Eight Days on Planet Earth

by Cat Jordan

  A normal girl doesn’t carry a notebook like this.

  A normal human girl doesn’t carry a notebook like this.

  I want to slap myself silly. In fact, a stupid little giggle bubbles up in my throat and I have to swallow it like spit. No. Just no. And no.

  She is not an alien. She is not from another planet.

  But the notes . . . who keeps notes like that?

  I glance over at Priya, who is on her back, hands by her sides, softly snoring. “Are you crazy?” I whisper. “Or are you what you say you are?”

  I want to believe.

  About a year ago, long before we had any inkling Dad was going to cheat on Mom, let alone hit the road with Carol, my uncle and his wife were over for dinner. It was a weird, middle-of-the-week get-together, something they didn’t usually do. While Brian and I were sitting in my room, all four of the adults downstairs were drinking with every course. Whiskey with their Doritos and dip, white wine with their salads, beer with their baked chicken. By the time they got to dessert, they were thoroughly wasted, which we discovered when we came downstairs scrounging for a snack.

  We found Mom sitting on Dad’s lap while Carol and Jack were leaning into each other and making goofy faces.

  Brian and I couldn’t stop laughing at the four of them as we inhaled all their apple pie à la mode and leftover chips.

  Jack saw us and immediately straightened up, pretending he was actually sober. “Hey there, kiddo, what’s going on? How’s school?”

  Normally I would have rolled my eyes at the kiddo bullshit, but I just shrugged and shoved more chips in my mouth. “’SallrightIguess.”

  “You don’t do much of that stargazing with your dad anymore, do you?” he asked with a nod at my father.

  “Uh, no, not really.” More chips. More pie.

  “Then you won’t miss it when he sells the telescopes.”

  “Sell . . . you’re selling the telescopes?”

  My dad, his cheeks red from the booze, grinned, but it was halfhearted. “Yep. I’m selling it all.” He threw his hand in the air like he was tossing confetti.

  “Why?”

  Mom interrupted. “He doesn’t need it anymore. He’s getting a job!”

  My heart pumped. “You are? Well, that’s . . . that’s awesome.” I was confused. My dad loved his telescope and his stargazing. Why would he get rid of it all? “What kind of job are you getting?”

  “He’s gonna sell cars with me,” Jack said proudly.

  “Cars?” Brian blurted out, his mouth filled with ice cream. “DJ, you can’t sell cars.”

  My father looked sheepish, like he knew Brian was right. He couldn’t sell cars. I couldn’t even imagine him in a tie, or a shirt that had buttons.

  “He can do anything he sets his mind to,” Mom declared. “First the telescopes are going and then the rest of the junk out there.” She met my dad’s gaze and smiled. “That workshop’s going back to what it used to be.”

  “A wine cellar,” Jack said. He high-fived Mom.

  A wine cellar. A job for Dad. No more stars. What was going on here? Had I fallen through to another dimension?

  As my teeth ground through another handful of Doritos and orange cheese dust coated my fingers, I watched my parents plant sloppy kisses on each other. I was glad my father was finally getting a job but disappointed the telescopes were going away—and with them, the heart of my dad’s existence. I knew he’d brought it on himself. He’d done nothing memorable, nothing substantial, in the past ten or fifteen or maybe even twenty years. He needed to move on, move forward, leave this crap behind.

  But part of that crap involved me.

  DAY SIX

  7:23 A.M.

  By the time I stumble into the kitchen, it’s past dawn, but Mom is already gone. I look around for a note telling me she had an early shift at the hospital or an emergency.

  Hmm . . . nothing on the counter or the fridge door, but she left the coffeepot on so there’s a crusty layer of burned black sludge on the bottom.

  Face facts, Matty. That’s your note.

  “Thanks, Mom. Love you too.”

  No sooner have I cleaned up and made fresh coffee than the phone rings in the living room. The landline? Who the hell is calling on the landline? I almost don’t know what I’m hearing. It’s been forever since anyone has actually called it. I snatch it off the cradle like it’s a bomb.

