The Short-term Fix

by Yettaren

Chapter One

        Kid, you ready? The voice that echoes in my head sounds like Hank’s, giving one last grunting order. I wonder if I’ll be able to shake it or not. After all, five years is a long time to be in one place. For me.

        I’m ready as I’ll ever be. I take one last look around the room, and try to see if I have any nostalgia at all. The built-up grime on the whitewash, the peeling paint, the holes that the mice scurried in and out of. Nope, no nostalgia at all.

        It was a good place to be. It kept me at Forrester Middle, and then West Roswell High with Max and Isabel. Hank was a shit, but he kept his nose out of my business. And what else could you ask for when you’re an alien in a human town, alone and dependent on stupid foster families to keep you fed and legal? He didn’t ask questions.

        And I have to remember that. It’s when they start asking questions that I end up screwed over. Mr. Velasquez, my brand spanking new caseworker waiting outside, I hope he understands that. My last caseworker did, I think it’s why he left me alone with Hank for so long. And he knew Hank was a shit. But I didn’t care, so he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much of anything the last year or two, I think that’s why he’s selling used cars now.

        Mr. Velasquez, he’s young. He just got his masters degree in social work. He’s an idealist.

I fucking hate idealists.
       
I think he knows I hate him. He seems kind of scared of me.

        He must have read my file.

        I have a reputation. I’m not the worst foster kid in the Chaves County system. There’s a kid who’s back at the orphanage for the tenth time, Billy Miller, who deliberately sets fires and kills squirrels and stuff. He’s fourteen and is a freshman at West Roswell. I don’t really know him, I just know of him. I know we’re both in the system. I’m scared of him, too. He’s the kind of kid who if he ever knew what I was, he’d probably dissect me himself. And have fun doing it.

        I heave the duffel bag over my shoulder and head out of the room without a glance back. I hope I get my own room at the new place. It comes in handy for late-night excursions, which have come more and more often lately.

        My mind flashes briefly to her room, being in her bed, surrounded by her and her girly things. Her vials of oils, her perfumes, her butterflies, her birdcage. Her soft lips, her soft thighs. I want more of that. In fact, I want it now. I wonder for just a moment if Mr. Velasquez would drive me to her house… he’s on a schedule, though, and he’s ready to go. It’ll have to wait. Waiting is supposed to make it that much sweeter, but the waiting part is hard.

        “You sure you have everything?” he asks. I glance down at him and nod. He’s really short. I wonder if that’s part of why he’s scared of me. He thinks I could pick him up and throw him. I probably could.

        Without another word, little Mr. Velasquez turns and heads for his car. I wonder if he’s wondering what happened to Hank. Why a guy who’s lived in Roswell for years would suddenly pick up and pack out, leaving his foster kid behind. What kind of kid would drive somebody out like that. I think that’s the big question.

        Hey. I stayed in one place for five years. More than five years. Five years and two months. And seven days. My new record.

        And my standing record. In another year, four months and twenty-two days, I “officially” turn eighteen. And then I’m out.

        We talked about me getting out. Isabel and I. Her dad’s a lawyer, she says he can get kids out on their own. It’s tempting, the thought that I could live alone and not have anybody bothering me. Just be able to do what I wanted, when I wanted. But that means going to the court. It’s like I told Isabel, we can’t do that. I spend enough time in a courtroom as it is. No questions. Just keep going through the system, that’s me. Until I can finally get out.

        I’m out of here.

        I almost ran away. I did run away. I was almost there when I decided to come back. It’s the hardest decision I ever made in my life, but this is where I need to be for now. We talked about getting me out, but I can’t. I just can’t go through with court right now. Better to go through with another year of foster care. It’s just another year. Four months. And twenty-two days.

Chapter 2


        The drive to my new “situation” is a long one. In fact, once we pass the Lift-Off gas station, I start to worry. We’re not in the West Roswell High school district any more. Mr. Velasquez didn’t say anything about changing schools. I can’t change schools. Not that I’m a big fan of West Roswell as an institution, but I need Max and Isabel. And Maria. I’m already on edge.

        But then I realize that despite crossing district lines, this neighborhood is only about half a mile from the DeLuca house. That could be a good thing. A really good thing.

        Mr. Velasquez’s old sedan pulls up in front of a one-story house. A house. One that can’t pick up and leave on its own four wheels. This is a nice change.

        I’m trying to be optimistic. I’m really trying. I suck at it.

        It’s light blue, with dark blue windowpanes and flower beds outside each window. Planted with pansies. Maria will love it. I’ll have to bring her here soon. I could never bring her to the trailer park. I can’t believe I’m already thinking about what Maria will think. How can she do this to me? How does she have this hold on my mind?

        “The Butlers are good people, Michael,” Mr. Velasquez tells me as he turns the car off. “I’ve done several interviews with them. Their hearts are in the right place, and they really want to help you.”

        Good, then they can leave me alone. Unfortunately, I know that’s not the kind of help he means. They’re fresh. Not burned out on the system, like Hank.

This could be trouble.
       
“For the love of god, would you say something?” Mr. Velasquez bellows at me, and I jump, my head bumping against the roof of his little sedan.

        Okay, maybe he’s not such an idealist.

        “Whatever,” I say, not sure what else he wants me to say. I hear him sigh, but ignore it. I leap out of the car and go around to the trunk, which he’s already popped, to grab my duffel bag.

        He leads me up to the front door. It’s a tiny little porch, with a hummingbird feeder dangling tantalizingly from the eaves. Mr. Velasquez rings the doorbell, and Fur Elise sounds in a high-pitched tone from the inside of the house. I know that’s going to get real old, real fast. My friends are definitely using the window. But then, they usually do.

        The man who answers the door is tall and beefy with balding close-cropped hair. Taller than me. He could take me in a fair fight. I immediately try to stop from thinking like that. But after years of Hank, it’s my mindset. I can’t help it. I hate it. I hate myself for thinking like that already. I hate myself.

        “Toby,” my small and already disillusioned caseworker greets him, “I want you to meet Michael Guerin.”

        Toby Butler, I presume. He opens the screen door and lets us in.

        The middle of the house is one great room. There’s a dining room to my right, a table covered by a lace tablecloth, a chandelier, and more china than I want to see in one place. To my left is the living room – no, there’s two living rooms. All in the same room. The one beside me is the formal one, coffee table books, and beyond that is the casual one. TV and magazines. Armchairs. I spot a kitchen table around the divider from us, and figure the kitchen is just past the dining room. It’s all very static. Very clean. Very old. Very different from Hank’s place.

        “Michael, it’s so nice to meet you finally,” Toby says, pumping my hand. He has a firm grip. “Veronica, Michael’s here,” he calls. He turns back to me. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Michael.”

        “Yeah?” I ask, trying not to press too much. “Any of it good?”

        Toby smiles, and it’s a smile that instantly sends a case of the creeps down my spine. “Some,” he says. “I hear you have a wonderful artistic talent.”

        That damn art show at school keeps turning up. You put one piece in one exhibit at school, and suddenly it’s all over your file. I think about trying to explain that it was a fluke, but that would lead to more questions that I don’t want to even think about right now. “Yeah, I guess I like painting.” I really don’t.

        “Maybe we can set you up with some art supplies, how would that be?” a woman asks. It would suck. Veronica Butler, small, plain, proper, comes around the corner from the kitchen. She matches the house perfectly. I don’t know how else to describe it.

        “Why don’t we all have a seat and get to know each other?” Mr. Velasquez asks.

        “Sure, sure, that’d be wonderful,” Toby says enthusiastically, and I realize that he could easily throw Mr. Velasquez, too, if it came down to it. I wonder if that’s a good thing.

        I end up in an armchair on my own, with the Butlers on the couch and Mr. Velasquez in the armchair beside me. I feel like I’m on display. It’s been so long since I’ve been introduced to a new place. I briefly remember my last introduction. Hank seemed cool at first, too. So much for first impressions. Right.

        “Michael,” Mr. Velasquez began, “I want you to know that we’ve had to pull some strings for you.”

        Yeah, thanks.

        “You may have noticed that we’re not in your school district anymore. Now, I know this all happened suddenly, but I went out of my way to submit the paperwork to keep you zoned in for your old school.”

        I feel a wave of relief. Facing high school as the only… alien… would have been even worse than facing high school as one of three.

        “Michael, with your recent troubles, this is going to call for some extra work on your part. I know you’ve been arrested twice in the last few months.”

        “Both times were a mistake,” I blurt out.

        Veronica raises a thin eyebrow at me.

        I lower my voice. Sound casual, idiot. “I was getting some stuff from the UFO Museum for my friend, who works there. I lost the keys, so I had to break in. And then Hank went missing, but that wasn’t my… fault.” Both flat lies. I did break into the UFO Museum, even if Max covered for me, and Hank disappearing was my fault.

He left because of me.

        “I know, Michael,” Mr. Velasquez says, “but still, it’s time for you to turn around.”

        “We’re here to help you,” Toby adds.

        Gee whiz, that’s great, thanks, guys.

        “Your grades are slipping,” Mr. Velasquez says, “and your school attendance record while at your last home was, and there’s no better way to put it, abysmal. If West Roswell means so much to you, you have to earn it.”

        I do not like where this is going. I do not.

        “You have two months to bring your average up to a B,” Mr. Velasquez says. “Anything in the B range. A B-minus is fine. Just something above a D-plus.”

        “It’s passing,” I mumble.

        “If you do not have a B average in two months,” Mr. Velasquez continues, “you can look forward to matriculating at Goddard High.”

        Goddard! “I’ll work on it,” I sigh.

        “We’re here to help, Michael,” Toby says. “Veronica teaches middle school math, she can tutor you in mathematics. And I work in government, so I can help you
with your social studies.”

        I try not to react one bit when Toby says he works for the government. My senses are attuned to this kind of thing by now. Not a glimmer of reaction crosses my face. “What do you do?” I ask him, sounding bored.

        Toby grins at me for the first time. “Top-secret. You understand.”

        I think my jaw drops a little, but that’s okay. Any normal kid would react like that.

        “Oh, Toby, don’t be so dramatic,” Veronica says. “Michael, he does paperwork.”

        I just bet he does.

        “We’re here for you,” Toby repeats.

        “There are two other children in this home,” Mr. Velasquez continues on. “Annie and Nate. Nate is fifteen, Annie is twelve. They should be home from school soon.”

        “They both go to Goddard,” Toby confirms.

        “I believe you’ll be sharing a room with Nate?” Mr. Velasquez asks, and Veronica nods.

