CHAPTER 13
Presentations in science class. A cause of dread for many. Cause of outright panic for a few. And for Ned, a cause of absolute and complete terror. I had read that a majority of humans fear public speaking, which had seemed silly to me at the time. There is plenty more to be afraid of on Earth, such as sharks or snakes or the Earth being obliterated by a comet. However, looking at Ned’s hands clutching the sides of his desk as if trying to break it in two, it is clear that, for him, public speaking is worse than being dangled over a pit of lava, spiders, or the so-called Loch Ness monster.
“Ned,” I say, trying to distract him from his nerves as we wait for the bell to ring. His frantic eyes meet mine for a moment, but it’s almost as if he is looking through me rather than at me. “How was the rest of your visit with your dad?”
Mr. Holton was only home for two weeks before he was obligated to return to where he was stationed. I feel bad for Ned because I know he’s really going to miss his father, but I also feel a guilty sense of relief now that he is gone. No more questions I don’t have the answers to (though I did make it a point to research the Maasai tribe and many others. Just in case).
“Good. He said he might be back soon,” Ned says, but his eyes remain wild.
“Are you and Izzy going to come to the championship game on Friday?”
I really do want to know; after all, it will be my biggest moment yet here on Earth. Uncle Matt and Aunt Shirley are definitely coming, along with most of the other parents. Because it has such a bigger turnout than the other games, it’s always held at the school’s field, which has a lot more bleachers than the fields at the recreation center.
“What?” Ned asks. His skin is now a pasty shade of white. “The game? Oh, yeah, I’ll be there.”
Mr. Blair walks into the room just as the bell rings, like always. Behind him, the projector screen displays in all capital letters “ANATOMY PRESENTATIONS TODAY!” Each student had been assigned an organ or bodily function. I was assigned the liver. Ned was assigned the kidneys. We are supposed to present our information to the class as if we actually are the organ we are talking about. I think it’s a bit strange to talk as if you are a body part that in reality has no vocal cords, much less a personality, but I suppose it’s not any stranger than most things I’ve encountered so far on Earth.
Mr. Blair strides up to the front of the room, flashing his students a dazzling smile. As usual, most of the girls in the class swoon. He claps his hands together and says, “So, do I have any volunteers to go first for their presentation?” Based on his tone, you would think he was offering us a drink from the fountain of eternal youth. Several girls shoot their hands into the air in response, and I peek over at Ned, who is sucking in air in short, raspy breaths.
“Maybe you should volunteer?” I suggest meekly. “You know, get it over with.”
Tight-mouthed, Ned shakes his head. He takes out some notes from his binder as if to review them but instead stares blankly at the pages. Unable to help Ned out of his predicament, I listen to the first presentation on the lungs. I plan on letting as many people go before me as possible so I can get a better idea of what kind of information is expected from these presentations. Armed with a thorough understanding of the human body and how it works, I could easily do all of these presentations with a depth of knowledge that some doctors on Earth don’t possess. Like most assignments, I will need to “dumb it down” so I blend in.
The first presentation finishes and I clap along with the rest of the class, except for Ned, who is still staring down at his desk. A few more students volunteer, but then the room remains absent of hands when Mr. Blair once again asks for volunteers.
“I think Ned wants to go next,” Curtis says from the back of the room, a barely concealed trill of glee in his voice. I bet he can’t wait to witness Ned’s humiliation, to feed off of another’s pain like a leech. Because that’s what Curtis reminds me of—a parasite.
“Well, Curtis, since you’re so eager to volunteer others, why don’t you go ahead and give your presentation on the bowels?”
Scowling, Curtis stomps to the front of the classroom and delivers a forty-five second speech on how the bowels help evacuate human waste. His tone is dry and devoid of any inflection as he hastily spouts some memorized facts. When he finishes, a few students clap hesitantly. I glance back at Curtis when he sits back down, wondering if perhaps he is capable of some humility, but he’s already talking to Cameron with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. No, his presentation wasn’t bad because he didn’t like public speaking; it was bad simply because Curtis didn’t care if it was any good.
