“Who are you?”
“André Robbins.”
“You know what I mean.”
André looked behind him; the team was coming out on the field.
“I’m the quarterback and the captain of this team.” He flipped the ball to Adam and walked to the sidelines.
Adam trotted up next to him. “We need to know, André,” he said, looking to his teammates for confirmation. They nodded, and all eyes bore into him.
André moved his gaze over each of his teammates, seeing the questions in their eyes, too. “I’ve been on the team for the past year. Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, it does,” Adam said, pushing.
“What are you, the new team spokesman?” André asked, trying to divert the conversation.
Adam nodded. “I’ve known you the longest,” he said.
André could tell from their intent gazes that he wasn’t going to get out of this, so he sighed. “I’m not from around here.”
“Where are you from?” Adam asked.
“Ever hear of Zyclon?” André asked, knowing that none of them would have. Only people in the top echelon of the government knew about Zyclon.
“No. How far is that from Dallas?”
André laughed and considered how to answer as he took the football from Adam and twirled it in his hands. He gambled and turned toward the football field. “About a hundred million light years away.” He tossed the ball in the air and caught it, turning back around to see the reactions. Eyes were bulging and jaws were slack.
“Does Katrina know?” Adam whispered.
“Yes. She was one of the first people I met here,” he said, shifting under their curious gaze. He wasn’t so sure sharing was a good idea anymore. The last time he felt this vulnerable and exposed, the emperor was sentencing his parents to death.
“But you look human,” Adam whispered.
“Physiologically, we are almost identical to humans. There are just a couple things that are different,” he explained, twirling the ball.
“The eyes,” Adam said. He had seen André’s eyes in the classroom earlier in the day.
André nodded. “Zyclonian eyes are red.”
Collectively, all brows furrowed except Adam’s.
“Are you shitting us?” Bobby asked from behind Adam.
André shook his head. He kept eye contact with Adam.
“Your eyes are blue,” Adam said, stating the obvious.
André nodded again. “Yep.” He tossed the ball in the air, trying to squash his nervous energy.
“Why do they change?” Adam asked, thinking he knew.
André started to laugh a little. “Up until my son was born, only Katrina could make my eyes change.” He looked sheepishly at Adam, the blush heating his cheeks. He shifted and tossed the ball.
Adam caught it, laughing. “Your eyes go all laser when you’re screwing around?”
“Apparently.” His cheeks burned and he was sure they were as red as his eyes got when they went laser.
“How come they didn’t go all red with Anna?” Kevin stepped forward from behind Adam.
André shrugged. “I was angry,” he muttered. He felt the teams’ curiosity. “Come on, we need to get on the field before the coach comes out.”
“Does the coach know?” someone in the back asked.
André shook his head. “Seriously, guys, this is between you and me. If word ever got back to my dad...” He shook his head. “All hell would break loose.”
“He’s not your dad,” Adam said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. He’s the only father I’ve ever known,” André said, sending a warning glance.
“What, are you like Superman, sent off in space when you were a baby to be saved?” Charlie Kempsey asked. He had been a comic book buff all his life.
André laughed. “No. I was exiled because I have blue eyes.” He turned, leaving them with that statement, and began to warm up his arm.
“Say again?” Adam asked from behind him.
“I was six.” He looked at them. “I had blue eyes and they sent me into space to die.” He threw another pass into the net.
“Holy shit,” Adam whispered.
“Commander Robbins found me out there,” he said, picking up the next pigskin to throw. He twirled it in his hands. “This is the only home I’ve ever known, so, if you go blabbing this shit all over the school, I’ll probably end up in a government facility where they’ll study me like a fucking bug for the rest of my life.”
They digested this information as they milled about on the field. Practice was uneventful and in the locker room afterwards, they collected around André again.
“What’s with the girls?” Charlie asked.
André shrugged. “Kat says I’m sending off a sex vibe,” he said and laughed at the absurdity of it all. “It started when Sam was born and I’m praying it stops soon because there’s only so many advances I can ward off before I just give in and then I’m a dead man,” he said as he closed his locker.
“Giving in will kill you?” Charlie gasped.
“No. Kat will kill me,” he clarified, eliciting smiles from most of his teammates.
“You can die?” Charlie asked.
“I’m flesh and blood, just like you Charlie,” André said, lifting his shirt and showing the scar from the stab wound. “See?” He pointed to it.
“Where’d you get that?” Adam asked. He had seen it before but never asked.
“Kat’s dad,” he answered. “He didn’t like the fact that I got her pregnant and I ended up getting the angry edge of a knife. He was so mad he had a heart attack.” André looked at his watch. “Shit. I gotta go. I was supposed to be at the hospital a half hour ago.” He flew out of the school, hopping into the craft, and zoomed out of the near empty parking lot, cursing under his breath at the darkening sky.
He skidded into the room ten minutes later, gasping for air from the sprint. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, leaning over to catch his breath.