        I don’t see any need to hide my disapproval. Dammit. This is going to be hard. Sneaking out with a roommate. Not easy.

        “We have rules,” Toby adds. “We have to know where you are at all times.” I feel a sinking feeling deep down. “You have a curfew of six o’ clock on school nights, ten o’ clock on weekends.”

        “Ten!” I burst out.

        “We’ll see if your behavior shapes up,” Toby says. “You will have chores to perform at home.” Yeah, that I’m used to. Hank pretty much used me as his personal slave. Whatever.

        Veronica is reading the despair on my face. “It’s not all torture, some of it’s dandy, Michael,” she says. “We try to plan one family activity every Sunday.”

        She has to be kidding me. First of all, dandy? And second, a fun Sunday for me is breakfast at the Evans house, watching cartoons with Max, lunch at the Crashdown, hanging out shooting the breeze all afternoon, a movie at the movie theater. That’s a fun Sunday. Spending time with these people is not high on my priority list.

        Somehow, I can already tell this situation won’t last long. I don’t see any need to break it to these nice folks just yet, though.

        “After church,” Veronica adds, completing her earlier thought. I try not to cringe like I want to. Church. Goddammit, they’re going to drag me to church?

        “Michael,” Mr. Velasquez says in a stern voice that makes me look up at him like a guilty puppy. Has he been reading my mind? “I want to be honest with you for a moment and remind you that this is very much a last chance for you. It’s hard to find good homes willing to take in teenagers. Your next stop very well may be the orphanage again if this doesn’t work out.”

        His voice sounds threatening. Like I’m that scared of the orphanage. I was there once, when I was nine, for a few weeks. It wasn’t too bad. I bet if I was there again I could break out pretty easily. No matter how many times they caught me, how bad could it be?

        The fact that I’m already contemplating how to break out of the orphanage does scare me. I guess. Just a little.

        “Maybe we can go over a few things while Michael unpacks?” Mr. Velasquez asks. Veronica rises stiffly from the couch.

        “Your room is just through here,” she says. She leads me to the alcove between the two living rooms. “The bathroom is here,” she says, pointing straight ahead. “Annie’s room is right there.” She points to the room facing the front of the house. The door is closed, but it’s decorated with a sign reading “BOYS NOT ALLOWED”. Nice and welcoming. “And you and Nate sleep over here.”

        I have to smile at the sign on the door: “GIRLS NOT ALLOWED”. I wonder how much that rule is enforced.

        My smile drops when I see how small the room is. Two single beds, each covered in a blue comforter, with a dresser between them. A closet, two desks. There’s shelves going around the top of the room, covered in model airplanes and boats and Lego designs. A New York Yankees poster over what must be Nate’s bed.

        “This is Nate and Annie,” Veronica says, reaching to the dresser for a photo. I try not to act interested, but I am. And I’m also not totally surprised to see from the picture that Annie is disabled. She has Down Syndrome. I’m glad I get to react to that now, and not when I meet her. For a moment I feel bad, then I remember that as far as social services is concerned, I’m as much of a special needs kid as she is. Probably more so, at least she’s cute. Little. And then I don’t feel so bad. I wonder if Nate has any disabilities that don’t show up in the picture, but he looks like a normal, handsome, blond, football-player type. No, baseball. Yankees poster.

        “Your bed will be this one,” she says, pointing to the one with the blank wall. “You can use the top two drawers of the dresser, and half the closet. Nate cleaned it out for you this morning. If you have any questions, let us know.”

        She leaves, and I close the door behind her. Alone. Finally.

        Very much… alone.

        They seem so normal. With the exception of the fact that Toby could very well be involved in the hunt to discover what I really am, they seem like a nice, normal foster family. I haven’t been in a normal household in a long time.

        And of course, I can’t be a part of it. I have more important things to worry about.

        I’m glad to see that there’s two windows, each facing a different way, and even a door. I investigate. The door opens onto a screened porch, which opens into a fenced yard. But on the other side of the porch… it looks like it’s Toby and Veronica’s room. The windows it is. Then again, if the screen door isn’t too creaky… but I have plenty of practice getting in and out of windows. I can handle it.

        I collapse onto the bed. Stiff mattress. It’s okay, I can handle that, too. The mattress at Hank’s place was old and used, but it got to be comfortable after awhile. The only weird part was whenever I would hit a growth spurt and have to make a new indentation in the mattress.

        I glance over at the windows. They have screens… I’ll have to navigate that. Everything in this damned house is screened. I could just try to melt the screen and reform it, but not with a roommate. Cause that’s the other thing. No more casually going to my room to practice my powers. Now I’ll have to watch out for this Nate kid. I’m getting better at using them, but that’s not going to improve much.

        There’s a telephone on the desk. I sit up at this new revelation. This is a good thing.

        I hop out of the bed and walk over to the desk. Then I remind myself that school just let out. Nobody’s home yet. But Max and Isabel share a cell phone. Fingers trembling, I punch in the number. After three rings, Izzy answers.

        “Hello?”

        “Isabel?”

        “Michael!” she says. “Where are you? Are you at your new home yet?”

        “Yeah, yeah I’m here,” I say. “356 Summerwalk Circle. The phone number is…” I glance at the desk. “555-0092.”

        “Hold on, hold on,” she says, and I hear her scrambling. “Okay. How is it?” she asks anxiously. Leave it to Isabel to worry.

        “Seems fine,” I say. I want to mention Toby and his job, but there’s just no guarantee it’s safe. I don’t know yet how far sound carries in this house. “More rules. Two other kids.”

        “I’m sorry,” Isabel says, and she’s genuine. “Summerwalk? Isn’t that in the Floral Hills subdivision?”

        “Yeah, yeah, I’m in Floral Hills.”

        “That’s Goddard,” she says, again anxiously.

        “It’s okay,” I say quickly. “My caseworker set it all up. I’m still going to West Roswell.” No need to mention the grades clause. I can see it now, Isabel taking on my GPA as her personal project. I don’t enjoy being any project of Isabel’s. “Hey, do you have the jeep right now?”

        “I’m in the jeep right now,” she says. I hadn’t noticed.

        “You’re driving and talking?”

        “Yes.”

        “Then how did you write… never mind.” We’ll compare alien notes later. I have a feeling that’s the answer I’m looking for. Good old Isabel. “Is Max with you?”

        “No, no, he stayed late to work on a bio lab.” With Liz. I hear the disgust in Isabel’s tone. “I’m picking him up in an hour and a half and we’re going to dash to the mall and pick up a couple of things. Want to come?”

        “I don’t know,” I say. I glance up at the door. Isabel and the mall is never a good combination… but at least it would get me out. Maybe it’s good to start establishing just how independent I am from the whole family thing. “Okay. Pick me up at five?”

        I hear a knock on the door. “Hold on. Come in?”

        Toby is standing there, looking down at me. “Making plans already?”

        I cover the mouthpiece. “I need to go help my friends with an errand.”

        “No,” Toby says.

        “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hear Isabel moaning in my ear. I try to tune her out. But I’m thinking the same thing.

        “I need to get the homework from them,” I say. “I missed school today with the move and all.”

        “Can they bring it over here and drop it off?”

        Can you go shove it? “Drive all the way to Floral Hills just to drop off the history assignment?” Isabel asks. “Michael, you should know that we don’t have any history homework.” And god knows it’s the only class I have with her. Actually, everybody I know is pretty much in history class. “Would you do it if we did?”

        “What about the English homework?” I ask.

        “I don’t know. Ask Maria, she’s in your class. Oh, god,” Isabel says, suddenly realizing. “You are turning into a pig.”

        “What?” I ask helplessly. “What did I say?”

        “Nothing,” Isabel sighs. “You’re hopeless. Listen, we’ll be there for support. Give me two hours. I’ll round up the troops. We’re setting you free, soldier.”

        “Hold off, captain. Not today.”

        “Are you sure?”

        “Yeah.”

        There’s a pause. “Take care, Michael.”

        “Yeah.”

        “I mean it. Be careful, take care of yourself. Don’t piss anybody off. Yet. Okay?”

        “Okay, okay. Jeez, Isabel.”

        “Bye.”

        I hang up the phone with a sigh and swing the chair around. Toby is taking a seat on Nate’s carefully made bed. He glances around the room and takes a deep breath before speaking.

        “Isabel?” he asks. He cocks his head at me. “Girlfriend?”

        “No,” I mumble. “Just a friend.”

        “Michael,” he says. “I know your friends have good reputations. But if that’s not enough to keep you out of trouble, maybe you need friends who are more supportive of you.”

        Now, this hits a nerve. “My friends,” I say, feeling my jaw clench out of habit, “are supportive of me.”

        “Maybe so,” he says, “but they do need to know what’s best for you. And right now, cavorting around Roswell doesn’t seem to be what’s best for you.”

        I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “We just want to know where you are. We expect you to check in. And we expect honesty. I don’t know what you’ve learned in your other homes, but Butlers are honest.”

        “I’m not a Butler,” I say automatically. “I’m a Guerin.” The only one.

        Toby detects my hostility straight off. “While you are under this roof, you are a Butler,” he says. “You are a member of this family now, Michael, and you will act like one. Act like an adult, and be treated like an adult. Act like a child, and you will be treated like a child.”

        “Do adults have to check in and be home by six?” I ask.

        “Yes,” Toby says, “they do.”

        There’s no point in arguing with him. “Okay,” I say. I’m afraid to ask what time children have to check in.

        The phone rings, and Toby moves to answer it. “Hello?” A strange look crosses his face. “It’s for you,” he says, and hands me the phone.

        “Hello?” I ask.

        “Michael! Thank god you’re there.”

        It’s Maria. Isabel must have called her right away. That was fast.

        “Yeah, look, I’m busy right now. Can you call later?”

        “I just wanted to hear your voice,” she says, and I can hear the hurt in her. Shit. This is so out of control. What’s even worse is how happy I am to hear hers. Mud be damned.

        “What was the English homework?” I blurt out.

        “You’re going to do the English homework?” Maria asks skeptically.

        “I don’t know. I guess.” What else am I going to do locked up in this house?

        “Okay… you’re supposed to have read up through Act III of a Midsummer Night’s Dream by tomorrow and be prepared with two discussion questions.”

        “I don’t even understand Act I,” I say.

        “I have Cliffs Notes,” Maria says brightly.

        Maria truly is a goddess. Chalk up yet another reason I can’t resist this girl. “Can you bring them over?” I ask, and then stop. I look up at Toby. He’s sitting on Nate’s bed, still watching me intensely. “It’s a friend from school. Can she come over and study?”

