Every window was filled with bright, swirling pastels. It looked like someone inside was aiming a dozen spotlights at a giant disco ball for an alien dance party.
But that wasn’t even the strangest part. There were…well, I guess you’d have to call them rainbows…drifting out from every available opening: windows, the space under the front door, the chimney, even cracks between the shingles. They were long ribbons of multicolored light, but the purples and yellows and oranges and all the rest didn’t stay in orderly rows. They melded together to form new combinations or broke apart into dozens of shapes, like bouncing polka dots or squiggly lines that swam about, bringing the patterns to life.
The living rainbows spiraled through the sky, bathing the bed-and-breakfast in a kaleidoscope glow. After two or three passes around the house they would float up into the night to curl around the tops of trees, or coil together into a rainbow whirlpool, or simply rise straight up for the stars, before breaking up like campfire smoke.
It was weird.
After the shock wore off, Amy and I hustled down the street. When we got closer we heard the music. Grandma had one of those antique stereo systems that looks like a big wooden piece of furniture and plays actual records, but I’d never heard it blasting so loud. The song was one of Grandma’s old hippie “classics,” something about the Age of Aquariums.
Hippie music is weird too.
Then I noticed that the lights were moving in sync with the song. Pulsing in time with the drums; rainbow edges going all jagged when the lead guitar took over, and then smoothing out again with the bass; colors flaring brightly as the singers belted out the chorus.
The group of aliens smiled and nodded along with the music as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Which I guess for them was probably the case. This must have been like coming home.
Amy squinted at the front porch. “Wait—where’s my dad?”
Tate wasn’t in his usual evening spot, hunched over on the driftwood bench, waiting for the aliens to return. “I don’t think he’s too interested in collecting day passes right now,” I said. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”
When we opened the front door we saw that, as usual, what was going on inside the B&B was even crazier than how it looked from the outside. Amy and I stopped short and just stared.
It was a psychedelic fever dream come to life. Grandma was twirl-dancing in the middle of the main room in one of her free-flowing, earth-toned tunics. Dozens of bamboo bracelets rattled on her skinny arms as she raised them to the ceiling and waved them in time to the beat. Her face was turned up to take in the swirling lights overhead, her smile beaming even brighter than the rainbows.
She was in hippie heaven.
I finally snapped out of it and pulled Amy inside after me. We ushered in our alien companions, then firmly shut the door. (As if that could possibly help conceal this—whatever this was—from the outside world.)
“Who are they?” Amy said, pointing. It was hard to talk over the music, so I just shrugged and lifted both palms: No idea.
She was referring to the six aliens circling Grandma. They were long, willowy creatures, with reedy legs that made up more than three-fourths of their overall height. Their torsos were skinny cylinders that sprouted wiry arms almost as long as those legs. They were entirely covered in greenish fuzz, like a tennis ball.
And their heads—each of them had a stretched-out neck that ended in what looked like a big ball of fluff, only with glowing blue eyes and a big smile nestled in the middle.
The group spun around the room, with Grandma in the center. They leaped gracefully over couches and chairs like gymnasts, doing perfect splits in the air, their long legs parallel to the floor. They must not have weighed much; they seemed to float a little with each jump.
When they waved their fuzzy arms around like Grandma was doing, living rainbows wafted up from their fingertips, ribbons of light that rose, whirling, into the air.
Mrs. Crowzen and her students had beat us home, and they were sitting cross-legged around the perimeter of the room, taking in the show, pointing at the rising storm of colors, and chattering away to each other. I think they liked it more than the earthling fireworks show.
Not that I could blame them. The sight was pretty amazing. Hypnotic, even. This was confirmed when I looked over at Amy. Her eyes shone as she took in the scene with the same blissed-out expression as Grandma. Apparently her love of all things alien had won out over the need to protect our big secret. Sometimes I think she must be the one related to Grandma.
