I'm Telling You, They're Aliens!

by Jeremy Strong

  Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s what they said. I don’t suppose they think their surname is funny at all. I hope you won’t laugh at them when they come over.’

  ‘Mum, he wears shorts,’ I said.

  ‘Just right for this weather. You should do the same. Get some air up your legs.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘You are a bit weedy Robert. You should get more exercise, eat more.’

  I was silent. The conversation was rapidly moving into What’s Wrong with Robert: Stage One. This is the bit where my parents say I need building up. Stage Two is when they suggest I take up weight training. Stage Three arrives when they start talking about high protein diets, fitness programmes and no more watching TV

  ‘What’s Mr Vork like?’ asked Dad, and I inwardly sighed with relief. I’d escaped being turned into Muscle-man for the time being.

  ‘Oh, he seemed a bit quiet, but he’s got sharp eyes.’

  ‘Sharp?’

  ‘Yes, they bore into you, you know?

  Penetrating eyes, and they dart all over the place.’ (Have you ever noticed how people say really daft things? How can anyone’s eyes dart about? They’re not fish.)

  Dad asked what Mr Vork did for a living.

  ‘Something to do with computers, that’s what his wife said. Rob, you know Norman’s only fourteen? You could be friends.’

  ‘With someone called Norman? Nobody’s called Norman.’

  ‘Norman is,’ said Dad, laughing at his own joke. ‘Anyhow, you can’t write someone off just because of their name.’

  Oh yeah! Tell me another! What about Wolfgang Amadeus then, eh? What about that? Besides, Norman was fourteen. It was like Mum was asking me to be friends with a werewolf. My parents know nothing.

  ‘Are you listening, Robert?’

  ‘What?’

  Mum gave a big sigh. ‘World of your own,’ she murmured. ‘I said, just be nice to him when he comes over this afternoon, and little Petal too. She’s only a year and a half old. She looked rather sweet.’

  How could my parents be taken in so easily?

  3 Even Closer Encounters

  ‘She can talk already!’ cried Mum, and I thought, Of course she can talk. She’s an alien. She can probably speak a thousand languages, and come to think of it, she’s probably got a thousand different tongues to speak them with. But Mum was still going all gooey

  ‘Goodness, Robert didn’t learn to talk until he was almost three.’ Thank you, Mum.

  ‘Is it unusual?’ asked Mrs Vork anxiously, as if she didn’t want anyone to think her daughter was any different to other children, and no wonder. I fixed Mrs Vork with my best I-know-what-you’re-up-to kind of stare, and I got a really good peek at that star sign. It was made up of twelve stars, in some weird shape, with little lines joining them up round the edges, like a dot-to-dot picture.

  ‘Robert, is there something wrong with your neck?’

  I straightened up, and Mrs Vork threw me a panicky glance. Oh yes! I’d got her worried all right – but not half as worried as she’d got me. I mean, she was an alien. You know what they’re like. They have laser eyes and stuff. I was pretty sure that the Vorks wouldn’t attempt anything yet. They would be more concerned about their master-plan to take over the world.

  ‘I was wondering if I might borrow some sugar,’ said Mrs Vork and I couldn’t help myself. I just had to laugh. I mean, this was so obvious! Everyone turned and looked at me and the whole room went deadly quiet.

  ‘Sorry’ I muttered. I felt my skin go prickly and flush strawberry from head to toe.

  ‘Of course you can have some sugar,’ said Mum, and then she began gurgling at little Petal, ‘She’s so clever!’ before going into ecstasies over the baby’s amazing intelligence yet again.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ muttered Norman. ‘I could talk when I was eleven months.’

  ‘No you couldn’t,’ said Mr Vork, fixing his eyes on his son.

  ‘Oh yes I… couldn’t.’ Norman turned away sulkily from his father’s threatening gaze. His dad had extraordinary eyebrows, like fat, black caterpillars.

  ‘Gimme more,’ cried Petal, making a grab for the chocolate cake that Mum had placed on the table.

  ‘Just look at her!’ smiled Dad. I thought, Yeah, just look at her. What a greedy pig.

  ‘What a greedy pig,’ said Norman.

