The Short-term Fix

by Yettaren

        “Oh, good, the Hornets.”

        I blink up at Gene, who’s obstinately dropped down beside me on the couch. Then I glance back at the screen, where the hockey players have suddenly, shockingly, donned their protective gear for shorts and tank tops, and traded their ice for a wood floor. Not to mention the odd, orange, bouncing excuse for a hockey puck…

        “The hockey game? Yo, I was watching that.”

        He shrugs at me. “Sorry. Basketball’s on.”

        Acorss the room, I glimpse Nate peeking around the doorway from the kitchen. I shake my head subtly.

        I flex my fingers a little and try not to appear too smug as I casually flick them at the screen, directed at the channel unit in the TV, short-circuiting Gene’s game. Thank you, Tess Harding.

        “Man, what the fuck?” he demands, as the Bruins and Rangers race across the ice.

        “I dunno, man,” I say. “Guess the TV’s broken.”

        Gene stares dumbly at the remote still safely in his hand, and as he aims it futily at the screen, I glimpse Nate smirking again.

        “What did you do?” Gene demands, peering at me suspiciously.

        “Me? I dunno. Guess it’s blown. Better tell Peter or somebody.”

        Gene glares at me for a moment before ambling out of the room, and Nate slides down into his place.

        “That was subtle?” Nate asks in disbelief.

        “Dude, shut up. Rangers are tied.” I lean forward, studying the screen.

        He stares at me. “Are you insane?”

        “No, but soon Gene’ll think he is. Go make me some popcorn.”       

        “Life or death is one thing. The Rangers game is another. What the hell are you doing?”

        “Trying to have a little fun around here.”

        “You can’t do that like normal people?”

        “Hey, I was perfectly happy watching my game until Bonehead Two came and had to screw with me.”

        “Boneheads One and Two would love dirt on you, dude. Don’t give it to them.”

        “So what’m I s’posed to do?”

        “Suck it up and deal . Don’t get yourself in more hot water than you already are.”

        I shrug. “It’s not like it really matters at this point.”

        Nate narrows his gaze. “If you want to go on vacation, it does.”

        I blink at him. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

        “Um, you know. The trip you and I were invited on.”

        “The huh?”

        “Judy, my caseworker, told me today – oh, but you haven’t seen yours this week, have you?”

“No,” I say slowly. “I think we have a meeting tomorrow or - wait, what the hell is going on?”

        Nate takes a deep breath. “Toby Butler has business on the East Coast for a couple of weeks,” he says.

I start at that. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard for a few days. “Yeah, and he’s not our foster dad anymore. So?”

“So Veronica and Annie are going with him, cause they’re both on summer break.”

        I’m no longer interested in the hockey game. “And again with the not-our-foster-family-anymore. So?”

“So they offered to take both you and me with them. As a chance to get out of New Mexico, see some of the country.”

What hockey game? “Can they even do that?”

“It’s not a custody thing, it’s a vacation. They can. If the judge approves it.”

I stiffen up automatically. “I don’t want to go in front of a judge.”

“Relax, Alf. This isn’t one of those hearings you’re required to attend. You don’t even have to be there. In fact, it’s a sure thing for you, nobody’s gonna argue it if you really wanna go.” He scratches his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything, should have let your caseworker say it.”

        I peer at him. “So what about you? It’s not a sure thing?”

        He shakes his head. “My mom can still object.”

        “That’s not fair. She doesn’t have custody of you.”

        “But she gets a say.”

        “So what’s she gonna do?”

        He shrugs helplessly. “I kinda hope she’ll say yes.” He glances at me worriedly. “But knowing my mom…” He runs his fingers through his loose, light hair, which falls as soon as he releases it.

        I rub my finger along the wooden armrest. “Bet you really want that whole family thing back, huh?”

        Nate shrugs again. “I’m doing okay without it,” he says. He casts his eyes down. “I guess I sorta do,” he confesses.

        “I know,” I say quietly, glancing down at my own lap. “What… can you do anything to convince your mom to let you go?”