I scanned the room for Tate, but he wasn’t here. Of course he wasn’t here. Tate would be having a heart attack piled on top of a conniption fit wrapped up in a seizure if he was here.
I was going to have to deal with this on my own.
Timing it just right, like I was slipping between converging defenders in a full-court press, I dashed between two of the dancing aliens into the middle of the circle. I took Grandma by the shoulders.
Her eyes went from half-mast to alert behind the wide pink lenses of her glasses. She looked a little startled, like she was waking from a trance. But she didn’t miss a beat. Grandma grabbed my arms and pulled me into her twirling.
Great. So now I was technically dancing. Which is something I never do, not even at the middle school dances back home. And definitely not as the center of attention in the middle of an otherworldly light show. With an alien audience. And Amy watching.
“What’s going on?” I shouted over the music.
“Oh, isn’t this wonderful?” Grandma spread her arms out to indicate the Thin Green Fuzzies circling us. “They’ve come back at last!”
“Who?”
“The Arkamendian Air Painters!”
As if that explained everything. Or anything.
“Okay, Grandma, but shouldn’t—?”
“They are some of my favorite Tourists and they haven’t visited in years.” More twirling, more beaming.
“But won’t they—?”
“They sponsor troupes that travel from planet to planet, interacting with the atmosphere and manipulating the natural surroundings to create these wonderful symphonies of color and light.” Her eyes went hazy with joy again as she spun me around.
“Right, but we can’t—”
“This is one of their favorite spots because of all the—what is it again?” she called.
“Phosphorescence,” several of the dancing aliens said. Even their voices were fuzzy.
“Yes, that’s it. Phosphorescence.” Grandma sighed dreamily. “They say it makes the colors ever so much brighter. What a glorious spectacle.”
All of this spinning was not good. After corn dogs with ketchup and three bottles of orange soda, I was about to make an ever-so-brightly-colored, inglorious spectacle of my own. All over the carpet.
I finally disentangled myself from her grip. “Grandma!” I shouted it pretty loud. She stopped dancing and really looked at me for the first time. “We need to talk.”
Grandma went over to the stereo and turned the music down a bit, enough to allow a real conversation. The Air Painters continued to do their thing while the rest of the aliens looked on.
Amy joined us, and we huddled in the corner.
“What is it, David?” Grandma was finally fully present, studying my face. After what happened at the beginning of summer—not to brag or anything, but I kind of, you know, saved the town and maybe the entire planet or whatever—I think she really trusted me.
“We need to stop this. Right now. You can see it from outside.”
Grandma waved away my objections. “Oh, what’s a few decorative lights inside a house? Come on, it’s a Fourth of July party!”
“Not exactly,” Amy said. She explained how the rainbows were flying all over outside.
“Oh, dear.” Grandma’s face fell. “I usually drive the Air Painters up the mountain and find a nice meadow well away from town.” She looked around the sitting room, as if suddenly remembering that he
r establishment was, indeed, located on planet Earth. “I was just so excited to see them again.…”
“Look, I don’t think we need to worry too much, Grandma. The whole town was at the park, and they’re all walking home now. I’m sure no one is coming this way.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. “Let’s just postpone your little reunion party until tomorrow. We’ll even come along, right, David?”
“As long as I don’t have to dance.” I sort of blurted it out. I felt a little bad, but Grandma didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay,” she said, sweeping the hair out of her eyes and smoothing her tunic. “I’ll just tell everybody to—”
That’s when the front door burst open and the Arkamendian Air Painters started screaming.
The thing that zoomed in looked like a purple beach ball with six legs. But when its mouth opened, most of that round body seemed to disappear, and it was more a black cavern with teeth racing into the sitting room.
It took a flying leap onto the couch, bounced off the cushions, and rocketed into the air, jaws snapping furiously in an attempt to “catch” the rainbows. Using the sofa like a trampoline, it wriggled in the air for maximum hang time and tried to bite the colors at the apex of each jump. It made a whistly-growling noise when the rainbows floated out of reach.