        “Who is it?” Toby demands. “It’s a girl?”

        “Yes,” I say slowly. Did he not hear right before? “Her name’s Maria DeLuca. She doesn’t have an arrest record.”

        “A what?” Maria squeals. I heave a sigh.

        “Is that your girlfriend?” Toby asks, intrigued.

        “Yeah, Michael,” Maria mimics through the telephone. “Is she your girlfriend? Huh? Huh?”

        For the love of god. “Sort of?” I say.

        There’s a pause on Maria’s end. “Well, I guess that’s an improvement,” she says slowly.

        “Maria, please,” I say. “Not now.”

        “Well, look, spaceboy, I can’t come over. I have to work the dinner shift, and have a major, major test in geometry tomorrow that I have got to cram for. I’ll meet you for breakfast at the CrashDown, though. We can go over it then.”

        “I don’t know if I can get there,” I say. “Can you pick me up?”

        “Pick you up?” Toby asks.

I hear her sighing into the phone.

“For school tomorrow,” I explain to him. “She lives near her and she has a car.”

“Veronica was going to drive you.”

        “Maria will save her the trouble,” I protest. “And we have to study together for English, but she can’t do it tonight. We were gonna meet in the morning to do it.”

        Toby thinks about it. “We’ll try it,” he says, as though he’s granting me a huge favor.

        “Look, I have to go,” Maria says. “If I’m late again, Mr. Parker’s gonna kill me. Bye.” With that, the line goes dead.

        “Bye to you, too,” I say lovingly to the dial tone, before hanging up the phone.

        “’Sort of’?” Toby asks.

        I take a deep breath. “Yeah. Sort of.” I run a finger through my hair.

        Toby nods slowly. “I see.”

        I remain standing by the phone. I kind of like towering above him for the moment. Toby’s a big guy. Toby works for the government. Top-secret. What the hell does a top-secret government employee do in Roswell, New Mexico, anyway? I can’t be too sure, but as a bona fide alien specimen, I have to admit I’m less than enthused about the prospects.

        “Maria DeLuca, she’s in your grade at West Roswell?”

        Good lord, I’m being interrogated. What if this guy is an alien researcher? What if he does have a clue about me? Wouldn’t he want to know everything he possibly could?

        Then again, what if he’s a new foster parent just fishing for a little info?

        I’ve got to figure this out soon. Otherwise I’m gonna go insane.

        “Um, yeah,” I say. “Look, we’re not really dating. We’re just… sort of… close.”

        Close. Three nights ago I spent the night curled up in her bed. Granted, her mother chased me out with a newspaper the next morning, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s the one safe, sure thing to happen to me over the past week from hell.

        “Aha,” Toby says. “Listen, Veronica and I were thinking we could all go out for dinner as a family. Once Annie and Nate finish their homework.”

        “Oh,” is all I can say. “Okay. I guess.”

        “Because, Michael,” Toby continues, sternly. “The Butlers are a family. I know you’re not used to that, but we do things as a family unit. And as long as you live here, you are a part of that family unit.”

        The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach is getting bigger. A family unit. A nosy, invasive, obnoxious family unit.

        This is definitely not good for my situation. Definitely, definitely not good.

        I already miss Hank.

Chapter Four

        Toby leaves me alone to unpack, not that it takes long. I have clothes, I have books. I have a few school supplies. I have the healing stones. I glance around the room, wondering where I can hide them, and finally stash them on a ledge underneath the bed. Surely no one will find them there. I unfurl my rumpled Metallica poster, and lay it on the bed while I search for tape. I find it in the form of scotch tape in the desk. How weird is it to be in a house with real paint on the walls again? Whatever, I’m using the scotch tape. Within moments, Metallica is staring back at the Yankees.

        There’s a kickass stereo sitting beside the desk. I check out the CD rack and see absolutely nothing worth noting. I hope they’re Veronica and Toby’s CD’s, and not Nate’s, cause if this kid listens to country music... we are going to have issues pretty quickly. Anyway, I intend to make good use of this equipment, and I do, momentarily.

        The door bursts open, and the blond kid from the photo comes barreling through. He heaves a Jansport bookbag onto the bed, crosses his arms, and stares at me from across the room.

        “You’re Michael?”

        “Yeah,” I say, studying him back. “You’re Nate.”

        For a moment, we size each other up. He’s a fairly preppy-looking kid. I can’t believe he’s in foster care. Maybe he’s not, nobody ever said he was a foster and not adopted or a real kid or something. No, his coloring is much lighter than Toby’s or Veronica’s. Maybe he’s adopted, though. I wonder how he’s sizing me up.

It’s times like this that I actually kind of like having a secret to keep. A part of me that nobody can guess from looking at me. I’m not the person he’s sizing me up as. I know that, and he never will.

        “Welcome,” Nate says, though his voice doesn’t really sound like it. Oh, yeah, this situation is already gangbusters.

        “Thanks,” I reply, also not meaning it.

        He glances from the stereo to the wall and back again. I keep my eyes fixed on him, waiting silently.

        “I gotta do my homework,” he says. His voice is icy. “Could you turn the music off?”

        “Yeah, sure,” I say, and switch it off. “Good luck with that homework.” I stride out of the bedroom, to investigate what’s become of Mr. Velasquez.

        He’s sitting at the kitchen table, just packing up his briefcase. “Michael, do you want a snack?” Veronica asks me.

        I’m really not hungry. This feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach is kind of taking the place of any need for food right now. “That’s okay.”

        “Are you sure? I’m getting some crackers out for Annie, anyway.”

        I turn back around to the living room. I had completely missed the fact that the Rosie O’Donnell show is on and Annie, a stumpy preteen with long dark hair, has taken up residence on the sofa.

        “Hi, Annie,” I say carefully.

        “Yeah, hi Michael,” she replies, about as interested as Nate.

        There’s nothing else to do, and my own room is going to be boring as hell, so I sink into the sofa beside her.

        “You like Rosie?” she asks.

        “No.”

        “That’s okay,” Annie says, rolling her eyes. “You’re not getting the remote, though. I get the TV.” Her voice is kind of hoarse, like she’s pushing it from the back of her throat. But the message is clear.

        “Don’t you have homework to do?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

        “Did it on the bus. I just had two worksheets.”

        Toby approaches from the kitchen. “No homework, Annie?” he asks, having overheard the tail end of that.

        “It was easy,” Annie protests.

        “They’re not challenging you enough?”

        “Come on, Toby,” Annie says. “Just because I can do my homework fast.”

        I have to admit this is kind of interesting to see. I don’t know much about Down Syndrome, but Annie seems a lot sharper than I would have expected. I kind of expected some cheery dumb girl. Annie seems, well, neither. Not dumb, and definitely not cheery.

        “Maybe you and I should go over your worksheets together.”

        “Check them if you want,” Annie says. “They’re in my bookbag. I’m watching Rosie with Michael.”

        “Yeah, um, we’re watching Rosie,” I chime in, suddenly feeling motivated.

        Toby sighs. “Okay, you two bond. Annie, I’ll let you know if there’s a problem with your worksheets.”

        “There isn’t,” Annie whispers to me as Toby heads to her bedroom. I actually have to grin. I almost like this kid. Almost.

        We watch the rest of Rosie and then some People’s Court until Nate’s finished his homework, Mr. Velasquez is gone, and Annie’s stomach starts to rumble.

        “If we’re going out for food, I want hamburgers,” Annie says. "Let's go to the Crashdown." And my heart lurches.

I’m not sure whether to jump for joy or hide in dread. But I sure as hell am not going to say anything. Like reveal the fact that Maria works there. And is working the dinner shift. Oh, no. I keep my mouth shut as my mind races.

        Toby emerges from the bedroom and makes a face. “I can’t stand that place,” he says. “So tacky.”

        Annie, however, is bouncing in her seat. “Please?” she asks. “We never go to the Crashdown.” They never do. I would have seen them there. I’m there all the time. I wonder if they know that.

        Nate, too, emerges from his room. “Yeah, please? That place is cool.”

        Cool, he says. And I’m supposed to be the one from outer space?

        “Nobody wants pizza?” Toby asks.

        “Crashdown! Crashdown!” Annie chants.

        “Well,” Toby says, “given that this dinner is in honor of Michael, maybe we should let him decide.”

        Four pairs of eyes fall on me. I briefly ponder refusing, given that I’m not so sure I want Maria waiting on this family on my very first night here, but then that thought causes an image of her face to pop back into my mind, and the question is answered.

        “Crashdown sounds good to me,” I say casually.

        “Yeah!” Annie shrieks, jumping up in the air. Which is how, less than half an hour later, I find myself slouching into the Crashdown in the company of the Butler family.

        The dinner rush is on, so the place is pretty packed. I glance around for Maria’s antennae, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Probably she’s in the back. Liz Parker hustles up to greet us. “Table for five?” she asks, counting bodies without even processing. I see the exact moment when she recognizes me and does a double-take. But she’s not sure whether to say anything or not. I shake my head subtly, and she leads us to a table near
the back. As I slip by her into the table, she shoots me a little smile. I stare back at her.

        She passes menus around the table, laying mine down with a slow, pointed movement. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order,” she says, and busts into the back room as quickly as she’s capable of moving. It’s a few moments later that Maria comes charging out, antennae bobbing. She surveys the crowded scene, plainly ignores a woman gesturing for her attention, and storms to our table.

        “Michael, hi,” she says as she crashes to a halt. Not subtle at all.

        “Hey,” I say, suddenly not sure if this was a good idea. I glance at the Butlers. “Um, this is my friend Maria? This is, uh, Toby and Veronica Butler. Annie and Nate."

        I glance over at Nate. And sure enough, he’s checking her out. Almost drooling. Bastard. We’re gonna have a talk later.

Then again, who wouldn’t check Maria out?

        “Maria DeLuca?” Toby asks pointedly.

        “Yes,” Maria says. I see her quickly connect that he’s the one I was talking to earlier when we were on the phone. “So, uh, Michael, if you’re here, how about if I just give you those Cliff Notes now?”

        “That’d be great,” I say.

        “Well, they’re in the back. Oh, want to come with me for a sec?” She points casually towards the break room.

        Do I? I try to act casual. “Yeah, sure.” I glance at the Butlers. “I’ll be right back.”

        “What if the waitress comes back?” Veronica asks. “Do you know what you want?”

        “Yeah, well actually, I’m your waitress now,” Maria says with a nod. “I’ll get your order when we get back.”

