From a Distant Star

by McQuestion, Karen

  Lucas stared at the glass as if the answer might be somewhere within the liquid. “It’s good.”

  “And so sweet. Don’t you think it’s sweet?” I prodded. “Because lemons are sweet?”

  There was a long pause like he was trying to decipher what I was saying. Finally, he said, “Yes, lemons are sweet.”

  My heart sank. He was even worse off than I’d thought. I spoke slowly, not knowing how much he understood. “Lucas, baby, I was just testing you. Lemons aren’t sweet at all. They’re sour, really sour. You have to add sugar to lemonade or you wouldn’t be able to drink it at all. You know that, right?”

  “Oh,” he said. “Lemons are sour?”

  “Yes.” I took the glass out of his hand and set it next to mine on the table, then put my hands on either side of his face. I got so close our noses were nearly touching and I could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. He had trouble holding my gaze, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. I pulled his face closer and put my lips on his for the first time since I’d used Mrs. Kokesh’s potion. We usually avoided PDA at the Walker house because Lucas’s mom disapproved and you never knew when she might come barging in, but I no longer cared. I pressed against him and parted my lips, closing my eyes and exploring his mouth with my tongue. Tentatively, he responded, but it wasn’t Lucas. He was acting too timid. Unsure. It felt all wrong. I opened my eyes to stare into his wide eyes.

  “Talk to me,” I said letting go of him. “Why are you so different?”

  He shifted uncomfortably and looked off in the distance. “I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said. “I missed you so much when you were sick and now that you’re back, I feel like you’re pulling away from me. Don’t do that, Lucas. I can’t take it. This is killing me.”

  “I’m sorry.” But he didn’t sound all that sorry. They were just words.

  The sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. I didn’t have much more time. “Look,” I said, “I want to help you, I really do. But if you won’t talk to me, I might have to tell your parents that something is going on.” I rubbed the back of my head. I could feel a headache coming on. “Or maybe those agents. If what happened to you has anything to do with the round, shiny thing, they might be able to help.”

  “No, don’t do that . . .” He paused like he was trying to come up with something, but the silence that followed told me he was coming up short.

  I held out one hand. “You tell me and maybe I can help. Or—” My other hand extended, I said, “Or you don’t tell me and we involve lots of other people. I don’t want to do that, but honestly, Lucas? I don’t know what else to do.”

  I inched closer and reached up to cradle his face one more time. Mrs. Kokesh had said eyes were the windows to the soul and I wanted a good view. I had expected him to pull away, but he didn’t; he just looked right back at me. If this wasn’t Lucas, who was it? I didn’t get the sense that this was a demon, or any kind of evil possession. This version of Lucas, whoever he was, looked like a scared toddler.

  “You can trust me,” I said. “I can help.”

  We locked eyes for what seemed like the longest time. Finally he said, “Okay. I will tell you.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The scout tried to make sense of this planet and his place in it as Lucas Walker. First, he absorbed information from television and the Internet. He spent an entire day with Eric watching ridiculous things that the boy seemed to find entertaining, but as far as he could tell, none of it held much value for figuring out the human condition. Learning to read didn’t take much time at all. The shapes that comprised their alphabet were primitive, comparatively speaking, and he deciphered the code quickly.

  When Eric gave him Lucas’s tablet, he put it to good use searching for articles that would help him figure out a way to communicate with his home planet. The greatest scientific minds of this world would be novices on his. Planet-to-planet communication, something that was commonplace and had been for generations, was nonexistent here. Some of the humans didn’t even believe there was intelligent life on other planets. He found himself shaking his head, imitating the way Eric shook his when he thought something was particularly stupid.

  When he came across the communications called emails, he read every one, paying special attention to those from Emma. He got insights into the girl’s thoughts and feelings, and her wishes and dreams for the future. All of it was spelled out in the emails. She described activities she’d shared with Lucas and went over conversations they’d already had. Presumably, Lucas would know about all this, so why did she bother to write about it and transmit it to him? So very curious. And another curious thing: Every email ended with “Love, Emma <3.” He understood that letters made words and that numbers were assigned to a numeric value, but why would she put “<3” after her name? Did she consider herself to be less than three? And less than three what? He went over all kinds of possibilities, but none of them made sense, so he filed the question away for another day.

  At times, he amused himself by translating from the telepathic language of his people to words in English. His planet, he decided, would be called Tranquility, for its calm, orderly existence. His ship, the Seeker, for its exploratory nature. The two nurturing beings that created him were, of course, “Mother” and “Father,” and all his many siblings “brothers and sisters.” His role as scout was a “job.” And his match, the one he’d sworn allegiance to? That would be his “girlfriend.” Girlfriend. Such an odd word. Combining the gender with the role somehow elevated it in importance. Emma, he knew, adored Lucas and would even give up her life for him. Scout was not sure that his girlfriend, the one he now thought of as “Regina” in earth language, would do the same. She was smart and strong, but did not seem to favor him over any of the others, even though they’d been chosen to be the match of each other. Most of the time, she overrode his wishes and expressed displeasure with his shy and hesitant ways. He always felt that, just by his very nature, he was a disappointment. Perhaps, though, he was overthinking the whole situation.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  After Lucas agreed to confide in me, he didn’t waste any time. He stood up and extended his hand, a small smile stretching across his face. For a split second, he seemed like my Lucas again. I grabbed his hand and he led me off the porch and around the side of the house. I followed, having to walk quickly to keep up. I asked, “Where are we going?”