        “Make a big play for her affection?” he guesses. “Promise her that I love her more than the Butlers?” He rolls his eyes a little.

        “That’s not true, though,” I venture my own guess, and he shrugs, still not looking up. I sniff the air gently and study his eyes. Reddened, a little puffy… “Nate… Nate, Nate, goddammit, Nate, are you stoned?”

        “No,” he responds automatically.

        “C’mon. I know you better than that.”

        He glances towards the hockey game uncomfortably. “I bummed a joint off of Jordan a little while ago. Not here. We went to the park.”

        “Oh, for the love of god…”

        “Hey look, Michael, it’s none of your business. I know you hate the stuff, and I’ll keep it away from you, okay?”

        “It’s not that I hate the stuff. It’s the alien thing. I told you what alcohol does to us; god only knows what marijuana would do to me.” I pause, scratching my eyebrow. “And you know what they’d do to you if you got caught with that stuff here. Like, forget any chance of being allowed on the Butler family vacation. Not to mention, you ever take a look at the Chaves County drug treatment center? Not much of a vacation, either.”

        “Forget it,” Nate says, heaving himself up from the couch. “Just… just forget it.”

        “No,” I say slowly. “Look, Nate, we’re getting you on this trip.”

        He turns and squints at me. “Don’t you think that’s a little ambitious? It’s out of our control, Michael.”

        “Well,” I say thoughtfully, “some people might say that rescuing an alien from a secret government facility is out of our control. Or outsmarting the head of the FBI Special Unit. Or discrediting the Special Unit. You notice a pattern here? Like, maybe we actually did all those things?”

        He starts to smile a little, but then it vanishes as quickly as it came. “Yeah, but none of those involved Christy Westing,” Nate says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t know what she’s like .”

        “Nate,” I say patiently. “Let me handle it. And in the meantime, get rid of the drug shit. I won’t help you if you’re trying to self-destruct at the same time.”

        His eyes widen a little as if to protest, but after a moment he nods. “Okay, then,” he says. “It’s a deal.”

Chapter 100

        At the first opportunity, I throw off my apron and bandanna, run my fingers through my hair, and dart out of the kitchen. I scan the dining area swiftly, hoping against hope that she hasn’t left yet…

        And indeed, there she is. I have to suppress a bleat of triumph. Idly picking at her remaining fries as she flips through a People magazine. I take a deep breath and approach her across the dining room of the Crashdown. It couldn’t be easier. Her coming to me from out of the blue. There’s destiny for you.

        She notices my approach out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, if you could get me the check, that’d be real cool,” she says distantly.

        Unfazed, I slide into the booth across from her and fix what I hope is a steely gaze on her face. “Christy Westing.”

        She looks up and fights for a similar glare. “Who? Oh…Matthew…” she says, searching helplessly for the rest of my name.

        The corner of my mouth turns up a little. “Wrong. It’s Michael, actually.”

        “Matthew, Michael, whatever,” she says darkly.

        “No, not whatever . My name is Michael, you will get that straight from the get-go.”

“Michael,” she repeats mechanically. “All right, we’re straight. You got anything else to add here, or are you just disrupting my meal for the hell of it?”

        Oh, good, she’s ruffled. I blink. “Your son, Nate. He’s a real good kid.”

        She softens a bit and allows a small smile. “Yeah. I know.”

        “Got a lot of good things going for him.”

        “Yeah, and?”

        “And you’re not one of them.” I study her reaction, and am satisfied to see her defenses snapping back up with anger.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me. How do you manage to give birth to someone and then wreck their life so completely? Cause you know, I don’t know my birth parents, so I don’t really understand how all this works, but I don’t get you at all.”

        “More water?”

        I glance up at the new waitress, profoundly annoyed, and start rifling my brain for her name. “Go away… Courtney,” I say as it comes back to me. Courtney shrugs and wanders off complacently.

        “Look,” Christy says, leaning in with a grim expression. “I don’t know why it’s any business of yours, but-“

        “Oh, it’s my business,” I interrupt her, laying my hand flat on the table. “Totally my business. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but somehow your goddamn offspring up and got me caring about him.”