The Arkamendian Air Painters broke their circle and dashed all over the room, still screaming fuzzily. The rainbow thingies must have been tied to their emotions or something, because the light-ribbons flashed like neon warning signs and then turned completely black. It looked like an army of shadows swirling around as the room was plunged into a churning gloominess.
This got the bite-happy beach ball even more excited. It leaped off the couch and scampered straight up one of the walls, darting this way and that, big mouth snapping in every direction. Finally, it zoomed above our heads in a circle, body perpendicular to the ground as it clung to the tops of the walls. It moved so fast that it became a purple blur, almost like one of the living rainbows themselves.
The Air Painters huddled together, casting worried glances overhead, their eyes now glowing with an eerie redness that cut through the spinning shadows. Yikes. What had been a bright and beautiful scene a few moments ago had become pretty creepy.
Finally the beach ball creature slowed down, worked its way to the middle of the ceiling and hung there, upside down, mouth gaping wide to collect the ribbons of floating darkness that were drifting upward. A long tongue shot out and whipped around in all directions, apparently trying to lasso the shadow-ribbons and pull them in, frog-style. This did not work.
Grandma put her arms around the Air Painters and spoke in soothing tones as they trembled. Gradually their glowing eyes faded from an alarming red to a softer pink.
But the alien kids were delighted. “Snarffle!” they cried, laughing and pointing as he kept trying, without any success whatsoever, to eat the rainbows.
All the kids loved Snarffle. He had shown up in one of the short-circuiting transporters at the beginning of summer and now was sort of my pet. And after helping save the planet, he had become the B&B’s mascot.
I walked over and stood directly under the purple alien. When he saw me, his little tail whirled in a circle and his tongue wagged so hard that warm slobber drops splattered my face.
I stretched my hands out, palms up. “Come on down, boy.” He dropped from the ceiling, straight into my arms. I scratched the pattern of bright blue dots on his backside, and he wriggled all over with pleasure. He still kept one eye on those shadows, though, which were slowly transforming back into tasty-looking rainbows as the Air Painters calmed down.
All of the alien students clapped their little hands when I caught him. (Amy had taught them the human custom of applause, and now they did it whenever they could. I had recently earned clapping for such awesome feats as taking out the garbage and washing the dishes.)
“It’s okay,” Amy said, joining Grandma in soothing the Arkamendians. Some of them were shivering hard enough to shed green fuzz all over the carpet. (Too bad there aren’t vacuum cleaners made for sucking up those hard-to-reach alien fuzz balls.) “Snarffle is our friend. He won’t hurt you.”
Snarffle dog-smiled and made his happy-whistle to emphasize the point. He twirled his propeller tail even faster, the tip smacking me in the face.
“That’s right,” Grandma cooed, rubbing the backs of those willowy aliens. “He just got excited by your beautiful creations. There, there. Nothing to be frightened of.”
But what walked through the door next looked more frightening than any slightly crazed, mouth-snapping beach ball from outer space.
Robert Tate’s jowly face was brick red, and patches of sweat spread darkly from the armpits of his extra-large khaki uniform. He was fighting to catch his breath, but it came off more like seething. The handle of Snarffle’s leash dangled from one white-knuckled fist, ending in shredded material where it must have ripped in half.
The Head of Security kicked the door shut behind him. “Just what”—huff, gasp—“in the Sam Hill”—pant, wheeze—“is goin’ on in here?” Tate stared daggers at the living rainbows still swirling in the air, swiveled his head slowly to take in the alien crowd with a sneer, and leveled a stern gaze at Grandma.
She smiled sweetly at him, then swept both hands grandly at the Arkamendian Air Painters, the gesture completely unapologetic. “Some of my favorite Tourists have returned. We’re having a little Welcome Back party.”