“It’s about time. We can go home as soon as we produce an infant seat.”
“A what?” André asked.
“It’s at home, André. I got one as a baby shower gift.”
André dug his phone from his pocket and dialed the house. “Mom, can you bring the infant seat to the hospital? Kat’s ready to go but we can’t leave without it.” He nodded. “Thanks.” He flipped the phone closed.
“Anything else I should know about today?” Katrina asked.
André put up a barrier intended to keep her out of today’s activities, but he knew he couldn’t outright lie to her. “I got angry,” he said. He let her see the shower scene that ended with the cheerleaders running out soaking wet.
Katrina chuckled at the image. “That was pretty quick thinking.”
André shrugged. “It prompted a hell of a lot of questions from the team,” he replied, leaving the real reason for the questions out of his mind.
“What’d you tell them?” Katrina asked.
“The truth.”
Katrina sat down on the bed. “No, André, you didn’t.”
“Yes. I did,” he said, wishing he had a football in his hands to twirl. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Your dad is going to kill you.”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
“You’re delusional,” Katrina said as she pulled the portable crib closer to her, making sure Sam was still sleeping. “They are going to talk, André. It’s just too juicy a story.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know how to keep a secret,” she said, glaring at him. “Those windbags don’t.”
“You don’t know that,” he said.
“Anna,” she said and crossed her arms.
André blocked his mind. “What about her?”
“Did you know every last one of them slept with her?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Anna did the whole team, André.” She crossed
her arms. “Including you.”
“That was before I was on the team, Kat,” he sidestepped.
“I’m aware of that, but she won’t let up until she has you again,” Kat warned.
André laughed. “She won’t come near me. Not after today.”
“You think a little cold water is going to deter her?”
His smile faded. “No,” he said. “But the things I said will.” He wouldn’t let her into that recess of his mind and he mentally threw away the key.
“What did you say?” Katrina asked.
“Let’s just say I told her a different kind of truth and it was pretty harsh.”
“What did you say?” she asked more forcefully.
“You don’t need to know what I said. All you need to know is that I got her off my back.” He walked over to his son and picked him up. “Mom just pulled in. Let’s go see what we need to get out of here.”
13
André tensed as he walked into the school the next morning. He hated it when Katrina was right and this was no different. All eyes swiveled to him, their thoughts broadcasting a litany of questions followed by hushed whispers.
You were right. He sent the thought home and sighed.
I told you so.
Bite me, André sent back and headed in the opposite direction toward his classroom. Anna intercepted him before he could reach his destination. Her expression wavered between the wanting coursing through her veins and the anger and disgust at the rumors.
“Get out of my way, Anna,” André warned.
“You’re an alien?” she snapped.
André laughed but didn’t confirm or deny the information. Instead, he ignored her and stepped into the classroom, thinking about how to diffuse this ticking bomb. Accusatory stares met him and he slumped into his seat. “What is it with you people?”
“We heard you came from Mars,” one of the more bold students remarked.
André snorted and shook his head. “There’s no oxygen on Mars, therefore no living organisms. Didn’t you learn anything in science?” He looked around the room. “No, I’m not from Mars,” he clarified, seeing the questioning eyes still boring into him.
“Is that what you really look like?” the same kid who remarked about Mars asked.
André raised his eyebrows. “What the hell are y’all talking about?”
“You’re an alien, right?” he asked.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” André drawled.
Professor Randolf walked in the classroom. He had heard the exchange from the hallway. “Mr. Robbins, I believe the class is curious as to the rumors flying around the school,” he clarified. “Apparently, you are not from this particular planet.” He mocked the class.
André leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Would it really matter?” he asked, challenging the room.
“Not at this particular moment.” The professor smiled. “You are all here to take an exam, not talk about what-ifs that don’t exist.” The professor tossed his notebook on his desk. “This year I’m doing oral exams.”
The group groaned.
“Who can tell me what is required to produce life?”
“Sperm and an egg,” someone called out.
The professor smiled. “More basic than that.” He looked around the room and his eyes landed on André. “Well?”
“Oxygen,” André answered. “Hydrogen and oxygen. You can’t have life without water and air.”
“Bingo.” The professor pointed at André. “And are there any other planets in our solar system that have that combination?”
“No,” André answered before anyone else had the chance. Astronomy was his strong suit and he knew of two planets in space that offered the ingredients for life.
“What about beyond our solar system?” he asked the class.
A few glanced back at André, but he kept his mouth closed.
“Not to our knowledge and we have been exploring space for over two hundred and fifty years,” Professor Randolf answered, and sent a stern warning glance at André. “Therefore, starting rumors about being from space is entirely without warrant.”
Irritation at the indirect slam skittered across André’s skin and he crossed his arms. “Just because you have been involved in space exploration for over two hundred and fifty years doesn’t mean you have covered the entirety of the universe. It’s huge and vast, almost endless, so how can you be so sure there isn’t life out there somewhere?”
“We would have already found it,” he replied.