        “Funny how he manages to do that to people,” she says weakly. I’m only shaken for a moment.

        “You don’t know the first thing about what Nate needs in his life,” I snap.

        Her eyes blaze in response. “And I’m sure you do, because of your own excellent upbringing.”

        I try to ignore her words. “He needs a family.”

        “He has one!”

        “You’re a visit every other Monday. The Butlers were his family.”

        Now I’ve really gone and pissed her off. “They didn’t give birth to him They didn’t change his diapers like I did, he never suckled that old lady’s breast.”

        I shudder involuntarily at the horrifying mental image. Score one point for Christy on that one. “Well yeah, but they never abandoned a three year old, either.”

        “Oh. I see. And what exactly do you know about that?”

        I regard her coolly. “Nate told me. He tells me a lot of things, actually. He ever tell you anything?”

        “That he was scared of you!” she hisses back, and I lose my cool for just a second.

        “Yeah, well, he’s not,” is the best response I can come up with. At one point Nate was really scared of me? “You really don’t know anything about him.”

        “It’s not my fault the courts won’t let me see my own son.”

        I can’t fucking believe this. “Yes, it is! Are you nuts on top of everything else? Nobody forced the goddamn drugs into your body, woman! Take responsibility already-”

        “You are a stupid, stupid child,” she begins, and I’m only distracted from further emotional aggression by the presence of Courtney at my elbow.

        “Hey. Michael,” she says hesitantly. “Everything okay over here?”

        As I blink up at her, annoyed, it occurs to me that I’m not getting anywhere. I offer a sweet smile. “It’s peachy, Courtney, now get out .” My voice turns nasty on the end.

        She throws her hands up in surrender and backs off as I turn back to Christy. “Nate wants to go on vacation with the Butlers,” I say bluntly.

        “So I hear.” She chomps on a fry. “I assume you’re going on this little voyage, as well?” I detect the scorn in her voice.

        “Not the point,” I say stiffly. “It’s a good opportunity for him. Um, educational and all.”

        “Yeah, right,” she says. “Sure, sure, I get it. Re-educate him back into their family and away from me.”

        “Ever consider that maybe he needs that?”

        “You think I don’t have people telling me this?” she bursts out. “I’m his parent. His only one. Social workers, judges, every fucking person I know, Nate… everybody tells me to do something different, but I know, in my heart, what my son needs. Even when he doesn’t.”

        “You don’t!” I blurt out. “You so fucking don’t. Jesus Christ.” I thump my head back on the seat of the booth.

        “I did my homework on you,” she says, peering at me suspiciously. “I know you’re the reason Nate ran away last month…”

        “Ran?… Oh, he did not run away,” I protest, but she continues past my interruption.

        “I know you’re encouraging his delinquency. I don’t think he belonged with the Butlers, but I don’t think he belongs with you, either.” Is that a hint of a smile on her face?

        “You wouldn’t,” I breathe in a whisper. Sure, things at Tilden Street were fine before Nate came along, but the thought of Nate being placed somewhere else, without the Butlers, without me…

        “I will do whatever I can to make sure my son is being raised properly, just as long as I’m not allowed to do it directly myself.”

        I suck in my breath. “You think I’m the bad influence on him ?”

        “You’re the one with the history of delinquency. Nate was fine before you came into the picture.”

        I beg to differ, but the last thing I want to do now is go into Nate’s delinquent behavior. “I didn’t make him do anything. You want to do right by him, you make sure he’s not alone. You can’t take him away from the Butlers and take him away from me.”

        Did I really just say that? By the expression on her face, I think that indeed I did. I fight for words to continue my point.

        “What’ll he be left with then?” I ask, continuing on in her silence. “You?” I can’t keep the scorn out of my voice.

        “His mother ,” she reminds me.

        “You want to be his mother so bad, start acting like it,” I snap.

        “You’re the expert on parents? I know your last foster dad was a drunken loser,” she says, as if she thinks these words are going to somehow have some kind of effect on me. Not a chance.