        Relieved, I follow her into the break room. I take a quick look around to make sure it’s empty before I grab her arm and roughly pull her toward me, planting my lips on hers. Yeah. That feels good. I needed that. After a brief hesitation, she kisses back, melting into me. Her hands take hold of my arms, pulling me close against her. She can’t resist. Good, so we’re officially back to the kissing thing. Or maybe that’s bad. I don’t know anymore. I officially give up. For now.

        She tilts her head up to look at me as we break the kiss. “Mmm, that was nice. How are they?”

        “Well, besides the fact that Nate’s a jerk-off, the rules are from hell and Toby’s a secret government agent, not too bad.”

        “You’re kidding.”

        “I am not. He won’t say what he does, other than it’s ‘top-secret’.”

        “Like..?” Maria points up.

        “Who knows? I don’t like it.”

        “I don’t, either,” Maria says. “Have you told Max?”

        “I haven’t seen Max yet.”

        “He’s right out there,” Maria points out, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. I hadn’t even noticed. Amazing how well Max blends in. I somehow can’t seem to get the hang of that trick myself. He must have ditched Isabel for the mall after all. “Stalking Liz as usual. Any idea how you got matched with them as a foster home?”

        I shrug. “Well, Valenti was involved, but I don’t know how much. I could ask
my caseworker.”

        “But…?” Maria hears the doubt in my mind.

        “But… I don’t want to stir anything up, you know?”

        “Well, if he’s what you think he is, and Valenti had a say in it, something might already be stirred up.”

        “Yes, I realize that.” Who is this girl to tell me things about my personal life? I’m the one who’s been dealing with it for ten years…

        “Sor-ry,” she says, clearly not. I was a little too harsh.

        “It’s just, the timing couldn’t be worse,” I say. “I mean, Nasedo’s out there, and Valenti’s gonna figure us out any day now. God, I should have just…”

“No,” she says firmly. “No, you shouldn’t have,” Maria says, finally pulling away. Then she has a second thought and leans back in, kissing again. I don’t mind her sudden burst of assertiveness, or the pure pleasure I’m getting from exploring her mouth, her lips, her tongue… I hear a low moan coming from somewhere in the room, and I realize it’s coming from Maria. I’m doing this to her. The thought causes my arms to snake around and pull her closer to me. “Go talk to Max, okay?”

        “I don’t know if the jailer will let me.”

        “Oh, jeez,” Maria says, pulling back a little studying my face. Hands still roaming. This is good. “It’s that bad?”

        “I don’t want Max meeting these guys just yet. Would you, you know, drop him a line or something for me?”

        Maria heaves a sigh. “The things I do for you people.”

        I shoot her half a grin, it’s about all I can manage right now, plop one last affectionate kiss on her, and turn around to start back for the Butlers’ table. She’s already out the door, right ahead of me, when I remember.

        “Shit! Maria, the Cliff Notes!” I yell at her, forgetting that half the restaurant, including the Butlers, can hear me. Maria, amused, doubles back, roots through her locker while I wait at the door, and finally produces them for me. Only now I’m ready to beat my head into the wall. Dammit.

        I slide back into the booth, yellow-and-black striped packet in hand. Veronica is looking at me disapprovingly.

        Nate nudges me. “Forgot the Cliff Notes?” he asks. I shoot him what I hope is a frightening stare, and it seems to work – he glances away, embarrassed.

        Veronica opens her mouth, as if she’s going to say something about my language, or maybe my ulterior motive, but then she makes eye contact with me and closes her mouth. I glance away, scouring the restaurant for Max, and there he is – over at the front of the restaurant. I walked right by him. He’s looking back at me, hard, as Maria whispers something in his ear.

        “So, Michael,” Toby says. “Come here often?”

        Would they call me on it if I say no? “Yeah, I’m around here a lot.”

        “I heard there was a shooting incident here back in September,” he says. “You hear anything about that?”

        Yeah, I do. I saw the whole thing happen, and watched my best friend stupidly go up to the victim and heal her in front of a huge crowd of people, sparking a frenzy of controversy and risking our lives. “Naw,” I say. “I wasn’t here. Nobody was hurt, though.” Just as I say this, Liz breezes by our table, totally alive, with two baskets of fries, and I try my hardest not to shoot her any looks at all. No giveaways. I’m too worried that Toby is fishing here.

        “It’s just that Roswell is so peaceful,” Veronica says. “For there to be gunfire, and downtown in a crowded restaurant… it just makes me nervous.”

        I’m willing to bet that a lot of things make Veronica Butler nervous. Just a thought.

        Maria finally approaches our table, order book in hand and pen poised. “You folks know what you want?”

        As they all pipe forward with their orders, I turn around again and catch Max’s eye this time. He cocks an eyebrow at me, pointing to the Butlers. I roll my eyes, and he smiles a little bit.

        “Hello? Sp- Guerin?” Maria asks. I turn around again. “What are you having?” I can’t believe she almost called me Spaceboy in front of Toby. We’re gonna have to have a long talk. Maybe with some tonguing involved. I can’t believe I’m still thinking like this. “Never mind, I’ll just get you a Will Smith burger.”

        “Yeah, that sounds good,” I say.

        Maria nods, bites her lip to keep from saying anything else inappropriate, or at least I hope, and turns to the kitchen to go put our order in.

        “Hey, Michael, do you believe in aliens?” Annie asks hopefully.

        I start to say no, but then catch her excited glance. “Maybe,” I say. “What do you think?”

        “I think they’re out there,” she says in a low tone. Now I’m the one biting my lip.

        “There’s no scientific evidence,” Nate says, condescending. Just his tone of voice
pisses me off.

        “Oh yeah, sherlock?” I say, turning to him. “So what do you think happened in 1947?”

        “Weather balloon,” he says matter-of-factly. Yeah, he would.

        “Yeah? And Toby, what do you think?” I ask him.

        He stares at me, and with one look my fears are heightened. “There’s no such thing as aliens,” he says.

        “Kind of an unpopular thing to say in this joint,” I say.

        “This place is such a tourist trap,” Veronica notes disapprovingly, looking around. “Your poor girlfriend, Michael, having to wear those ridiculous costumes.”

        “They’re not my… she’s not my girlfriend,” I say.

        “Only ‘sort of’, right, Michael?” Toby prods.

        This is stupid. “Never mind.”

        “Does she believe in aliens?” Annie pops up, pointing to Maria who’s rushing back through with two trays of food.

        She sure does now. “I guess.”

        “So, Nate,” Veronica says, raising her voice. I guess she senses the tension. Forget the fact that she caused most of it. “How was school today?”

        As Nate launches into a reluctant monologue about Algebra II, I glance back at Max again. He’s working on a milkshake and has homework spread out over his booth. He catches me looking again and shakes his head at me sadly. I scratch my nose deliberately with my middle finger, which cracks him up. Yeah, he gets it. Max isn’t as innocent as I sometimes try to convince myself he is. I have to grin back.

        I should be sitting over there with him, not here with these freaks. Well, three freaks and Annie, who seems like the only good apple in the bunch. I should be sitting with Max, whispering in low tones about alien conspiracies, bitching about Isabel, and flirting with the waitresses. Downing Tabasco sauce and cherry coke. Instead, Max is alone for the dinner rush, while I’m somewhere nearing the third circle of Hell.

        Maria arrives shortly with our food, giving me a sly wink as she sets the burger and coke in front of me. I reach for the burger, and it’s halfway to my mouth before Nate slaps it down.

        “We have to say grace,” he hisses.

        Say grace? I’m in a family that says grace?

        God help me.

        I realize a moment later, however, that perhaps there is a God. As I finally do bite into the burger, following grace, I’m struck by an overwhelmingly delicious taste. It’s spicy and strong. Horseradish. And Tabasco. And a hint of sweet onion. I immediately reach for the coke, only to discover that it, too has been spiked with Tabasco.

        I glance over at Maria, who’s chatting with Liz at the waitress station. As though she can sense me looking, she turns around and winks yet again. I flash her a grateful smile. I’ll have to make up for that later. I’ll think of a way.

        I’m not alone in this. I’m alone, but my friends are here.

        As far as first dinners with new foster families go, this one seems to be just dandy.

Chapter Five

        I can’t take another minute of this.

        I hop out of the booth abruptly, drawing stares from all the Butlers. “I gotta pee,” I offer as an explanation, before diverting to the mens’ room. I walk inside, letting the door swing behind me, and take a deep breath.

        As the urinal flushes behind me, I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair looks like crap. I guess I’ve been running my fingers through it a lot today. Nervous habit. And today has definitely been a day for nerves. I dab a little water on my fingers from the sink to try and fix it as much as I can.

        The door swings open again, and Max strides in behind me.

        “We have to stop meeting like this,” he says seriously.

        I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not funny.”

        “What’s with all the secrecy, anyway?”

        I peek under the stall. Nobody’s in it. “Did you see my new foster parents?”

        “Yeah, I saw.”

        “You saw the guy?”

        “Yes.”

        I take a deep breath. “He does top-secret work for the government. His wife says he pushes papers, but he’s asking about stuff. He even asked me if I knew anything about the shooting.”

        “Wow,” Max says immediately. Any mention of the shooting is cause for concern, it’s still the most public display any of us have given of our powers. Thanks a bunch, Maxwell.

        “And,” I say, pressing on, “I have a curfew now. A curfew. They want to know where I am all the time. It’s like Maria times fifty, and working for the government.” My voice is rising, and I’m starting to pace the bathroom.

        “Hey there,” Max says gently. “Calm down. We can cover for you, we do with our own parents all the time.”

        I stop and whirl around on him. “Maxwell, your parents actually trust you.”

        “So earn their trust,” he says. Like it’s that easy.

        “I don’t have time for that. I need to be out there now,” I say. “We’re so close to Nasedo. I can’t be sitting in some dumb house doing geometry homework all the time trying to gain their trust.”

        “What did he ask about the shooting?” Max asks quietly.

        “Just, you know, if I saw it. Which I said I didn’t.” I start pacing again.

        “Nothing about Liz?”

        “Not a peep. But the guy is creeping me out, Maxwell. I can’t handle this. It’s like I’m… I’m in prison or something. Call a meeting for lunch tomorrow. We all need to talk.”

        Max squints at me. “Why can’t you just call it?”