  ‘Norman!’

  ‘That’s what Robert thinks, and I agree with him.’

  I was astonished. ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’ Norman just snorted back at me.

  Mum glanced anxiously at everyone. She did want things to go well. ‘Robert, why don’t you take Norman upstairs and show him your computer or your violin while we talk to Mr and Mrs Vork.’

  I was quite pleased about this. It would be a chance to study this alien creature more closely When we got to my bedroom he went straight across to my computer. It was time to ask a few probing questions.

  ‘Did you really know what I was thinking?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But I was thinking she was a pig.’

  ‘Everyone thinks she’s a pig,’ said

  Norman. ‘And anyhow, I could talk when I was eleven months, so there. It’s no big deal. Does this computer have a copier?’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A copier, you know, for copying things.’

  ‘Oh! You mean like a photocopier?’

  Norman gave me a weird look, as if I was truly stupid. ‘Of course not, Jellyhead,’ he sneered. ‘I mean like copying living things. Dogs, cats, elephants…’

  ‘You’ve got a computer that can do that?’ Inside, you can bet my mind was going boggle-boggle, but I tried to stay calm. This was like an actual admission. I mean, short of him actually saying ‘I am an alien,’ this was it!

  But Norman was getting bored. He seemed to think that my computer was hopelessly out of date. ‘My dad’s in computers,’ he said. ‘He knows more about computers than anyone in the universe.’

  ‘I bet he does.’ I tried to sound cutting.

  ‘Yours is rubbish.’ Now that was cutting. I shrank back on to the bed.

  Norman kept glancing round the room. Eventually he spotted my violin. ‘Can you play that thing?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  I picked it up and began to play a little piece I’d been working on. The effect it had on Norman was incredible. He kind of doubled up, with his hands pressed to his head. He toppled over to one side and began writhing about on the floor.

  ‘Oh come on!’ I protested. ‘My playing isn’t that bad.’ I put the violin down and Norman struggled to his feet. He stared at the little wooden instrument.

  ‘That is an instrument of torture,’ he croaked.

  ‘You must have heard a violin before,’ I said.

  ‘Not played like that.’ He sat on my bed. ‘What do you do up here all day? I’ve never been in such a boring room.’

  ‘What’s special about your bedroom then?’

  Norman grinned at me. ‘For a start I’ve got an electric guitar and amplifiers,’ he boasted. ‘And I’ve got two computers, three games’ decks, and my room is twice as big as yours. I’ve got a satellite tracker and everything.’

  A satellite tracker? What a give-away! This was getting scary. I began wishing that Norman would go.

  ‘I must get back,’ muttered Norman. ‘It’s getting late.’

  He’d done it again! Read my thoughts! By this time I didn’t just have goose pimples; they were more like elephant pimples.

  Norman hurried downstairs. His parents were fussing about too, all of them saying that they must get going, despite Mum’s offer of another cup of coffee.

  ‘Really must rush,’ insisted Mr Vork. ‘Things to do.’

  ‘How did you two boys get on?’ asked Mrs Vork.

  ‘He tried to kill me with his violin,’

  Norman muttered, and my dad laughed.

  ‘Robert does that to everyone,’ he
said. ‘He’s going to join the army when he gets older. You know, secret weapon!’ My dad can be so witty.

  Mr Vork gave a faint smile. I don’t think he realized it was meant to be a joke. He seemed almost… edgy. He scratched at the open collar of his shirt. My eyes almost fell out of my head. There it was again – The Mark! He had exactly the same star cluster, in the same place.

  ‘We must go,’ said Mr Vork, tapping his watch.

  ‘Of course. You must have a lot of unpacking to do,’ agreed Dad.

  ‘Unpacking?’

  ‘From moving in.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come on, Mrs Vork, Norman, we must go unpacking’

  The new neighbours almost ran across the road to their own house and vanished inside.

  ‘Strange people,’ said Dad. ‘He called his own wife Mrs Vork, as if she was a stranger.’

  ‘She forgot the sugar,’ said Mum. Trust her to fret over the really important issues.