        “I know what makes a bad parent,” I point out. “And right now, I wouldn’t rank you above Hank Whitmore in my book at all.” I haven’t said Hank’s full name since he left Roswell, and I feel a strange pang of emotion as the words come out of my mouth.

        “Then you don’t know anything,” she says. “Anything at all. I love my son.”

        It occurs to me that Hank never did describe our relationship with the word love, and even when things were good, I don’t think I would have brought up that word in that household. …In our household. But that’s beside the point.

“I know what love is,” I say quietly. I do now. “And I know a hell of a lot about what it’s like to hurt someone you love. I’m real good at that, you know.”

        “Nate doesn’t know what’s best for him. You don’t know what’s best for him. I do.”

        “If you did, you wouldn’t have screwed him up,” I say. “He could have had a nice, normal childhood. That’s something I never could have had. My life wasn’t gonna be that way, no matter what, but his could have been. If you’d kept it together yourself, or if you’d just stood aside and let him lead a normal life, it could have been.”

“I was in a fog,” she says slowly. “I didn’t know what was happening around me, I lost control, and I did some stupid things. And then I woke up, and here was this little life that I’d screwed up. Only he wasn’t mine anymore. And no matter what I’ve done since, I can’t make it up to him.” She stares at me. “I know what it’s like to hurt someone you love. I’m good at that, too.”

        “Maybe you need to work a little harder on being bad at that.”

        “I am his mother,” she says again. “I’m his mother .”

        “Then shut the fuck up and start acting like it,” I say. “If I were you, I’d be ashamed of myself for the things I’d done to my own son.”

        With that, I push myself away from the table and storm back towards the kitchen, feeling her eyes on me the entire time.

        Somehow, I doubt I helped Nate all that much, but damned if I don’t feel better. I smile slowly to myself as I return to the grill.

Chapter 101

        “So then we’ll leave on the third and be back on the twelfth. You can pack clothes for nine days if you want, but we’ll have access to laundry when we go to my brother Albie’s house.”

        I scribble on the notebad next to the phone. July 3-12. 9 days. Albie. “Albie,” I repeat. This is next week we’re talking about. My summer is flying.

“We’ll be going there about the fifth. We’ll celebrate the holiday in the city, they do fireworks and everything.”

“Holiday, right,” I repeat. “Yeah.” I hesitate. “Any word yet on if Nate’s clear to go or not?”

        “Well,” she says, taking a deep breath. “You know his hearing is tomorrow.”

        “I didn’t know,” I say. “He’s been kinda quiet about it.” My hearing was earlier today, and I got a call from Daniel Velasquez this morning that everything was approved. I never knew good things could come so easily. So, at least for nine hot days in July, I’ll have something resembling a family again. For what it’s worth.

“Maybe you can come over for dinner sometime this week,” Veronica says. “I’ll cook, you can help us plan some of what we’ll be doing.”

        Veronica cooking. For once, that sounds really good. I’m sick of going back and forth between Tilden Street dinners and bumming food at the Crashdown. I’m a little wary at what this trip is going to be like if Nate gets stuck in New Mexico, but at least Annie’ll be there. And at this point, that actually really does sound like a vacation.

“How’s Annie doing?” I ask hesitantly.

“Oh, she’s bored and driving me crazy,” Veronica laughs. “She’s going to a summer day camp, but she’s miserable there. I can’t wait to have you around to distract her, actually.”

        “You’re serious.”

        “Absolutely,” she says with a genuine tone. “It’s been quiet around here without the two of you.”

        The two of us. Again I find myself wondering what it’ll be like if it’s just me. It’s Nate that they really want; I know that and they know that. Trouble is, now that Nate and I are linked, you can’t have him without me. But you might get me without him.

“Well, count on us to keep things interesting,” I say dryly.

“That I am,” Veronica says. “That I am. How about dinner on Wednesday, you free?”

        “I am,” I say slowly. And the unspoken thought: by then, we’ll know if Nate is coming or not.

“Tell Nate I said hi,” she says softly.