  “Yeah.”

  “Matty, hey.”

  “Em?” I freeze and stare at the phone. “You’re calling me?”

  “Duh.”

  “I mean, on the home phone. This isn’t my cell.”

  Emily sighs, the weight of a thousand worlds on her shoulders. “Nothing gets past you, huh, dipshit?”

  “So thanks for calling and insulting me.”

  “You wanna go to the lake with me and Toad?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The lake? You wanna go?”

  My eyes squint and find the clock on the other side of the room. It’s not even eight. “What are you doing back? I thought you were at your gran’s.”

  She sighs. “Long story.”

  “So you’re back.”

  “Are you not listening? Yes, we’re back. And we’re going to the lake and we’re inviting you.”

  “Um, I have a friend visiting.”

  “That girl? Bring her.”

  I take the phone with me to the kitchen and look out the back door. Priya and Ginger are asleep in the field. A blush comes to my cheeks when I think of her—of us.

  “Going once, going twice . . .”

  “No thanks.”

  “No?”

  I feel my shoulders shrug. “Nah. We’re good.” We.

  Yeah, that’s what I said. Priya and me. We’re good.

  “But—”

  “Gotta go.” I click off the phone and dump it on the table.

  Did I just turn down Emily?

  Yup.

  Did it feel good?

  No.

  It felt awesome.

  I go back to the coffee and hum the theme song to The Twilight Zone a couple of times, and the phone rings again. We really should get caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “We’ll drive,” Em says, as if the conversation never ended.

  “Yeah, no. Not interested.”

  “Why not?”

  “Emily. No.” I pace the kitchen with the phone, still not quite comprehending why Emily is being so obtuse.

  Maybe she doesn’t like hearing no either.

  Em makes a little snorting sound. “Look, I’m trying to be nice.”

  Is she? Does she feel bad she treated me like crap?

  Outside in the field, I see my dog slowly circle Priya, pausing to stretch her back and legs every couple of feet. “Em, I gotta jump, all right? Have fun at the lake.”

  This time I hang up before she can get a last word in . . .

  . . . and then she calls back. I swipe it off the counter before it rings a second time.

  “No, Emily. Not interested.”

  Silence and then . . . “Junior, hey.”

  “Dad?” I feel a huge rock drop right into my stomach.

  “Yeah, hi.” His voice brightens. “You doing okay?”

  “Am I . . . ?” I hold the phone out and stare at it as if I could telegraph to my father my sincere inability to believe he’s calling me. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “That’s good. You’re taking care of your mom?”

  Oh my god, seriously? Like he’s on a trip out of town and I’m watching an invalid?

  I ask him the same thing I asked Em. “You know you’re calling the landline?”

  “Oh right, yeah, I, uh, your number is in my old cell.”

  Which is here.

  He cough-laughs a bit sheepishly. “I could only remember the house number.”

  “So . . . I’m kind of on my way out the door.” Literally. I am literally leaving this very second.

  On the other end of the line,
I hear his clothing rustle as if he were juggling the phone in his shirt. Where is he calling from? Without caller ID I can’t even get an area code.

  Not that I care.

  “Oh sure, okay, well, could you tell your mom I took the lockbox with me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you know if she and Jack were looking for it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay, well, they probably want the deed to the farm.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I place my hand on the door, pressing my palm against the glass. Outside, Ginger and Priya are both standing in the field, probably wondering where I am.

  “So you’re on your way out, huh?”

  “Yup.”

  “Hanging with Toad?”

  “We’re going out to the lake, actually. I’m leaving right now, actually.”

  “Actually?”

  “Yeah, actually.” I feel my internal temperature rise ten degrees. The hand holding the phone starts to get slick with sweat.

  “Okay, well, let me give you my new number in case your mom . . . or you know, you want to call me in the future.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He slowly recites the number while I pour myself a cup of coffee and pretend I’m interested. I hum the Twilight Zone theme song again in my head. That tune never gets old.

  “Uh-huh, okay, yup, got it,” I tell my dad.