  After the Vorks had gone, I started doing some fretting of my own. I was worried. Could Norman really tell what I was thinking? I know he’d said he couldn’t, but then he would say that, wouldn’t he? And if Norman had this power, did that mean all the Vorks knew what we were all thinking?

  There was something else nagging me too. If they were aliens, then what were they really like? Obviously their human form was just a disguise. What did they look like when they were not playing at being human? And why were they in such a rush to get home? I gazed out of the window, across the road, towards their house. I could see the slowly setting sun reflected in their windows.

  And then all at once it came to me. Dracula! They were like vampires. You know how vampires are only vampires at night? During the daytime they have to hide. Maybe these creatures from outer space were like that, only they had to hide by night, because at night-time… they changed into their real alien forms!

  And there I was on one side of the street, while on the other side there were four aliens poised to take over the world.

  This was Big-time Worrying.

  4 Bogbrush

  Today’s horoscope: New friends bring excitement into your life. Beware of yellow.

  How I managed to get any sleep I don’t know, but when I got up the next day I began to realize that this was a problem I could not tackle on my own. I needed help, and the only place I could get help was from school. So before school started, I went round the playground talking to everyone from my class.

  ‘Listen,’ I said. ‘We’ve got new neighbours, and they’re creatures from the furthest reaches of space, and they are going to invade Earth. We’ve got to stop them.

  Will you help me?’

  ‘Not again!’ said most of them. ‘Rob, you thought aliens were coming six months ago. Let’s face it, Rob, the only strange creature living in your street is you.’

  Others just said, ‘Hey! Great game! Can my friend play as well?’ I told them it wasn’t a game, and they looked at me sadly. ‘You mean you really think there are aliens living next to you?’ Then they would sigh and walk off with their hands in their pockets.

  Some people just laughed straight off. Kevin Durbell threw his arms into the air and screamed, ‘Argh! Chicken Licken’s being attacked by aliens! Run for your lives!’ And he ran round the playground yelling and pulling stupid faces. I reckon Kevin Durbell is about as funny as poo on your shoe.

  As for everyone else, they seemed more interested in the fact that the school had been broken into overnight and all the computers and TVs had been nicked. ‘No TV to watch!’ they moaned, as if it was the end of the world. And all the time I knew how the world really would end if they didn’t help me.

  How many helpers do you think I got? How many brave warriors signed up to fight the aliens and save the world?

  None.

  I was going to have to fight them alone.

  That is how things stood until lunchtime. Then Bogbrush turned up. Bogbrush is not her real name of course. Bogbrush’s real name is Marsha and that’s partly how she got her name. You know – marsh, bog? They mean the same thing, don’t they? So when the other kids (Kevin Durbell mostly) heard that her name was Marsha they used every bit of imagination in their tiny brains and came up with Bogbrush. I mean, kids can be so inventive sometimes.

  You can probably tell that I get a bit fed up with nicknames. Chicken Licken doesn’t exactly send me into ecstasies of delight.

  Anyhow, at lunchtime I was standing in the playground by myself, as usual – if I go and stand next to anybody they usually move away pretty quickly, and I knew that today they all thought I had gone off my trolley completely – when Bogbrush came wandering over and stood silently next to me. She’s bigger than me, a whole head taller, and she’s gangly and awkward and has long, thin arms, and legs like sticks that she keeps tripping over.

  I don’t suppose I’m giving you a very good impression of her, am I? I’m making her sound weird. But she is a bit like that: tall and thin, with vague eyes and she’s got this big mop of unruly hair, all curls. That’s the brush bit of course. Bogbrush.

  And there she was, offering her help. It was going to be me and Bogbrush against the mighty force of the aliens. My heart sank into my boots. My right-hand man was a woman! (Well, a girl at any rate.)

  ‘What are they like?’ she asked, and my spirits gave a small leap. I have to say a small leap because after all she was a girl, and a rather weird one at that. Like me, Bogbrush is a bit of a loner. I remembered my horoscope. A new friend… beware of yellow. The new friend had to be Marsha and as for the warning, that was so obvious.

  ‘I think they’ve got yellow skin, but I haven’t seen them properly yet.’