“Because…” Because it just seems right for Max to call the meetings. And besides, Alex and Liz don’t seem to get as annoyed with him as they do with me. “I have a lot going on right now. And on that note, I have a two-parent family out there probably wondering if I’ve fallen in. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

        The rest of dinner passes fairly uneventfully. Toby tips pretty well, a fact I take note of. After all, it’s Maria’s pocketbook we’re talking about. On the drive back Annie and Toby get into a shouting match about the route home. Annie wants to drive by her school so she can show it to me, and Toby wants to go directly home. Nate and I end up huddled in the back, almost out of fear. We don’t say a word, we don’t look at each other, but we’re both thinking the same thing. Annie’s no pushover.

        Later that evening, I attempt to seal the healing stones into the bedframe while Nate’s in the shower. I’m interrupted by a knock at the door, and hastily balance them back onto the ledge. I’m getting better at changing molecular structures, but I don’t quite have Max’s knack for it yet. “Come in?”

        It’s Veronica. “How are you feeling, Michael?”

        “Okay.” I guess. Pissed off, confused, angry, lonely, take your pick.

        “It must be hard, moving like this, not even able to tell your friends where you’re going.”

        “Yeah, sure.”

        “Maybe some of your friends could come over for dinner sometime this week.”

        “Oh, I don’t think so,” I say. “They’re all… busy.” I collapse on the bed and lean back, staring up at the ceiling.

        “Maybe they don’t have to come over right away,” she said. “Still, we’d like to know who you’re spending time with. We want to know more about them. This Maria girl, who are her parents?”

        “She just has a mom,” I sigh. “Her mom’s Amy DeLuca. She runs that store, you know…”

        “I know Amy,” Veronica says, and her voice doesn’t sound approving. “My little brother went to high school with her.” She pauses and makes the connection. “Oh, so Maria must be that baby.”

        Yeah, and doesn’t that make you feel old? Which you are. Old and decrepit. I’m pissed off to hear her talking about Maria like that.

        “Michael,” Veronica says, with a different tone of voice. Almost… apologetic. What is she reading in my expression? “We’re trying to help you. Mr. Velasquez. Toby. They’re not the enemy here. I know you’ve had a hard time, I know this is a change for you. We just want what’s best for you.”

        “Are we done with this conversation yet?” I ask.

        I hear her sigh. “You have two weeks to get Maria here for dinner.”

        “Is that a threat?”

        There’s a long pause. I’m afraid to look and see how Veronica is reacting to this. Me, I’m cool, I’m staring at the ceiling. Young and carefree. Right.

        “Depends on how you feel about Chaves County Home for Children.”

        Well, given that I could break out of it pretty darn easily and be gone in a flash, I don’t feel too bad. But leaving would mean no more Maria. I mean Max. No more Max. And Isabel. Shit. I’m already starting to see why I couldn’t just leave here when I had the chance.

        I hear Veronica leave, but I’m still staring at the ceiling. I’m totally alone in this house, imprisoned. At least at Hank’s trailer I could do whatever the hell I wanted. Sure, he made me do chores, and we yelled a lot, but he never ever demanded I bring my friends over. He never wanted to know who their parents were, never made threats about my GPA. And oddly enough, these are the things that are now scaring me.

        The door creaks open and Nate enters. I look up this time. He’s in pajamas.

        “Hey,” he greets me.

        I raise an eyebrow at him. “Hey?”

        “So, that chick at the diner,” he says conspiratorially as he towels off his hair. “Are you boning her, or what?”

        “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

        “Wouldn’t I like to do her!” he crows, throwing himself onto the bed.

        I sit up. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I did notice that.” I lean closer to his bed, darkening my face, trying to look threatening. “And it stops. Now.”

        “Why, what are you gonna do about it?” he taunts.

        “You want an answer to that?”

        In response, he grins at me. But I see his hand trembling just a little. He’s scared. He’s scared of me. He’s heard my reputation. And now he’s thinking about it.

        “You don’t even look at Maria.”

        “Yeah, man, whatever,” Nate says, but now he’s looking away. He reaches for his Sports Illustrated, perched on the dresser between us, and starts flipping through it.

        “Don’t you have a girlfriend or something?”

        “Me?” Nate shrugs. “Working on it, man. Working on it.”

        “Yeah, well, work on somebody else’s friends, why don’t you?”

        “You’re a real barrel of fun, aren’t you, Guerin?”

        “Dude, give it a rest.”

        I flip myself back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. I can already tell it’s going to be a long night. In fact, no matter how long I stay here, it’s going to be too long.

Chapter Six

        I’m up for good at 5:30 the next morning. I hop into the shower before Annie or Nate can grab it – Nate showered the night before, but you never know – and have just enough time to clean up, get dressed, do my hair, brush my teeth and grab my school books before Fur Elise sounds. Veronica’s making breakfast – omelets – but I don’t feel like I’m missing out or anything.

        I storm out the door, ignoring Veronica calling behind me. “Michael! Are you
leaving for school now?”

        I’m relieved to find Maria waiting impatiently on the stairs. She moves in as if for a good-morning kiss, but I pull away. Not here. I feel like the walls have eyes or something.

        “Let’s go study,” I greet her instead. She gives me a weird look, but we hop into the Jetta and are on our way into town.

        I find myself immediately relaxing, even in the cramped quarters of the Jetta as it rumbles out of the subdivision. With my knees jutting into the dashboard, and my head bumping the ceiling. It’s the first time since Mr. Velasquez met me at the trailer the day before that I’ve been truly free. Even in the break room last night, I knew the Butlers were out there, waiting for me. And I’m afraid this feeling is going to be pretty constant for awhile.

        “So spill,” Maria says. “You still think the guy’s a secret agent?”

        “Or something,” I say. “He’s fishing for information about everything. About the shooting, about if I believe in aliens or not.” Okay, that was Annie who asked that. But Toby was real interested. “And these rules are so messed up. How am I going to have time to find Nasedo when I have to report in every afternoon and do my homework for like three hours? Do I even have three hours of homework?”

        “Slow down, spaceboy,” Maria says immediately. “What’s really bothering you here? That he works for the government? Or that suddenly you have, like, normal parents?”

        “They’re not my parents,” I shoot back. “You don’t understand. They’re total strangers getting paid by social services to keep me fed and clothed.”

        “I do understand,” Maria argues. “I know how the system works, Michael. And I’m on your side, remember?”

        “Yeah, whatever,” I say.

        “No, not ‘whatever’. You can’t just brush me aside like that anymore. You brought me into this.”

        “I’m already getting nagged enough by these people. I don’t need you nagging, too.”

        “Well, I think I have first dibs on nagging. After all, I am your ‘sort of’ girlfriend.”

        Ouch. I shift in my seat. “Hey… Listen, I don’t want Toby knowing too much about any of you. I don’t trust him.”

        “Trust him or not, Michael, you made a choice. You could have filed for emancipation. Isabel told me all about it.”

        “You guys were talking about me?” Suddenly everybody’s got ulterior motives.

        Maria rolls her eyes and speeds up the car. “You’re getting paranoid.”

        “Should I be?”

        “About Toby? God, I don’t know. About us, well, if you’re paranoid about what Isabel and I think, maybe you should have just skipped town. Who are you going to trust if you don’t trust us?”

        “Maria…” I say in a low tone.

        “So Toby. You have to at least respect the fact that the state of New Mexico considers him your guardian at the moment. You don’t have to like the guy, you don’t have to trust him, you don’t have to tell him the full story of your freakazoid life history. But you at least have to follow his rules.”

        I slam my hand against her dashboard. “But what if he’s the enemy?”

        “Michael Guerin! Do not abuse the Jetta.”

        “Uh, sorry.”

        She shoots me a wry glance. I guess she’s not really used to me apologizing yet. I don’t know how that one slipped out. “If he’s the enemy, we’ll all figure it out. I hear we’re meeting by the picnic tables at lunchtime?”

        “We are?”

        “Max said you called a meeting.”

        “No, Max called a meeting. I just asked him to.”

        “Right,” Maria says, with a half-smile.

        “He never even told me where it was.”

        “Well, he probably figures we’ll all see each other in history class third period. You are coming to class today, right?”

        “Maybe,” I say. Of course I’m going to class. Now. I have to get my grades up significantly. But if Maria and Isabel are talking now, I think I might just keep that information to myself a little longer. I’m not ready to be their joint project just yet.

        With that, the subject of my new living arrangement is dropped, at least for the moment. We arrive at the Crashdown without incident, and over pancakes and scrambled eggs, Maria boldly attempts to explain the twisted love patterns of Shakespeare to me. After reading the Cliffs Notes the night before, I find that I kind of like this Puck guy. At first I somehow connected him to the guy who used to be on the Real World, but this Puck isn’t quite so gross-out, and is actually sort of a funny dude.

        We’re the only members of our usual gang around the restaurant this morning. Liz isn’t around – Maria mentions that she’s upstairs and we’re giving her a ride to school, but she must be eating in her own apartment for once. Max is also nowhere to be seen, presumably because Liz isn’t working. I guess Isabel really only comes here when he does for breakfast, and Alex Whitman is also noticeably absent. The only person there of any significance at all is Kyle Valenti, in the corner with a few other jocks, but he could care less what Maria and I are doing.

        The rest of the morning flies by. Liz emerges from upstairs, and the three of us squeeze into the Jetta to ride to school. I actually attend all of my classes, which garners some surprised looks in history class. I don’t really get to talk to anybody, since I’m a minute late, but Max does at least bother to pass me a note confirming the lunchtime pow-wow.

MG,

12:15. Picnic tables. Works for you?

-ME

P. S. Are you sure you’re registered for this class?

        I twist in my seat to make a face at him, and he smirks back.

        History class. The whole thing seems so pointless to me. I mean, I know this isn’t my history. I don’t even know what my history is. But it sure isn’t to be found in this class. Although the war stuff is cool. But we don’t do nearly enough of that. I spend more time staring at the back of Maria’s head. I think she’s aware of it, she leans over a few times and takes the opportunity to turn around and catch me staring. I look away quickly. I don’t want to act like I’m too obsessed.

Although I am. Too obsessed.

Chapter Seven

        Lunchtime couldn’t come soon enough. A day full of being forced to listen to teachers talk about nothing, of actually sitting and not hanging out in the bathroom or stealing away to hang out by the sports fields. It’s torture. And it’s only halfway done when the bell finally rings after geometry class and I practically sprint to the cafeteria. The food sucks as usual, but at least there’s the pizza line. With two slices of pepperoni and an apple juice in hand, I make my way to the picnic tables.

        My eyes scan the crowd. The rejects, the jocks (with Kyle at their center), the potheads, the drama kids, the goths, the preppies. Every high school in America must be like this. It’s a depressing thought. And then, over in the corner, yet another clique: the aliens. And friends. Yeah, that one must only exist at West Roswell. I gladly plop my greasy pizza down between Isabel and Alex, who is definitely having some fixation on Isabel’s ponytail at the moment. His eyes are practically glued to it, his mouth is even hanging open a little. The kid is pathetic. She shoots me a quick grateful smile – Alex has been a little much for her lately, I think.