“That’s pretty damn arrogant,” André snapped.
The professor glared at André.
“The human race has yet to figure out how to build a vehicle that will surpass the speed of light without falling to pieces.” He leaned forward on the desk. “The sound barrier was broken over three hundred years ago, and yet, the speed of light is still a mystery. How in God’s name can you believe there is nothing out there when you haven’t been able to get to the other side and back in the time you’ve been exploring space?”
Professor Randolf pursed his lips, considering the question.
“There are millions of galaxies, Professor,” André said. “Well beyond Andromeda and Triangulum.” He glanced around the room. “There are 240,000 galaxy groups within one billion light years of our sun.” He let that sink in. “Three million large galaxies and sixty million dwarf galaxies.” He took a breath. “Mankind has only been able to get to the edge of our own solar system with manned crafts. The automated crafts lost contact about the time they reached the Andromeda galaxy.” He looked around the room. “So who’s to say there isn’t life out there?”
“Where are you from?” a classmate asked.
“Andromeda galaxy,” he answered before he could catch himself.
“So it’s true?” Samantha asked from the other side of the room.
André closed his eyes and hung his head. “Damn,” he whispered, pissed that he slipped up when he was doing so well with just the scientific facts.
The questions began to fly fast and furiously at André until finally the professor yelled, “QUIET!” at the top of his lungs.
The room went silent. Professor Randolf stared at André. “Are you telling me you’re that boy they found?”
“Does it really matter?” André asked.
The teacher sat down on his seat hard and just stared.
“I’m flesh and blood just like y’all,” André added, looking around the room. “I laugh, I cry, I get girls pregnant.”
Some of the members of his class broke out in grins.
“So does it really matter that my origin might be a billion light years away?”
“I’ll be damned,” Professor Randolf whispered.
“Are we done with the exam now?” André asked, looking for an escape route out of this conversation.
The professor looked at the notebook on his desk and his brow creased. “No,” he said, leaning back. “No, we’re going to discuss this some more instead.”
Questions started to fly all at once.
“Hey!” Professor Randolf shouted, quieting the group. “I’ll be asking the questions.”
André picked at a hangnail without looking at the classroom. This entire situation reeked of havoc and the idea of answering more questions about his origin made him squirm in his seat.
Hands slowly lowered.
“Why are you here?” Professor Randolf asked.
André shrugged. “Dumb luck,” he replied.
People shifted uncomfortably in their chairs as the blanket of silence descended.
“From what I’ve observed of you, there doesn’t seem to be very many differences between your race and ours,” the professor said. “Are there any significant differences?”
“I guess it’s my eyes. That seems to be the only significant difference. Some of you have seen the primary difference, but I’ve been told my physical and physiological makeup is almost identical to yours.”
André scrambled out of his seat and away from her, looking around at the collective shock on the faces of all the males in the classroom. The females held the same hot, horny look on Holly’s face. André stood with his back to the wall and glanced at Professor Randolf with a shrug.
“Holly, please take your seat,” Professor Randolf ordered. Holly complied, but wouldn’t take her eyes off André.
“What the hell is this?” Cameron snapped, glancing between André and his girlfriend.
André let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t really have an answer for you there, dude.” He slid back into his seat. “Kat says I’m emitting some sort of vibe. It started after the baby was born and apparently only affects women.”
Eyebrows raised across the room.
André blushed. “Man, if I wasn’t married...” He grinned sheepishly, leaving the remainder of the thought to their imaginations.
Craig smiled back at André. “So, the locker room was real?”
André’s smile disappeared. “We are running way off the subject here,” he replied, directing the conversation away from that ordeal.
“What was your planet like?” Professor Randolf asked.
André thought before he spoke, pulling memories out of the recess of his mind where he had locked them so long ago. “Green and lush,” he said, remembering some of the places his parents hid with him. “The cities were cold, though,” he replied, thinking of the tall steel-like buildings. “Not temperature wise, just in lack of any sort of warmth.” He didn’t add that the inhabitants were just as cold as the city itself. “The cities were like steel jungles. Everything was silver, grey, and white. Severe.” He homed in on the word. “It was severe.” He looked around the room. “But when you got out to the countryside, it was beautiful. We had sister suns, that’s what my mom used to call them.” He smiled at the memory. “Two suns chasing each other from horizon to horizon.” André’s mind was no longer in the classroom. He was standing in a field with his mother, picking wild flowers and laughing. “Everything in the countryside was green. The grass, the trees, even the lake water had green hues, and the flowers—they were every color imaginable. And our sky was always shades of green, yellow, orange, and red. Sunsets would brighten the colors before dark took hold.” His smile faded as the image dissipated. He sighed. “As beautiful as it was, that beauty was not found in the people there. Very few of them were willing to help my parents, not with a blue-eyed child in tow.” He looked down at his hands. “Are we done?” He glanced at the professor unwilling to expose the reason for his exile or the torture of those years alone in the pod.
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