The end of the hour approaches and it seems that Ned may get a reprieve until the following day, but then Mr. Blair calls out his name with his well-intentioned, but annoyingly eager, smile.
Ned shuffles to the front of the room. He begins talking in a voice barely above a whisper. I’m in the front row and all I can hear is, “I…a…help.”
“Speak up!” Curtis shouts with a snort of derision.
“Yeah, we can’t hear you!” Cameron chimes in.
“Boys, enough!” Mr. Blair commands, but he does turn to Ned and say gently, “You are going to have to speak a bit louder.”
Going from pale to crimson, Ned takes a deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is almost jarringly loud.
“I am a k-k-k-kid—”
“We already know you’re a kid, now tell us about the organ!” Curtis jeers, and several students in the class burst out laughing.
Losing his normal peppiness, Mr. Blair turns a stern eye on the class. “Speak out of turn one more time and you’ll be sent to the office,” he tells Curtis in an icy tone. Turning back to Ned, he smiles in encouragement. “Please continue.”
Soldiering on, Ned starts from the beginning. “I am a k-kidney. I ha-ave several important f-func-tions. For one, I r-reg-u-late sev-sev-several substances.”
I’ve never heard Ned’s stuttering get to this point. Most of the time, he speaks just like any other human, only stumbling over the occasional word. He had told me that it could get bad, but I wasn’t expecting this. A surge of loyalty rises in me, and I feel a rush of adrenaline course through my veins. In the back of the room, Curtis and Cameron’s laughter is getting louder. The louder it becomes, the more fury builds inside of me.
A secretary from the principal’s office appears in the doorway and beckons Mr. Blair over. Not wanting to stop Ned’s presentation, he quietly exits out into the hall to converse with her briefly. Curtis and Cameron jump on the opportunity.
“I ha-ha-have a question,” Curtis calls out, interrupting Ned midsentence. “A-Ar-Are you br-br-brain-damaged or just a complete loser?”
The wave of rage reaches a breaking point and I jump up from my seat and turn to face Curtis. “SHUT UP!” I snap, balling my hands into fists. “The only loser here is you. A three-year-old could have given a better presentation than what you did, so why don’t you just keep your mouth shut?”
The room falls into complete enraptured silence for a moment, and then it is broken by the scraping of Curtis’s chair as he jumps to his feet. Cameron, however, pulls at his shoulder to keep him from lunging in my direction.
“Not here,” Cameron says, struggling to restrain his friend. “Later.”
Mr. Blair reenters the room, completely oblivious that one of his students has transformed into a raging beast. Still standing, I meet Curtis’s stare dead on; it’s full of a loathing I’ve never seen before, not even from him. Mr. Blair turns cheerily to Ned, who is still in front of the class.
“Sorry about that. Did you get a chance to finish?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” Ned says, and no one in the class contradicts him. The bells rings and Cameron ushers Curtis quickly into the hallway, while Ned and I stay behind.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Ned whispers without a trace of a stutter.
“Yeah, well, he deserved it.” I pause, thinking of when he and I
zzy insisted on coming to my house the first time I tutored Michael. “Besides, I have your back.”
* * *
I thought Curtis’s revenge would come in the form of a beating after class that would end with me back in the dumpster, but when Ned and I finally emerge into the hallway, he is nowhere to be found. Breathing a sigh of relief, we hurry to gym class. Mr. Pritchard stands guard in the locker room, so I enter it with a feeling of relative safety even though I know Curtis will be there.
Sure enough, he, Cameron, and Michael are clustered in a corner of the room, partially obscured behind a row of lockers. Michael meets my gaze with a look that clearly says, “What did you do?” Curtis doesn’t look up at all. His rage seems to have abated to a slow seething. Changing into my gym clothes quickly, I throw my belongings in my locker before jogging out to the fields. The three of them are talking quietly when I leave, taking their time. Mr. Pritchard still has us playing baseball, though I think it’s primarily because he wants me and Michael to get the extra practice. Losing myself in the game, by the time class is over my fight with Curtis almost seems like a distant memory.