        “So, Michael, how’s the new place?” Isabel asks brightly, apparently eager for a change of topic.

        Not that it’s a change of topic for me. “Okay, I guess,” I say. “A lot of rules. I’ll talk about it more when Max and everybody gets here.”

        Alex is staring at me now. “That must be rough,” he says. “Just getting thrown into a new family like that.”

        “Yeah, tell me about it.”

        “Especially when you’re a, well, you know.”

        I stare at him as I twist open the lid to my apple juice. He gets the idea and starts rifling through his lunch bag.

        “How many homes does this make now?” Alex asks gently. He’s not trying to offend. I see that. He’s just curious.

        I start counting in my mind. “Seven,” I say. “There were a lot at first. Then I was with Hank for a long time.”

        Isabel just shakes her head.

        Maria and Liz approach together, elbows linked, and slide into the table across from us. “Is it secure? Is anybody looking?” Liz asks conspiratorially, before bursting into giggles. “I’m sorry, Michael, I’m sorry. Last night was just too much.” Behind them, I see Max emerge from the east wing of the building, coming in our direction.

        I have to admit she’s right. Maybe I’m going a little overboard with the secrecy. But maybe not.

        “Something’s working so far, Michael’s actually going to class,” Maria points out.

        I mumble something about making a good first impression as I bite into the pizza. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Max has finally arrived and we can begin.

        “So what’s the big deal?” he asks, and he’s even smiling a little. Or maybe that’s because he’s scooting in next to Liz. The two of them haven’t really talked since he got drunk, as far as I know. But from the way they’re looking at each other… right. I glance at Maria, on the other side of Alex from me. I notice that we’ve unconsciously, or maybe even consciously, segregated ourselves at the table. Me, Isabel, Max. Liz, Maria, Alex. The humans on one side, aliens on another. Even we clique up amongst ourselves. It’s pathetic. And it means I can’t really reach Maria’s leg under the table, without being sure it’s not Alex or Liz’s leg. I mean, ew.

        “My new foster dad works for the government,” I blurt out.

        There’s silence around the table for a moment as this registers. “Doing what?” Alex finally asks.

        “I don’t know. He said it was top-secret. His wife said he was kidding, that he pushes papers, but he didn’t say anything. He’s asking questions. About the shooting at the Crashdown. If I believe in aliens.” I let that one hang in the air for a moment. “And he’s imposing all these rules. I have to check in with them at all times.”

        “Welcome to the real world,” Isabel points out.

        I ignore that. “They wouldn’t let me go out last night.”

        “Michael, it was your first night there,” Isabel reminds me.

        “They want to know all of you, too,” I say. “They want to meet all my friends.”

        “Yeah, that’s what normal parents do,” Isabel continues.

        “Would you just… listen to me for a second?” I say, raising my voice at her a little. “Put it all together. It’s beyond normal. It’s overboard. I think he knows something isn’t right about me.”

        “I don’t know,” Isabel says doubtfully. We all automatically turn to Max.

        He’s careful to pause and think for a moment before he opens his mouth. “I trust Michael’s instincts,” he says. “We’ve had to be on our guard for years, he knows what’s safe and what’s not,” he explains to the human side of the table.

        “Yeah, but you didn’t trust us at first, either,” Liz points out, not unkindly.

        “But I didn’t think you worked for the government against us,” I remind her. “This is different. I think this guy is a real threat.”

        “If you think they’re suspicious,” Max says, “then I’m suspicious. But what are we supposed to do about it?”

        “Social services must have a file on him, right?” Maria asks, speaking up for the first time. “I mean, they have to do a background check.”

        Now everyone turns to look at Maria.

        “I’m just saying…”

        “No, you’re right,” I interrupt, staring at her. There’s a reason I’m infatuated with this girl. She’s on the right track. “I bet his file would have to have more information than I can get out of him.”

        “No more breaking and entering,” Isabel says firmly. “Michael, the last thing you need right now is to be caught stealing from the social services building.”

        “Who says I’d be caught?”

        “Who says Michael has to do it?” Alex asks, and now we’re staring at him. I can’t believe the words are coming from his mouth.

        “Are you volunteering?” I ask, astonished.

        Alex shrugs. “All my self-preservation instincts are being told to shut up by my adventurous instincts,” he says.

        “Say what?”

        “I’m saying I feel daring. I can talk my way out of it if I get caught.” It’s true, he’s done it before.

        “Wait, wait, stop,” Liz says. “Before we start talking illegal activities, do we have any other options?”

        Everybody’s looking at me now. “I could snoop around the house, but I doubt I’d ever be left there alone.” They probably think I’d steal from them or something.

        “What if we snooped when you were gone?” Alex asks. He looks a little crestfallen, though. I think he actually wanted to do the B and E.

        “Do you have a key?” Maria asks.

        “He doesn’t need one,” Isabel points out. The humans contemplate this for a moment.

        “How often do they do the ‘family dinner’ thing?” Maria asks, inserting quote marks with her fingers.

        “I don’t know,” I say. “Veronica cooks a lot.” I hesitate. “But we do have to go to church on Sunday.”

        “Okay, plan one,” Max says. “This Sunday, when they’re at church, I’ll go poke around in the house. Michael, you’ll have to give me suggestions on where to look.”

        “Can do,” I say, feeling a twinge of regret that it has to come to this. Me sitting in some church while the rest of them do my detective work. But I can’t think of any other way. “I think there’s an alarm system. But I’ll make Toby show me how to disengage it.”

        “Anybody coming with?” Max asks.

        “I’ll go,” Maria says. I shoot her a small glare. I’m not sure I want Maria snooping around in my house – who knows what she’ll really be looking for?

        “I’ll go, too,” Alex says. I think he just wants to break into something.

        Isabel and Liz are looking more skeptical. “I was gonna go to church with Mom and Dad,” Isabel says. Liz stays silent.

        “Three is plenty. So,” Max says. “Today is Wednesday. Sunday, we’ll check out Michael’s house. Tomorrow we’ll meet for lunch to plan – Michael, you’ll have to tell us about the alarm system and what we’re looking for. And tell us anything else you learn about this guy. And Monday we’ll meet and talk about what we found, and if there’s any need to go to social services.” Alex brightens a little at the last remark.

        “Aye-aye, captain,” Isabel says, snapping a salute. And now everyone’s staring at her, just out of shock.

        “If Michael’s right,” Max says, choosing to ignore Isabel, “this guy could be a risk. We need to know everything we can, keep the upper hand.”

        I’m smiling to myself. We’re going on the offensive, instead of the defensive. Taking action. What we should have been doing all along.

        “But Michael, you have to be careful,” Max says. Max really knows how to break a guy’s mood. “If you get too paranoid, you’re only going to call attention to yourself. Just act as normal as you can.”

        “If that’s possible,” Maria adds helpfully. Now I do aim to see if I can reach her leg under the table with a good kick. “Ow,” she says, and I know I succeeded. I keep my leg inches away, marking which one is hers. Just in case.

        “So who are the other kids?” Max asked. “You have a foster brother and sister now?”

        “Yeah, there’s two other kids.” Brother and sister, I don’t know. I launch into a brief description of Nate and Annie. The conversation turns to relatives, and then annoying teenagers, and then general gossip about other kids at school. Nothing to do with aliens, nothing to do with breaking and entering.

        I can’t help but let my mind drift to how weird it is for the six of us to be together. In public. The longer we go on keeping this secret, the closer we’re drawing as a group. In a way, it’s a comfort. To have such a tight-knit group of people. But it worries me, too. Liz couldn’t keep a secret – she told Maria, she told Alex, both without consulting us. And god knows Maria and Alex have both almost cracked to the sheriff. There are plenty of people out there who would kill or imprison us if they knew what we were, and I don’t like the idea that there are three people running around with that knowledge who don’t stand to lose anything.

        But don’t they? I look at how Alex is looking at Isabel, how Liz is looking at Max. And I catch Maria’s eye across the table.

        We can’t get attached like this. It makes me nervous. But it still feels good, somehow.

        I wonder if all those other human kids – the Goths, the preppies, the potheads – if they ever feel this way, too.

        I snake my leg back up to hers and jab her foot with mine. She jumps a little, but then relaxes and nudges me back. We make eye contact again. Okay, I have the right foot. Hers is caressing mine, dancing around it. Boy does this feel good.

        I feel absolutely helpless when it comes to Maria. But at least it’s better than the helplessness I feel when it comes to the Butler family. Cause it feels kinda good.

Chapter Eight

        Maria drives me back from school that afternoon, but has to rush off to work the afternoon shift. So that leaves me padding up the sidewalk to the Butler house alone. For once, I’m actually savoring my time at school. At least there I’m Butler-free and among friends. Now, I can barely will my feet to walk up the sidewalk.

        I start to open the door, but then get an idea. I ring the doorbell instead. Fur Elise.

        Veronica answers and peers at me as she opens the door. “Michael, you live here now,” she reminds me.

        “I know,” I say. “I just didn’t want to trip the alarms or anything.”

        “The alarm wasn’t on.”

        “Oh. Maybe you should show me how to disengage it. Just in case.”

        Veronica looks at me suspiciously, but takes me to the alarm control panel and demonstrates the code, which I immediately sear into my brain. Annie’s already watching Rosie on the couch, so I assume Nate’s here, too.

        “How was school?” Veronica asks. “You arrived on time with Mary?”

        “Maria,” I say, and then nearly kick myself for correcting her. “She drove me here, too.”

        “Is that going to be a regular thing?”

        “Maybe,” I say. “I’ll let you know if I need a ride, okay?”

        “Michael, I am not a taxi service,” she says. “We live on routine here. You need to choose a consistent method of transportation and use it.”

        Maybe I should just get my own car. That would solve a heck of a lot of problems.

        In fact, that’s not a bad idea.

        “I need a car,” I blurt out. “Being out of my school district like this. All my classmates are so far away. I need to be able to go to them to study and stuff. Maybe I can get a job, save up my own money towards a car.” I hold my breath. Annie twists around on the couch to see the reaction.

        She stares at me. “Where would you work?”

        “I can apply around,” I say. “It’d teach me responsibility, and stuff. You know.”

        Veronica nods slowly. “If your grades come up in the next month, we can talk about it.”