“I will,” I promise her before hanging up. I glance at the clock. Five minutes until Gene’s phone time. We’re all good.

The phone rings again and I pick it up, assuming Veronica forgot something. “Hello?”

        “Michael! It’s you!” I smack my palm against my forehead. Of course Maria would have good enough timing to call the one time I pick up the phone. Then again, she’s been leaving like four messages a day…

But somehow, I can’t bring myself to hang up the phone. Not after what happened that night last week. I can’t get her out of my mind… I settle my elbow on the armrest of the couch and bury my forehead in my palm, closing my eyes against the pain of it all.

“Maria,” I say with a sigh. “I can’t talk, the phone’s booked for seven o’ clock.”

“Then can I call you back after that?” she begs. “Please.”
       
I scratch my eyebrow. At this point…? “Just let me have it,” I sigh, opening my eyes a crack.

“I heard you’re going on a trip.”
       
“Yeah, next week, the Butlers.”
       
“Oh,” she says. “Oh, god, Michael, I’m really glad to hear that, really, I am. I think that’ll be fun for you.”

“Fun?” I snort. “I certainly hope so.” I twist my rings on my fingers, glancing up nervously as I wait for Gene’s inevitable appearance in the common room.

“I remember back when you said you wanted to get out of Roswell,” she says, and I blink as I remember exactly what she’s talking about. It seems like so long ago that we were stuck in a seedy motel room saying things that we didn’t mean to say… It seems like this Maria is a completely different person from the annoying girl who wouldn’t get out of the car that day… I know her so well…

“Yeah,” I grunt.

“I mean, I know it’s not permanent or anything like that, but still, you should enjoy seeing more of the world, right? That’s an exciting thing for you, right?”

“I guess,” I mumble. I pause. “How are you doing?” I ask reluctantly.

“I’m good,” she says, sounding pleased at the question. “It’s been a slow summer, and you know, right about now, that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I agree, glad to have something to agree about.

“I talked to Liz on the phone, she’s having a good time in Florida,” Maria continues.

“That’s… good,” I say.

“Have you talked to Max?”

“No,” I say, surprised a little. “No. I really haven’t.” The phone beeps. “Maria, hang on, somebody else is calling.” I hate sharing a phone with this many guys in one house. I fiddle with the requisite buttons.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Nathan there?”

“Who’s calling?” I ask, bored. I should just take a message…

“This is Judy, his caseworker.”

I bite my lip. “Okay, hang on just a sec.” I beep back to Maria. “Gotta go, Nate’s social worker is on the other line, I think it’s important.”

“Will you call me back later?” Maria pleads.

I pause. “Maria, why are you being so fucking persistant?”

“Because I know I’m getting through to you sooner or later,” she says stubbornly. “Will you call me, or not?”

I sigh. I can’t help but suspect that somehow she’s right. “I’ll call.”

“You better.”

“Maria…” I chew on my lip. “I…” I have to say it. “I do… miss you.”

There’s a long silence on her end. “Oh… well, you’d better call, then, huh?”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye,” she says wistfully. I click back over to Judy, still uncomfortable with this call-waiting thing.

“Nate!” I yell out through the house. My voice echoes along the hallway leading to the bulk of the bedrooms. After a moment, Nate emerges, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, barefoot. “Judy’s on the phone for you!”

I pass the phone to him as I head back down the hallway, bumping into Gene as I do, en route to his nightly Viv call. “Nate’s caseworker is on the phone,” I inform him, unable to suppress a smirk. The house rule is that business calls – for work, school or social services reasons – always take precedence over personal calls, even if you have the phone “reserved” from seven to eight by sheer intimidation. He glares at me, but there isn’t much I can do right now.