Until I get to my locker. The lock is undone and the door slightly ajar. Fear constricts my throat and I yank the door all the way open. Empty. My sight tells me what my hands do not want to believe, and I fumble around inside the locker, searching. My fingers find nothing but the locker’s cool metal walls.
To most kids this would just be a prank. Most kids could just walk down to the principal’s office, call home, and have another outfit brought up to the school. I am not most kids. And my clothes are the furthest things from my mind. I stand in front of my locker, blinking, as if somehow I can escape the horrifying, surreal truth.
My globe. It’s gone.
CHAPTER 14
It’s Monday when my globe is stolen, which gives me five days to find it. Normally, I take the three drops on Friday morning, and there’s no telling how long I have after that before I transform into my true form. Monday passes by in a blur of sheer terror. I approach Curtis in the cafeteria and demand to know where my stuff is, but he just laughs and says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Tuesday brings a sleep-deprived haze in which I check Curtis, Cameron, and Michael’s bags in science class while they’re busy doing an experiment across the room. No globe. Ned and Izzy prod me about what’s wrong, but I answer in clipped sentences that I’m fine.
I am not fine.
On Wednesday, I hack into the school’s computer system to get Curtis, Cameron, and Michael’s locker combinations. The process is almost depressingly simple. I search during fourth period, while out on a “bathroom pass.” Again, no luck. Visions of Curtis tossing my globe into the trash haunt me at night. If he did, I’ll never find it.
By Thursday, I’m desperate. And there is only one place left to look.
“Do either of you happen to know where Curtis lives?” I ask at lunch, feigning an attempt at casual conversation.
Ned and Izzy look up from their trays in surprise. The past few days, I haven’t said more than two words at lunchtime, and they eventually had given up trying to get any information out of me. Izzy shoots Ned a worried glance, which he returns with a shrug.
“Yeah, he actually lives not far from my house,” Ned says with disgust. “We used to play together when we were little, before he turned into an enormous turd. He doesn’t take the bus anymore though, so he must get a ride.”
“Can I spend the night tonight?”
“Probably,” Ned says, looking wary. “Mom usually doesn’t like people spending the night on school nights, but I probably can convince her. Why tonight, though?”
I hesitate, unsure of how much of my plan I should reveal to them. I overheard Curtis telling Cameron that he was mad because his parents were dragging him to an office party for his dad’s work, said he was going to be stuck there for hours. Hours was plenty of time for what I needed to do.
“I need to take care of something. It’s important, more important than I can even explain. But it means I’m going to have to go to Curtis’s house and I’m going to have to go alone.”
Alarmed, Izzy pushes her tray away. “No way are you going over there alone. That’s like begging Curtis to slaughter you. On his own turf, too. Why do you need to go there?”
I decide to tell them at least part of the truth. “Curtis took something of mine. Something very valuable. And I need to get it back or I’m going to be in all sorts of trouble.” I take a deep breath. “And when I go to Curtis’s house tonight, he isn’t going to be there. No one is.”
Understanding crashes over them, Izzy with a hardening of her stare and Ned with a jaw-dropping gasp. It takes them a few moments to say anything.
“B-But you can’t,” Ned says, stutter back in full force. “T-T-That’s illegal.”
“I’m sure he’s well aware of that,” Izzy snaps, looking at me thoughtfully. “I should go with you.”
Now it’s my turn to stare. Wordless, I shake my head.
“I can be useful,” she insists. “I pick the lock at my house all the time. I can pick theirs, too, if they don’t use the deadbolt. Besides, you can’t go by yourself. You need another set of eyes and ears. I can be your lookout while you’re inside.”
I had never actually gotten far enough in my planning to figure out how I was going to get inside. Picking a lock sounded much easier than breaking a window. Less conspicuous, too. Plus if I could just get back my globe without destroying any of their property, it would feel less like committing a crime and more like taking back what is mine.