        “But-“

        “You can’t jump into an after-school job with your grades the way they are, Michael.”

        “But-“

        “I said we can talk about it. In a month.”

        I sigh. “Then I guess for now I’ll be getting rides with my friends.”

        She tightens her mouth, and I can tell she disapproves. “I hope you’re studying in the car.”

        Yeah, right. Bitch. “Oh, sure,” I say, before heading back to the bedroom.

        It’s empty. I poke my head back out. “Where’s Nate?”

        “Baseball practice,” Annie says, without taking her eyes off the TV.

        Sweet. The room to myself. Not that I can share it with anyone. Too bad Maria can’t come study right now. Or at least pretend to study while we do other things.

        I immediately go to the desk drawer and start rifling through absent-mindedly. Nothing interesting at all. Paper clips, a staple remover, pencils, pens, post-its, batteries. I open the lower drawer. Of course there’s nothing here, it’s Nate’s room.

        I do find a recent algebra test of Nate’s. His last name is Westing. He’s no Butler. So he’s definitely a foster kid, too. I wonder what Annie’s last name is. Nathan Westing. Michael Guerin. Toby and Veronica Butler. Some family.

        And he had a solid B on his algebra test. No genius, but no dolt, either. Unless he’s hiding it.

        I wonder why he’s in the system. He looks so normal. Like the kind of kid anybody would want to adopt. Either Nate has serious emotional issues, which is entirely possible, or my guess is he’s in the process of being adopted. He is kind of old to be cute and cuddly, though.

        But that tells me something else. The Butlers didn’t just jump into foster parenting just go get the alien that was coming up for grabs. They’re really in this.

        Then again, if you want to get ahold of the alien kid, and you just happen to have an employee who’s a foster parent, you might as well set things up to mix and match the alien with the government foster parent. I reserve the right to my suspicions.

        I emerge from the bedroom and decide to poke around the house a little. Rosie’s on a commercial break, so Annie’s nowhere to be seen. I move back into the kitchen, which I’ve barely even seen yet. Annie’s got the door to the pantry open and is balancing on a stepstool trying to reach something on the top shelf.

        “Hey, want me to help you with that?” I ask, and she whirls around, tottering on the stool. “Whoa!” I shout, moving in to help her brace her fall. She’s no lightweight, and I grunt as she falls against me.

        And then bursts into giggles. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m not supposed to have cookies after school, anyway.”

        I look around, and Veronica is nowhere to be seen. I think she’s in the garage or outside, because the door is cracked. I glance at the top shelf, where the Oreos are really sitting awfully provocatively on the edge. And then look back at Annie. I put a finger to my lips silencing her and climb up on the stool myself, swipe the Oreo package, and remove six, which I pass down to Annie before replacing the package.

        She breaks into a smile. “Yeah, you’re definitely cool,” she says, before stealing off to her room.

        With that, I’m solidly off the fence. I like that kid.

        With Annie and Veronica out of sight, I push open the half-opened door of Veronica and Toby’s bedroom, and step in. It’s about three times the size of the room Nate and I are sharing. Two big dressers, a walk-in closet, and a king-size poster bed. Nice room. There’s a fireplace that looks through to the private bathroom. Sexy. Big marble bathtub with spa jets. Landscape paintings on all the walls. Framed pictures of Nate and Annie, all fairly recent. There’s a bunch of older baby pictures, a little boy, growing up, but they look a little too old to be Nate. I don’t know.

        There’s a desk in the corner, and a file cabinet next to it. Score. Way too obvious. I wonder if I should try it, but then I glance back through the door to the semi-opened garage door. Not with Veronica right outside. At least I know what to steer Max, Alex and Maria towards.

        With a final glance around the immaculate room, I move back into the hall and open the garage door. It’s a pretty typical garage – made for two cars, just one at the moment. Some woodworking equipment, and a lot of boxes of junk. Maybe I should have them poke around here.

        The garage door is open to the driveway, and I walk through. There’s Veronica, just coming up the driveway from checking the mail. Aha.

        “Michael,” she says, surprised.

        “I was just pokin’ around,” I say lamely.

        “Well,” she says. “Given that you did have a full day of school today, I’m assuming you have homework?”

        “Yeah, some.”

        “Do you need any help?”

        “No.”

        Veronica nods. “Why don’t you do it in your room, and I’ll come and check on you in a little bit?”

        Why don’t you go fuck yourself, lady? I try to hide my scowl as I turn around and head back into the house. The house is not that big, and it’s absolutely a prison. I don’t even have a place to live anymore, just a place to be imprisoned.

        I trudge back to the bedroom, past Annie who’s now returned to the couch to finish watching Rosie. I lean around to make sure there are no telltale cookie crumbs. Nope. She’s good. I wink at her, she grins broadly and winks back.

        “Wanna watch Rosie with me?” she asks.

        “Gotta do my homework,” I say, jabbing my thumb in the direction of the bedroom.

        “Annie, don’t you have homework, too, or did you do it on the bus again?” Veronica asks from behind me. I spin around, startled. She’s quiet. That’s not good.

        “I’ll do it after Rosie,” she complains.

        Veronica opens her mouth to speak, but then closes it. “As soon as Rosie’s off.”

        “I think I’m gonna watch Rosie, too,” I say, and slide onto the couch next to Annie.

        “Michael, I didn’t say you could watch Rosie,” Veronica says sternly. “I said Annie could.”

        I shoot Annie a look, and she immediately turns around to Veronica. “Come on, Veronica, please?” she begs for me.

        Veronica’s face tightens even more, but she looks sad all of a sudden. “Okay,” she says. “When Rosie’s done, you both do your homework.” She turns around and practically flees into the back bedroom.

        I turn to stare at Annie. “You call her Veronica?”

        Annie shrugs. “I’m not adopted yet.” It definitely bothers Veronica, though, Annie calling her by her name. That much I caught.

        “How long have you been here?”

        “Since I was five. But I’ve never had real parents.” What’s that, like, seven years? The Butlers have been foster parents for a long time. They are a genuine foster family. Hell, they were foster parents before I was even placed with Hank.

        “Really?” I ask. She gave that one up pretty abruptly.

        “They didn’t want me,” she says.

        Now I’m taken aback. “No shit. Why?”

        Annie rolls her eyes at me. “Why do you think?”

        Now, that’s damn heartbreaking. “Toby and Veronica want you, right?”

        Annie shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. She doesn’t sound convinced, though.

        “My parents didn’t want me either,” I say. It’s not exactly the truth as I see it, but as far as social services is concerned, that’s the story. I may as well play into it for Annie’s sake. And I almost think she needs to hear it, too. “They didn’t just hand me over in the hospital, though. They left me in the desert when I was six.”

        Annie’s eyes widen. “How long were you in the desert?”

        “A week or two, I guess.”

        “You didn’t get thirsty?”

        I don’t really remember much about how long I was in the desert, or what I did. After all, the truth is I’d just been born. I had no language, and I think that kind of impedes my ability to remember. I remember a lot from after I learned to speak English, but everything before is still pretty fuzzy. I mean, I remember coming out of the pod, but Max and I went back after he got his driver’s license, trying to find the pod chamber, and it was hopeless.

        “I got by.”

        “That must have been cool. Just to be out there on your own.” She sounds wistful. “I want to have my own apartment some day.”

        “Hey, are you really watching this show?”

        “I usually don’t,” Annie admits cheerfully. “I just like to have an excuse to put off my homework.”

        Now I’m the one grinning. Maybe living here won’t be so bad after all.

        The rest of the evening is pretty uneventful. Rosie finishes, Annie and I concede to do our homework, and after awhile Nate arrives home from baseball practice to start his homework. It’s a never-ending cycle of homework. I can’t play music while Nate’s studying, and Annie’s still working on hers, so I end up crawling into bed and reading part of Ulysses until dinner. Dinner isn’t too bad – spaghetti and meatballs, and brownies for dessert. I can handle that. I’m pretty sullen and non-conversational at dinner. Everybody keeps glaring at me, except for Annie. They might as well start getting used to the real Michael Guerin.

        The phone rings as Nate and I clear off the table silently and with hostility. Annie comes bouncing into the dining room. “It’s for Michael,” she chirps.

        I snatch the phone away from her. “Hello?”

        “Ready for your big escape yet?”

        “Depends. You driving the getaway car?”

        Toby sticks his head into the dining room. “Who’s that on the phone?”

        “It’s Isabel,” I say.

        “Isabel Evans?”

        “Yes,” I say slowly.

        “Is she the lawyer, Philip Evans’ girl?”

        “That’s her.”

        He takes this information with a raise of the eyebrows. In response, I turn and head directly for my room. I don’t like the look on his face.

        “Did you hear that?” I ask breathlessly once I have the door closed. “Did you hear that?”

        “Um, yeah,” Isabel says, bored. “He asked if Philip was my dad. And guess what, Michael? He is!”

        “If you’re not gonna take this seriously, I don’t need to have this conversation with you.”

        “I was just calling to see how you were.”

        “He knew your last name!” Fished it right out of thin air, at that.

        “Roswell’s a small town, Michael. As far as I know, I’m the only Isabel in it, and definitely the only one our age. You’re being paranoid.”

        “Goodbye, Isabel.”

        “No, wait,” she says with a sigh. “I just wanted to hear your voice. It’s weird to not see you at the Crashdown or at our place after school anymore.”

        “New rules,” I remind her.

        “I know,” she whines a little. “How much longer till you start breaking them?”

        “Are you saying you want me to?” I flop backwards onto the bed, which bounces and squeaks beneath me.

        “No, but we both know you’re gonna.”

        “Well, I have more self-control than that, thank you very much. I intend to behave myself until we know more.”

        “You got what we needed?” The information, of course.

        “Yeah, I got it.” I frown at the ceiling.

        “I don’t like this, Michael.”

        “Well, then help us fix the problem.” It’s not that hard a concept.

        She sighs. “I have to go to church on Sunday.”

        “Yeah, so do I.” Unfortunately.

        “Maybe you can come to church with me?”

        Now there’s a thought. “I could ask.” Say I like Isabel’s church better. Who are they to mess with my religious beliefs? Not that I really have any religious beliefs.

        “Of course, I’d hate to pull you away from any family bonding.”

        “Arg.” I pull my pillow over my face.

        “What was that?”

        “I said I think I can manage. Where’s Max?”

        “Eh, he’s in his room playing love songs.”

        “What? Why?” Or more importantly, who?

        “I can’t get it out of him. I think he and Liz are officially back together as of this afternoon, though. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

        “Right.” I make a mental note to do that. Here we go again. More of the alien-human soap opera. Not that I’m totally innocent on that point myself.

