max. At least she used to.
“Let’s sit down fast,” Liz said. She spotted a free table and led the way over to it. She cautiously perched on one of the wobbly moon rock chairs just as the bopping got started.
“Okay, it’s time for the judging,” Jerry said. “I get to be the East German judge. You can be the Swedish judge.” He scanned the long line of alien boppers weaving around the tables.
“See that girl over there?” He tilted his head toward a tall girl dressed in a white shirt and pressed khakis. “I give her a ten for technique. See how she’s always on the right foot and how she never breaks her grip on the person in front of her? But she only gets a two for originality. She’s not letting enough of her shine through. She’s not owning the bop.”
Liz laughed again. It felt good. Maybe she wouldn’t need a crying session in the shower after all. Maria was right, Liz thought. I’m glad she talked me into doing this.
“The guy over there has the opposite problem,” Liz said. She pointed, trying not to be too obvious. “He’s so original, I don’t think he’s even doing the same dance as everybody else.”
“So what’s his score?” Jerry asked.
“Hmmm. I’d say originality—an eleven. Technique—a minus three. And for the tattoo—four bonus points because I love a guy who’s not afraid to walk around with a koala bear on his arm.”
Jerry shook his head. “I don’t know who let you on this panel. You can’t just throw points around like that. Bop judging is a serious responsibility. You’re deciding who gets the multimillion-dollar contract to do Cosmic Crunch commercials and who goes home with only a bucketful of shame.”
Liz laughed so hard, she snorted. She didn’t think Jerry heard because the room had erupted in the post-bop hooting and cheering. When the crowd finally calmed down, a stow song started up.
“You want to?” Jerry asked.
“Sure,” she answered. The touching thing … it didn’t feel like so much of a thing anymore. It was just a dance. She didn’t know why she’d been so weirded out by the idea. What was the big deal?