“But those confounding lights!” He had gotten a little wind back and it came out in a half roar, with some flying spittle for emphasis. The fiery flush of anger spread from his cheeks to his forehead until he almost looked like a Tourist from a demon planet. “I could see ’em three blocks away! And furthermore, I should never have—”
Little Kandeel burst into tears. She was trying to hide behind a lamp stand, and her skin had gone mahogany to match the varnished wood, complete with little knotholes all over her body. I guess some aliens can cry a lot more than humans, because within a few seconds she was standing in a puddle of tears.
Not that I could blame her. If I went to another planet and saw something like Tate, I’d probably start bawling too.
“See what you’ve done?” Grandma said, hands planted on her hips.
“What I’ve done?” It was a full roar now. “These colors are lighting up the night for everyone to—”
“Oh, hush!” Grandma matched him, volume-wise. “A few lights are one thing, but all of your hot air can’t be helping. They can probably hear you in the mayor’s office downtown.”
Kandeel choked out another sob. Amy moved toward her, but Snarffle was faster. He leaped out of my arms, bounded over to Kandeel, and started licking the tears right off her cheeks. Pretty soon a smile crept across her face, and then she threw both arms as wide as she could and hugged the round alien tight. Her body color morphed into an exact match, right down to the blue polka dots.
Kanduu joined them, first putting an arm around his sister, and then hugging Snarffle along with her. The purple alien quickly switched from sympathetic comforter to shameless affection monger, turning over and angling his patch of bright blue dots toward them so they could scratch his sweet spot. The other students gathered around, laughing, happy to oblige.
I motioned to Amy, and we stepped in between Grandma and Tate, who were still glaring at each other. Sometimes we sort of had to do recess-monitor duty with those two.
“Dad, you can’t just come in here yelling and screaming and scaring children,” Amy said.
“And Grandma,” I added, “you know he has a point. We can’t have all of these lights floating around outside.”
“May as well put up a neon sign saying ‘Aliens on Vacation,’” Tate muttered.
“Oh, why don’t you take a twenty-year vacation?” She wouldn’t even look at him.
“Really, Grandma?” I tried to use that I’m-more-disappointed-than-mad tone that parents are so good at.
“Dad, you’re not helping. Let’s have a reasonable discussion about this.”
Tate cleared his throat. “All righty, I can have a reasonable discussion.” He adjusted his belt higher on his round belly. “How about you tell me just what purpose all of this serves?” He gestured above us, where the last traces of rainbow were slipping up the staircase and through the chimney.
“Purpose?” Grandma said. “Oh, isn’t that just like you. Sometimes beauty is a purpose in and of itself.”
Tate snorted in disgust. “Well, there has to be some reason you’d put the whole operation at risk like this. Any fool could tell something alien is going on here. Any old fool at all.” He waved a hand in the air. “From outside, it’s like the very sky itself is on fire, swirling around with all of them crazy colors. There’s just no other reasonable explanation.”
“Well, well…that certainly sounds familiar,” Grandma said with a mischievous little smile. “I’m sure glad I saved this. Thought it might come in handy someday.” She crossed to the coffee table and picked up an old copy of the Forest Grove Gazette, the edges of the newspaper yellowed with age. “Remember when you were interviewed after taking your scout troop camping up on the mountain, about five years ago? I took out this article to show the Arkamendians.” She held it up so we could see:
SHERIFF GETS RARE GLIMPSE OF NORTHERN LIGHTS
Local lawman Robert Tate claims to have seen the aurora borealis, the spectacular phenomenon known as the northern lights, from his Mt. Baker–area campsite last Saturday evening.
“It was like the very sky itself was on fire, swirling around with the craziest colors,” Sheriff Tate said.
Normally, the natural display of multicolored lights splashed across the sky is only visible from regions much farther north, but Tate insisted this is what he and his Boy Scout troop had witnessed. “There’s just no other reasonable explanation,” he said. “I may not be much of an astronomer, but any fool could tell you those were the northern lights. Any old fool at all. And besides, it was one of the finest experiences of my life.”(Story continued on page B4)
Aliens in Disguise Page 3