  “I will show you,” he said without turning back.

  I thought of our lemonade glasses sitting on the wicker table and how Mrs. Walker would be checking on us in a few minutes only to find us gone. How long before she came looking for us?

  We kept going, past the garage, toward the barn. I realized, seeing him take the lead, that even with his recent weight loss, he was still bigger and stronger than me. If he wanted to harm me, taking me away from the house would be the perfect plan. What if this was just Lucas with a scrambled brain? Maybe the drugs had changed him or maybe it was the lack of oxygen to his brain. Perhaps my confrontation had forced some kind of breakdown. I’d overreacted, I thought. I should have waited to see how things played out. I should have given him more time to recover.

  His hand gripped tighter, squeezing my knuckles, as he pulled me around the side of the barn. The fields far beyond were ringed by a row of trees that blocked the view of the adjacent property. My heart pounded from exertion and fear; if someone wanted to strangle me, this would be the perfect spot. I hated that I was even thinking this way about Lucas. The guy who loved me more than life itself. And I loved him just as much, but I didn’t recognize the stranger he’d become.

  He let go of my hand and thrust his arm upward, one finger pointing to the sky. “Look,” he said, his voice quivering with excitement.

  And in that second, I let go of the notion that my Lucas had somehow morphed into killer Lucas, a guy who would choke me until I stopped breathing, then fling my body out into the field. Standing next to
him like this felt like old times. Like it was just us again. Me and Lucas, or at least a form of him that I could live with if I had to.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at?” I asked.

  “What do you see?”

  The sun was a sliver of light over the horizon, just a glint in the trees off in the distance. Above, the sky blushed orange and pink.

  “The sunset,” I answered. “It’s gorgeous.” It always was. A dusky, blue backdrop interrupted by slashes of light and color. From night to night it was never quite the same, but somehow it was always familiar and beautiful. And it happened every single night. If you gave it some thought, you’d wonder why all of society didn’t shut down to watch this. If we were smart, we’d be turning off our electronics, leaving our homes, and settling down on our porches and driveways just to take it in. Each night a different miracle in the sky. But no, most of us never even bothered to look out the window. While this gorgeous light show went on outside, we did the dishes and texted and argued and watched TV. We let all of those tedious, mundane, everyday things get in the way. “Tonight it’s really pretty.”

  “No,” he said emphatically. “Not the sun.” His arm stretched in an arc above his head, like answering a question in class. He dropped his arm and asked, “Up. What else is up?”

  I squinted. It wasn’t quite dark enough to see much more than the sunset, but I knew the stars were out there. “Everything else. The stars and the moon and other planets.” I struggled to think about what else really was out there. Astronomy wasn’t my thing. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a comet and a meteor. “But they’re all far away.”

  “Not all is far,” he said, shaking his head. “The moon is near. The sun is near.” He raised one finger skyward. “My home is far.”

  “Your home?”

  He nodded, and gave me a look like he was glad I understood, but I didn’t.

  “I don’t get it. What do you mean your home is far?” We were just behind the barn, but still I pointed back the way we’d come. “Your house is right over there.”

  His face fell. “Lucas house is there,” he said, jerking his head to indicate. Again his arm rose, and this time his index finger led the way, pointing to the sky. “My house is there.”

  I felt a chill go up my spine and I took a step away from him. There wasn’t much light left, but I could see the contours of his face—the familiar face that I’d admired and caressed, photographed and sketched. But suddenly, it didn’t feel so familiar anymore. I swallowed back a lump of unease. I had asked him to tell me; now I owed it to him to follow through in a calm manner.

  “So you aren’t Lucas then?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  There were only three possibilities. Either there was nothing wrong with him and he was joking, trying to get a rise out of me. Or the person standing next to me was Lucas, but he had somehow developed a mental illness or brain injury and now believed he was someone else. The third possibility, the one I didn’t want to acknowledge, was that he was telling the truth.

  “So you came from another planet, and now you’re inside my boyfriend?” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.

  “Yes.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “I had an accident,” he said. “The object you call the round, shiny thing?”

  “Yes?”

  “I was inside that. We were shot down.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat and then speed up. His voice sounded so sincere. He believed what he was saying, I was sure of that. “And then what happened?” I asked.

  “The others in my group are dead,” he said. “They stayed with the ship. I did not. I left when it happened.”

  “So you were actually inside the round, shiny thing?” I said slowly and he nodded. “Were there lots of you in there?”

  “No, just me. The others had their own round, shiny things. And all of us were connected to a bigger ship.”

  “But why? Why would you come to Earth?”

  “We are like . . . explorers?” he said. “We visit and record data, and that is all.”