  He sounds relieved when I assure him I’ve got all ten digits in the right sequence. “Thanks, Junior. I appreciate it.”

  I wait for him to tell me why he left, to apologize for leaving, to say it was a mistake, but he just keeps thanking me.

  I let the air between us grow heavy and stale, wait for him to puncture it, which he does because he can’t stand the quiet.

  “I’ll let you go.”

  “Yup.”

  “Call me, okay?”

  “Yup.”

  He hangs up—finally—and I shove the conversation out of my mind.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Emily: meet u at lake

  12:07 P.M.

  Priya and I get to the lake before the kids and moms have left, which means towel space is at a premium. The only spot we find is far from the lifeguard tower, which, since the beautiful and out-of-reach Miranda is working, will not be a satisfactory location for Brian. Oh well.

  I spread a couple of towels side by side and encourage Priya to sit down, but she’s gawking openly at the people on the beach, at the children playing in the sand and splashing in the water. She said she’s never been to a lake before. How can you live in Pennsylvania and not see a lake? We have, like, a million of them.

  I take off my sneakers and socks and tuck them into the canvas tote bag I brought our stuff in. It’s already close to ninety and humid as shit.

  I love watching Priya. Her eyes are wide with discovery; she drinks in everything and everyone she sees, from the little kids and their sand castles to the moms and dads with lobster-red skin because they used all their sunscreen on their children.

  She’s like a golden willow bending softly with the breeze; her nose wrinkles with the scents of summer. Her tutu tangles up in her legs and she dances near the gentle surf, kicking up her heels and running away when the water threatens to lap at her toes. The little kids laugh and clap their hands as they run with her.

  I could watch her forever.

  Five minutes later, Brian and Emily arrive—and I feel strangely disappointed. I kind of hoped they wouldn’t show up at all.

  “Dude, lookin’ 1985,” I say to my friend, who’s wearing a pair of mirrored aviator glasses and a black T-shirt over his board shorts. When I look at him, I see my pasty self staring back.

  His eyebrows lift over the top of his glasses and he grins. “She’s here.”

  I glance over my shoulder to Priya, who is playing at the water’s edge. How could he know?

  Emily comes up behind him, dragging their bag of towels and other lakeside crap. “He found the lifeguard schedule online,” she tells me with a note of wonder in her voice. She sounds almost proud of her brother, as if he were a toddler who’d managed to use the toilet instead of crapping his pants as usual.

  “Oh, you mean Miranda,” I say.

  “Now I’ll know every day she’s here,” Brian says as he stares open-mouthed at the lifeguard tower. Miranda is wearing an orange bathing suit, and her black hair is twisted in a braid down her back. Her eagle eyes scan the horizon for an errant swimmer. Her partner is Eric Miller, so Em should be happy. He’s in orange too. Both have superb tans and toned bodies. Whatever. Muscles are so overrated.

  Beside me, Emily spreads a towel and kicks off her flip-flops. Her eyes count the towels already on the sand, and she looks at me. “You brought your friend?”

  “The girl who’s crazy beautiful,” Brian says without taking his gaze from Miranda. “Or did you say crazy and beautiful? I think I was stoned when you texted me that night.”

  I avoid looking at Em but it doesn’t matter, I can feel her eyes on me, drilling into me. “Is this her? The one with white hair?” she asks.

  I nod, and Em nods too. Then very subtly, she turns and looks around her, immediately finds Priya by the water.

  “She must be hot,” Emily says.

  “Why? You think the only reason I’d bring a girl to the lake is ’cause she’s hot? You think I’m that superficial? She happens to be pretty smart, too.”

  “Whoa.” Emily looks up at me, her face a blank. “Are you done, Mr. Paranoid?”

  “Me?”

  “I meant she must be hot, like physically too warm. She’s wearing a heavy skirt and a T-shirt. Why doesn’t she have a bathing suit?”

  “Oh. She, um, she didn’t bring one. This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing.” I watch Priya hop back from the water when a gentle wave laps at her. Her musical laugh carries and I laugh too, infected by it. “Do you really think that skirt is heavy?”