I reach up for the doorway and give the top of it an amiable tap as I pass into the back room of the house. We have two common areas, the “loud” one and the “quiet” one. The loud one has the TV, the phone, the house meetings, all that crap. It’s the one by the kitchen and dining room. Then here, at the back of the house, is the study room, somehow abandoned in the throes of summer vacation. In the absence of any need to study, we’ve moved all the board games back to this room for the rest of the month, and I reach for a deck of cards to start up a game of Solitaire. I hit the play button on the stereo – another luxury not in the study room during the school year. My “Master of Puppets” CD has been living in it for the better part of the week, and I settle back as I enjoy the opening strands of The Thing That Should Not Be and deal out my hand.

“This, this is not music,” Jordan says, popping his head into the room.

“Oh, yeah, so what is?” I ask, disinterested, as I continue to deal the cards.

“Phish,” he says with satisfaction. “Now, that’s music.”

I scoff at him as he wanders in. “Fucking hippie.”

        “Yup, that’s me,” he says cheerfully. “Hey, listen, I’m bored, wanna help me organize a poker tournament tonight?”

        “I’ll play in it,” I say, flipping up my first cards. “But you can organize it by your own damn self.” I set the ace of spades up and immediately place the two of spades on top. Good hand so far. The two of spades unearths the ace of diamonds. Score.
       
“Well, that works,” Jordan replies to my offer with mild satisfaction.

“I’ll play.”

Jordan and I nearly jump out of our skins at the voice, and turn around to spy Anthony, hiding in a recliner in the corner, nose buried in a book. “Jesus Christ,” I say, placing a hand to my chest. “I didn’t know you were even there.”

Anthony shrugs. “Well, I like poker, too.” It’s about the longest thing I’ve heard him say since I moved in.

Jordan bustles off in search of more players, and I glance with interest over at Anthony, hidden mostly under a blanket, hence the fact that I didn’t notice him. A few months ago, I would have completely blown off every last asshole in this place. I’m still wary of really opening up to everybody, but if the last couple of months have taught me anything, it’s that people don’t always completely suck.

“Whatcha readin’?” I ask Anthony.

He holds up the book, and I squint to read it. “The Book of Daniel,” I say aloud. “What is that, like the Bible or something?”
       
He shakes his head. “Fictionalization of the Rosenberg trial,” he says.

“The huh?”
       
“You know, the Jewish couple the U.S. electrocuted for selling atomic secrets to the Russians.” Definitely the longest thing I’ve heard him say.

“Oh,” I say, not sure what else to say.

“It’s about their son,” he says.

        “That’s gotta suck,” I say hesitantly.

        We’re interrupted from this enlightening discussion by Nate bursting into the room, breathless. “ There you are,” he says to me.

        “What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, dropping my cards on the table.

        “Nothing,” he says. “That’s just it. What did you say to my mom, anyway?”

        I’d mentioned to him that we talked at the Crashdown, but nothing more. “Uh, why?” I ask nervously.

        He leans against the doorframe. “So.”

“So?”

“So that was Judy on the phone. She talked to Christy’s lawyer. My hearing tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask anxiously.

Nate licks his lips. “They’re not contesting it at all. They’re not even coming. It’s gonna be smooth sailing like yours.”
       
For the first time all month, I feel excited about something. “So… that means you’re comin’ on the trip, then?” I ask.

        Nate bites his lip and nods, grinning from ear to ear.

        I leap from my seat and barge over to him, clapping him on the back. He grabs my arms, and we jump around for a moment, laughing together like six year olds.

        “We’re getting’ out of here!” Nate bursts out, throwing his head back. “Goodbye, Roswell!”

        “Goodbye, New Mexico, hello world!” I say, as we settle back down, the two of us still beaming. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him so happy, and come to think of it, I might just look the same way about right now.

“So,” I say with a deep breath, “you ready to start packing?”

Chapter 102

I cast a frustrated glance at the t-shirts spread out on my bed. Not only can I not decide which ones to bring, it’s a reminder that I still have two of Alex Whitman’s t-shirts in my possession. I gotta take care of that. But with me leaving tomorrow, it’ll have to wait until I get back.

I reach for my underwear and grab a handful of boxers and socks to drop onto my bed beside the rest of my vacation collection. That’s the easy part. I wish the wardrobe stuff were as easy.