        “Listen, Michael, I have to study. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

        “Under the circumstances? I’m dandy.”

        Isabel barks out a short laugh.

        “What?”

        “Did you just say dandy?

        “Goodbye, Isabel.”

        “See you tomorrow, Michael.” She pauses. “Love you.” She’s careful in how she says it. I know why. But she knows, and I know, exactly what she means.

        “Yeah, you, too.”

        I have to search for the ‘off’ button on the unfamiliar phone, before I pull it tightly to my chest. In the silence against the hum of the air conditioning vent in the corner, I’m even more alone than before.

        There’s a knock on the door. If I told them to fuck off, would they listen? Or stick me on the first bus to Chaves Home? “Come in.”

        It’s Toby. He leans in, hanging off the doorframe. “Michael, I just wanted to let you know that Veronica will be picking you up at 3:30 tomorrow. You can wait for her in the library.”

        “Why?” I ask suspiciously. “Maria was gonna give me a ride.” Not necessarily, but she would if I asked. I know she would.

        “Well, Mr. Velasquez pointed out to me that you haven’t had a physical exam in a few years, really. We should have one done just to be safe, so I got you an appointment with our family doctor.”

        Oh, great mother of holy shit. “But I feel fine.”

        “It’s just a precaution. They should know what you’re like healthy, for when you get sick.”

        “I don’t get sick.” Not by normal means, anyway.

        “There’s a first time for everything.”

        “I’m scared of doctors,” I say automatically.

        Toby smiles a little, the first time I’ve seen him smile, I think. I feel a shiver down my spine. “It’ll be fine.”

        “Can’t we hold off a week or two?” I protest. Time to start pulling out the BS, Michael. “I’m still so anxious about the move, and leaving my old placement and, uh, everything. It’s not a good time.”

        Toby frowns. “It’s rather imperative, Michael. This is your health we’re talking about.”

        “And I’m healthy!”

        “We should be sure,” he says. “So you can meet Veronica in the traffic circle at 3:30 tomorrow.”

        “Right,” I sigh. I can’t think of any more excuses.

        A physical exam. And I’ve been so good at avoiding those. Most things I should be able to pass – we have normal blood pressure, normal heart rate, and of course I’m of slightly above average height and weight for my age, but no big deal. The scary part is if they want to do a blood test. Our cells and blood structure are decidedly unhuman. And that’s not something I want any doctor discussing with Veronica, or Toby in particular.

        When Max was in a car accident, we got a blood sample from Alex. That worked just fine. Maybe I should call in the troops to sneak around the doctor’s office. But in a private practice, it won’t be as easy to just tiptoe around like we did at the hospital.

        I hear raised voices in the living room. Veronica and Annie are going at it. I smile to myself.

        The door opens and Nate comes storming in, slamming the door behind him.

        “What’s going on out there?” I ask, not sure I want to know.

        “Veronica’s trying to make Annie take out the garbage.”

        “All that over garbage?”

        “Annie’s pretty stubborn.”

        “I noticed.”

        Nate throws himself down on the bed. “Don’t ever think that Downs kids are sweet and innocent. They’re stubborn and vicious. Don’t let yourself get on Annie’s bad side.”

        I admit, I’m a little taken aback. “I don’t think I am yet.”

        “Good for you.”

        “So what’s your story?” I ask him. I might as well try and get a little information out of the cellmate here.

        “Orphan,” he says. “My mom died when I was three. Didn’t have any relatives they could find. I’ve been bouncing around since then. Ward of the state. Been here for two years. You?” As he talks, he’s rolled over to grab a Nerf basketball that was tucked under his pillow, and has begun to repetitively shoot it in the air.

        I’m surprised he doesn’t know my history. “Got dumped in the desert when I was six.”

        “That sucks.”

        “Yeah, thanks. Uh, yours, too.” I watch as he aims the Nerf ball in the air over and over. It’s somewhat hypnotic.

        “So what’s West Roswell like? Does it suck as much as Goddard does?”

        I think it over. “Probably.”

        “The girls are hotter, though, aren’t they?”

        “Don’t-“ My hands clench automatically.

        “Yeah, yeah, I know. Hands off your girlfriend.”

        “She’s not my girlfriend.” Not really.

        “Then what were you guys doing in the back room at dinner last night?”

        I grit my teeth. “Look, she’s not my girlfriend, all right? And it’s none of your business. Why aren’t you adopted yet?”

        “Veronica and Toby like getting the monthly checks, I think. They do mostly spend them on us, though, which is more than I can say for my last placement.”

        “Yeah, same here. Hey, are they really as strict as they’re acting?”

        “You better believe it. They’re holding West Roswell over your head, right?”

        “Yeah.”

        “With me, it’s baseball. They know how to get you to do what they want – they give you what you want.”

        That’s awfully perceptive of him. We both fall into silence, Nate shooting the basketball and me watching it hypnotically. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

Chapter Nine

        The rest of the evening is pretty boring, which is what I figure most of my life in this house will be. I’m up early Friday morning to shower, do my hair, brush my teeth, throw on some clothes, and I’m at the door just as I hear a ringing sound. But it’s the phone, not the doorbell.

        “Hello?” Veronica asks. “May I ask who’s calling?”

        She emerges from the kitchen and holds the phone out to me. “It’s for you.”

        I take the phone. “Hey.”

        “Michael, I overslept, I’m sorry. Can your parents drive you in?”

        Foster. Maria, foster parents. There’s a huge difference. “I guess.”

        “I’ll see you second period, okay?”

        “Yeah, fine, bye.”

        I’m forced to join the Butlers for family breakfast, which is sausage, eggs and toast. Not too bad. And it’s not coming out of my allowance for once. Then I have to drive in with Veronica, who drops off Annie and Nate at Goddard first. By the time we pull into West Roswell, I see the Jeep up just ahead of us, turning in to the student parking lot.

        “Hey, let me off here,” I say.

        “I’m not supposed to stop in this lane.”

        “What?” Oh, hell. I keep forgetting these people are real adults who follow the actual rules. What a crock. I have to dash from the student drop-off to meet Max coming out of the parking lot.

        And something is up. I slide into my seat in first period awhile later contemplating it. Max and Liz are definitely back together again, and he’s totally giddy with lovesickness and horniness. Max is such a dog. But I can’t shake the other thing he said – that he and Liz are suddenly having flashes. Like, visions from each other. He’s seeing her as a child. And is remarkably vague about what she’s seeing. More research is needed.

        I spend the first four periods of the day contemplating this. It’s clearly an alien thing, cause how else would you explain it? So why has this never happened with me and Maria? It occurs to me that every time Maria has made out with me – and I can remember each and every time clearly, believe me – I’m on edge. Nervous. Overwhelmed. Maybe all I have to do is let go a little. It’s a thought.

        It’s a thought I’m thinking about hard in English class, but when I twist around to greet Maria after collapsing into my seat, she doesn’t look like she’s having the same thought.

        “I can’t see you guys at lunch today,” she whispers. “I have to go do this stupid astronomy make-up test.”

        I’m about to protest when class begins. We’ll have to chat later. But she suddenly has to pee between classes, so I end up walking to history by myself, and then she’s a few seconds after the bell and class has already started. By the end of history class I’m beyond frustrated, but I can’t show it. I’m still trying to act like this whole stupid boyfriend-girlfriend thing doesn’t matter to me, that we’re not that serious, and to go running to her when Max and Liz are suddenly having these weird occurrences, well… it would almost be a little too desperate. Right?

        The other thought occurs, of course, that Max is completely exaggerating. But I can’t wait to find out myself.

        The lunchtime pow-wow goes off as expected. Alex and Isabel are the first ones there. Liz, too, is missing; Max reports uncomfortably that she had to meet somebody to do some project for class. Me, Max, Isabel and Alex. One of these things is not like the other… Alex does a pretty good job keeping up a brave face, though, so I gotta give the kid credit for that. I share the alarm information and sketch a layout of the house for Max and Alex. Alex tries to take notes, but is discouraged from this when the rest of us harp on him for it. Taking notes? What the hell does he think he’s doing? Yeah, sure Alex, and while you’re at it be sure to throw it away right in front of the sheriff, please.

        Other than describing the house, I find myself silent for most of lunchtime. I don’t really have much to say, especially with Maria missing. Instead, once we get the business stuff out of the way, the others strike up a conversation about the baseball team for some bizarre reason. They’re having a good season, apparently. That would be the baseball team who are playing Goddard next week. I almost point out that my new roommate – I refuse to use the term foster brother, it implies an actual relationship – is on the Goddard team, but I decide not to mention it. It’s almost enough to make me want to go with them to the game, just so I can cheer against Nate Westing’s team.

        Eventually Alex wanders off, and Max brings the subject matter back to the flashes.

        “We just don’t feel like schooling you in the art of making out,” I finally burst out to Max, with Isabel nodding in agreement.

        “But this is different,” Max protests. “It’s not just me. Liz is seeing things. Real things. We’re getting images from each other. And you two are sure you’ve never experienced this? Cause if it’s not alien, I don’t know what it is.”

        The school day drags on. The final bell rings, and I find myself standing in the hallway looking back and forth. One way is the library, where Veronica Butler expects me to be in forty-five minutes. The other way is the ball fields, where I could at least stretch out and relax in the open air on the bleachers. My mind is made up within seconds, and I’m on my way outside. I stretch out to enjoy the sun and watch track practice. It’s a somewhat chilly day for Roswell, it’s only like seventy degrees. Happy winter.

        The minutes tick by. I’m well aware that it’s nearly time to meet Veronica, and I’m also very much aware that if she does try to page me through the office, it won’t be heard out here on the field. Plan A to postpone the inevitable doctor appointment.

        I see her coming before she notices me, but I look away to feign innocence. And I think she notices me a moment later, but also glances away and pretends not to see me until she’s right on me.

        “Oh,” she says casually, sidling up to the fence. “Michael. Hi.”

        “Hey,” I greet her back, trying to sound indifferent and failing completely.

        “Didja hear?” she asks, draping one arm over the rail. I flash back to Nate mentioning her the night before, and I already feel my blood boiling again. Mine. The girl is mine. Never mind the fact that I’m trying to play it cool. If I can’t have her, no one else can. But I want her.

        “The Max-Liz thing, with the flashes? She’s your friend, what do you think?”

        “That Max and Liz have discovered some new sensation?” Maria asks, smirking. A new sensation. That’s what Liz thinks. Liz, unlike Max, has at least made out before, one would