  Em looks at me like I’m crazy. “Duh. It’s a skirt. Look at all those layers.”

  Huh. I thought they were like cotton candy—light and fluffy and feathery. It never occurred to me it would be warm. I call to Priya and she turns with a brilliant smile. Even Emily smiles in return. How could you not? She looks so happy. She has a hard time walking in the sand—who wouldn’t? I jump up and help her back to the towels.

  Naturally, Brian comes over to meet her. I slap at him and point at his glasses. “Dude. Take those things off.”

  “Hey, I’m Brian.”

  “I’m Emily.”

  “I know,” Priya says. “He thinks about you all the time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She means ‘talk’—I talk about you all the time. This is Priya.”

  “Let her sit, Matty,” Em says. She makes space for Priya on the towel between us. As usual, Priya sits with her legs straight in front of her, hands in her lap. “So where are you from?”

  “She’s just visiting,” I say quickly.

  “From where?” Em asks again.

  Priya opens her mouth to answer, but I jump in again. “Not far.”

  She looks at me sharply. “That isn’t true. I come from very far away.”

  “Philadelphia!” Brian shouts. When his sister sighs, he puts his hands on his hips. “What? Philly’s far away.”

  “You moron. She means, like, another state.”

  “Very far,” Priya says.

  “Um—” I say, but am instantly interrupted.

  “Oh, another country then.” Emily turns to Priya and acts all know-it-all. “Are you from India?”

  Priya shakes her head.

  “Pakistan?”

  No again.

  “Egypt?”

  “Emily—”

  Emily shuts me up with a raised hand. “Somalia?”

  “Somalia? Jesus, Emily, no.”

  Priya herself interrupts us. “I’m from a planet—”

  “Hey, how was Gran’s?” I butt in. “You’re back early.”

 
“Near Gliese 581c,” she finishes.

  “Did you say—” Brian starts, but I cut him off too.

  “Did Gran die or something?” I blurt out, earning me scowls from both of my friends.

  “What?” Brian shakes his head. “Not cool, man, not cool.”

  Emily’s stare burns a hole into me. She turns away, but this isn’t the end. She’s got a mystery to solve. The mystery of Priya.

  Just then, the sweet scent of weed mixes with the smell of coconut suntan lotion. Brian holds a joint out to me but I wave my hand, no thanks. “Dude, did you check out that suit on Miranda? Yasssssss,” he drawls. He’s already forgotten that Priya thinks she’s an alien space traveler. Thank god for his short attention span.

  “Brian, hey, asshat? There’re girls here.” His sister punches him in the shoulder. “You wanna put it back in your shorts?”

  “Whatever,” Brian responds, exhaling a thin trail of smoke. “Like you’re not checking out Eric.”

  Emily blushes. “I’m not.”

  “Oh my god, you so are.”

  “Screw you, Toad.”

  Brian jerks his thumb at his sister. “This is the brain trust going to Penn State?”

  “Matthew, what are they doing?” Priya asks, seemingly oblivious, thank god. She points a long arm at a group of kids racing to the raft.

  “They’re swimming,” I say.

  “Don’t you know how to swim?” Em asks.

  “Not everyone learned to swim when they were three, overachiever,” her brother says.

  “My god, stop arguing,” I say. “Come on, Priya, let’s go in the water.”

  I hold my hand to her and help her up. I recognize the wobble in her legs, the imminent buckling of her knees, and grab onto her waist before she can tumble—and before Brian and Em notice.

  Brian doesn’t.

  Em does.

  “She just said she doesn’t know how to swim,” Emily protests.

  “Leave her alone,” her brother mumbles as he pinches out the joint and tucks it into an Altoids tin.

  “She didn’t know the word, but she knows,” I say. Please, God or Universe or whatever, let me be right about this. For once, let me be right.

  “Where are you going?” I hear Emily ask Brian.

  “None of your business” is Brian’s mature retort.

  “Better not be the lifeguard tower.”