  ‘How do you know they’re extraterrestrials?’

  ‘Come back to my house this afternoon and you’ll see why’

  ‘Anyhow,’ she continued, ‘they won’t be aliens. Those things always turn out to be hoaxes. People said they’d found an alien on a beach a few years ago. You know what it was? The dead, decaying body of a giant squid, washed up from the bottom of the ocean.’

  ‘My new neighbours are not giant squid,’ I muttered angrily. ‘And besides, they’ve got stellar markings on their throats.’

  ‘Really?’ Marsha seemed a fraction more interested.

  ‘The man and the woman have the same sign. It’s a group of stars.’

  Marsha sat down next to me and studied my face carefully. ‘Which group?’

  ‘How am I supposed to know that?’

  She paused, deep in thought. ‘It could be Upsilon Andromedae. That’s got a solar system.’

  ‘You mean other planets?’

  ‘Yes. Three planets have been discovered already, maybe more. Trouble is, Upsilon is forty-four light years away from Earth.’ This was astonishing. I mean, Bogbrush was weird, but I had no idea she was into astronomy. ‘They’d have to have overcome light-speed to get here, and that’s supposed to be impossible. Supposed to be,’ she repeated, ‘although I have my own pet theory on that one.’ She frowned at her feet. ‘Why do you think there are only four of them?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose there could be more, spread across other cities, right across the world, a network of aliens, preparing…’ The skin on the back of my neck prickled. I was beginning to scare myself. Bogbrush glanced down at me and gave a little sigh.

  ‘You worry too much,’ she said. ‘Suppose they’ve come in peace?’ I shuffled my feet. Bogbrush had a point. It just didn’t feel right though. I was certain those aliens were a threat, perhaps the most evil threat the Earth had ever faced.

  ‘So why have you decided to help?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m bored.’

  Oh great! That was so encouraging! My only ally had joined up through boredom.

  I took Bogbrush back to my house after school. Mum raised her eyebrows. It was lucky Dad wasn’t there. He would certainly have said something really witty like ‘Got a girlfriend?’

  We went up to my bedroom, pulled a couple of chairs over to
the window and stared at the house over the road. Nothing happened for a while. Mum brought us up some drinks and biscuits. Bogbrush began to wander round my room, poking her nose into everything.

  ‘You’ve got a computer,’ she said.

  ‘Ten out of ten.’

  She picked up my medical encyclopedia and began leafing through the section on First Aid. (Incidentally, have you ever wondered what happens if First Aid doesn’t work? Is there any such thing as Second Aid or Third Aid, or do the doctors and nurses just give up? I mean, it’s a bit worrying, isn’t it?)

  After a few pages she turned to me and said it was little wonder I spent most of my time worrying. ‘If you stopped reading stuff like this, you wouldn’t fret so much.’

  ‘I like reading that stuff. Listen, do you know what to do if a poisonous snake bites you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘Rob, when did you last see any kind of snake round here?’

  I couldn’t answer that one. I was about to ask if she thought there was such a thing as Second Aid when Norman suddenly appeared outside his house. ‘Quick! Look!’ Bogbrush gazed out of the window. Her lips twisted into a curl.

  ‘He is weird!’ she said, and I could have hugged her. (I said I could have. I didn’t say I did.) At last someone seemed to be thinking what I was thinking.

  ‘And there’s his mum,’ I pointed out. ‘Look, you can see part of the mark.’

  ‘Spooky’ Bogbrush stared hard. ‘I’d like to get a closer look at that. I should be able to recognize it. Anyhow, I thought you said their skin was yellow?’

  ‘That’s when they’re in their alien state. At the moment they’re pretending to be humans.’

  ‘When do you think they’ll be ETs then?’

  ‘Tonight. I’m sure they slip into their alien condition at night.’

  ‘What do you think we should do?’ Bogbrush turned away from the window.

  ‘I was hoping you’d have a plan.’

  ‘Not really. I suppose the first thing to do is prove that they are aliens, and there’s only one way to do that.’ She sat down and fiddled with a pencil. ‘We shall have to get into their house at night and take photos of them in their alien state. That will prove it to everyone.’