“No. I’ll, uh, b-be the lookout. You help Felix inside,” Ned says, to my surprise. He gives me a squeamish smile. “I can’t let my two best friends go to jail without me.”
Taken aback, I struggle to find the words to convince them that I can do this on my own, that they shouldn’t put themselves at risk for me. I open my mouth, but Izzy silences me with a determined stare. She has made up her mind.
“My mom can drop me off at Ned’s after school,” she offers, “but she’ll want to pick me up around nine. Does that give us enough time?”
I nod. If we haven’t found it by then, we never will. Mentally I go over the checklist of what I need to accomplish before school ends. Call Aunt Shirley and convince her to let me spend the night at Ned’s. Figure out what to tell Izzy and Ned when they inevitably ask what we are looking for. Oh, and somehow manage to control the bile that rises in my throat every time I think of what we are going to do.
It all comes down to tonight. Tonight, at least in Earth terms, I become a criminal.
* * *
We walk to Curtis’s house in silence, the crickets providing the only soundtrack to our footsteps. Izzy’s purposeful strides match my own determined ones, but Ned’s shaky steps fall behind. Hair pulled up away from her face, Izzy had changed into dark jeans and a black shirt before coming over. She looked every bit the part of a professional burglar when she arrived at Ned’s house. She took one look at my bright orange shirt and insisted that I change. Now walking in the increasing darkness, I’m grateful for her suggestion. At least one of us is “street-savvy.”
Ned, however, is the opposite of savvy at this moment. Like a pop bottle that has been shaken, he seems on the verge of an explosion of nerves. In the time we have been friends, Ned has shown moments of incredible bravery. I guess crossing the line into illegal territory is a bit too much for him. My father once told me how much humans value courage; according to my English textbook, the true definition of courage is being afraid of something and doing it anyway. It that case, Ned is certainly courageous.
My father. I bite back the mixed feelings that rise in me just as Ned points down the road.
“It’s, uh, the one up on the right,” he says as we approach a driveway. Luckily for us, Curtis’s house is built far back from the road, just like Ned’s. There are tall, skinny trees scattered throughout his front yard, providing additional cover. The
house itself is large, reminding me of a picture I once saw of an old, southern plantation. There’s a large, wraparound porch with a hammock swaying lazily in the breeze on the bottom floor. The top floor has an identical balcony, accented by the large white columns that span all the way around the house. Three rounded windows jut out of the roof like watchful eyes. At the top of the roof, there is a rectangular, windowed watchtower-like structure, guarding the house like a sentinel. It appears to be empty, though I can just imagine Curtis up there, shooting at unsuspecting squirrels.
The house is dark except for a light shining through the window in the front door. Crossing the yard, we pass a tire hung on a tree branch, along with a bicycle turned over on its side.
“Let’s check it out first, make sure no one is home,” Izzy whispers, stealthily climbing onto the porch with the grace of a cat stalking its prey. Ned and I follow, my heart slamming against my chest. The porch and all of its large windows make it easy to spy on the house. Even where the blinds are drawn, it is still possible to see enough to determine whether or not anyone is home. After circling the house, it becomes clear: no one is home. Operation Globe Retrieval is a go.
“Let’s try the back door first. Maybe they left it opened,” Izzy says hopefully.
Ned perks up at the idea. “Do you think?” he asks, creeping over to the sliding glass door and giving it a pull. His shoulders slump and he doesn’t need to say anything for me to know that we aren’t going to be that lucky.
“Time for me to try the old credit card trick,” Izzy says, pulling out a card with flourish.
“You have a credit card?” Ned asks, incredulous.
“No, but ‘the old credit card trick’ sounds better than ‘the old school id trick,’” she whispers. We hurry back to the front door; each of us scanning the yard and the road to make sure no one is watching. Ned and I stand watch, blocking Izzy from view as she maneuvers the card in the doorframe and slides it up. After fiddling with it for a few minutes, she groans.
Tales Of An Alien Invader Page 9