  “Lucas, if you’re messing with me, I’m going to be so mad.” Even as I said it, I knew it was wishful thinking. I wanted him to laugh and say he’d just been fooling around. That he couldn’t believe I fell for it. But Lucas, even with his great sense of humor, didn’t make fun of people. That wasn’t his way.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “But I had to go somewhere and Lucas was dying. I knew I could fix him, and in turn, he could save me.”

  The chill in my spine was proving to be permanent. He was talking complete nonsense, the kind of story that could get a person thrown in an insane asylum, but I could tell he thought he was telling the truth.

  “Okay,” I said, exhaling. “So, just say I believe you. We’ll say that I believe you’re an alien from another planet. A teeny tiny alien traveling in a spaceship the size of a birthday cake. You got shot down, and now all the other aliens you were with are dead. So you were shot down and you crashed in the Walkers’ field and you magically just went into Lucas. So then where did Lucas go?”

  He looked miserable and didn’t say anything, just wrung his hands like an old person. My thoughts spun around and landed on the unthinkable. I choked out the next question. “Is he dead?”

  “Oh no. Lucas is still alive, here in this body, but he is not able to move or talk. It is like he is sleeping.” He nodded to himself, satisfied with his explanation. “A kind of sleep.”

  “Then wake him up.” I heard my voice become harsh. “Get out of there and let me talk to him. I want Lucas back.”

  “Emma, please,” he said. “Emma, I cannot do that. If I go out of Lucas, I will die.”

  “Okay, I have an idea. You go back in your round, shiny thing and go home, and leave Lucas alone.”

  “I wish I could.” He was speaking more quietly now and I had to strain to hear him. “But it is broken and won’t work.”

  A mosquito buzzed around my ear and I waved it away. “But they’ll come looking for you, right? Your people will know that you’re stuck here and they’ll come back.” My mind flipped through all the things pilots did when they were in trouble. Sent up flares and signaled for help. “You must have sent out a distress call or something. They heard it and they’ll come back to pick you up. Right? Isn’t that how it works?”

  “No, my people will not be back. They think I am dead.”

  “But did you even try to contact them?”

  He shook his head. “I could not. It happened too quickly.”

  “Can you contact them now?”

  “I have no way to contact them,” he said. “Emma, you must not tell anyone. You said you could help me.”

  “I know.” Of course, when I said that, I had no idea what I was dealing with. I had to think this through. If Lucas was delusional and thought he’d become the host body for an alien, what would it take to bring him back? “What if you go inside someone else? Then will Lucas come back?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So do it.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  “You can’t or you won’t?”

  His head wobbled from side to side and he didn’t say a word. Finally, I couldn’t take the silence anymore. I said, “If you traveled here from another planet, you must be more advanced than us, so why can’t you figure out how to let me have Lucas back? Are you one of the stupid ones? Is that why they left you behind?”

  He didn’t flinch or move, just miserably took it like he thought he deserved my abuse, which made me even madder. Why wouldn’t he even try to defend his position?

  A voice pierced the night air, coming from the back of the house. Lucas’s mom. “Lucas! Emma!” Only Mrs. Walker could manage to sound pissed off and worried all at the same time.

  The Lucas imposter took off, running back toward the house and leaving me behind. I followed him. It had gotten pretty dark, so I made the trek partially from memory, the sound of L
ucas’s shoes slapping against the ground just ahead of me. The back porch light was on, and now I could see Mrs. Walker standing in the yard, hands on hips. She was an average-looking woman normally, but she turned ugly when she was annoyed and right now she was super ugly. As we approached, she said, “You had me scared out of my mind. I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, slightly out of breath. “We were looking at the stars.” Next to me, Lucas had stopped in his tracks.

  “There are stars in the front of the house too, you know,” she said. “You can see them from the porch.”

  “I know, it’s just that Lucas wanted to show me something.” I almost bit my lip, regretting my explanation, because I knew she could start interrogating me about what Lucas wanted to show me and I had nothing ready to tell.

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, Mrs. Walker went up to Lucas and touched his face. “Lucas, you’re crying? What happened?”

  He was crying? Lucas never cried. When his grandfather died, he didn’t shed a tear. Once, he broke his collarbone midway through a football game, but he kept playing and later on he said it barely hurt. Lucas’s parents always bragged about how tough and brave he was. Even as a little kid, they said, Lucas never cried.

  Was he crying now because of what I’d said? I’d been horrible to him, but somehow I thought this version of Lucas was immune to name calling and accusations. Did I hurt his feelings? Or was this is a physical reaction, Lucas who was trapped deep down inside crying because he couldn’t reach me? But Lucas never cried. So that couldn’t be it.

  “Lucas?” Mrs. Walker lifted his chin to force him to look at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He shook his head but didn’t say a word, so she turned her attention to me. “Emma? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  “What? No, we were just talking.”

  “Did the two of you have a fight?”

  “No!” I said. “I think Lucas is just tired, right Lucas?”

  His head dropped forward. “I’m just tired,” he said.