I’m bringing a disposable camera that Isabel bought for me as a “going-away” present, and the bulk of my Metallica CD’s, in the hope that I can bum Nate’s Discman off of him for at least part of the trip. And The Book of Daniel, which Anthony left on my pillow the other day. The kid’s quiet, but he knows how to communicate with few words.

I pause to survey my stash, and have to smile and shake my head a little. Every last damn possession reminds me of someone else. How could I have ever thought that I was alone, anyway? Nate was right…

The little bugger’s off at the Crashdown, at the moment. His sixteenth birthday falls during our trip, which means by the time we return, he’ll be old enough for at least a busboy position. So he’s interviewing with Mr. Parker before we leave. I’m not sure that I like the idea of living with and working with the kid, but it beats loaning him money all the time. And would give me somebody to confide in at the restaurant, with Liz gone for the summer and Maria on separate shifts all the time. It’s gotten… lonely.

I’ve never really gone on a vacation before. I’ve been on a handful of road trips – the one to Marathon, Texas being among the more memorable – but an actual vacation ? For once in my life, I feel excited. Like I’m growing wings. A chance to see what the planet really looks like beyond Roswell. Maybe it’s not a trip back to my own home just yet, but it’s a taste of what else life can be.

I grab five t-shirts at random and shove them into my duffel bag, then grab for my pants. I can handle this. On second thought, I shove four more shirts in. Sure, Veronica said we can do laundry, but I want to keep my wardrobe options open…

I hear a knock at the door. “Come in,” I say.

It’s Edgar. “Mind if I come in?” he asks politely.

“I just said-“ I start to say, then notice Harry lurking behind him, along with a third guy I don’t recognize. “What the hell?”

“We’re just conducting a random room search is all,” Edgar says, then notices my underwear hanging out on my bed by the duffel bag. “No big deal… you know, we’ll come back in a few minutes if you want.”

“Yeah, fine, do that,” I say, watching them go.

Holy shit. My room is fairly search-proof at this point, all our alien artifacts are safely sequestered at Max’s house, but it’s not my room I’m worried about. I shove my underwear into the duffel bag as soon as they’re out of sight, to make it look like I did something, and then creep to the doorway.

I peer around the corner and watch as they head into Rusty and Jordan’s room. As soon as they’re in, I dart across the hall to Nate’s room and close the door behind me.

I glance around his tiny living space. His room feels so much more cramped than mine – his stereo, computer, all that shit came with him. Not to mention years of accumulated crap, compared to my fairly nomadic existence. Which makes this part all that harder.

My eyes dart in the direction of Rusty and Jordan’s room. I could ask Jordan the answer to the burning question, but that would risk exposing too much. Or I could call Nate at the Crashdown, but again… do I really want to interrupt his job interview with Mr. Parker to ask him where he keeps his drug stash?

Because I know it’s here somewhere. I know that despite what he promised, he was stoned last night when he came back from the woods with Jordan and Rusty. And if there’s anything, anything at all in this room when the Holy Trinity comes around, Nate’s ass is toast.

Why the hell a room search now? I know the answer before I’ve even finished asking myself the question. This is by far the clearest, most direct, and most effective volley so far in the Tilden Street War of the Wards. Dashawn and Gene. They saw Jordan, Rusty and Nate coming back from the woods last night, too. Bradley didn’t, he was in the office the whole time and barely said hi to them. I was in the common room watching the whole thing, and I know exactly whose ass to kick should anything drastic happen as a result of this.

I rifle through Nate’s sock drawer, but nothing. I shove my hand under his pillow, under his mattress, under his sheets, under his shoes. Maybe I’m lucky and he has it on him… but no, he’s at a job interview. No way would he take Mary Jane to a job interview. Even Nate’s not that stupid.

Where the hell…? I take a moment to glance back out in the hallway. It’s still empty, they’re still in Rusty and Jordan’s room. They’re taking their time. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

I dive into his laundry basket, but stop after I’m hit by both the overwhelming stench and the realization that nobody would keep a drug stash in their laundry basket, for a variety of reasons. I rifle through his desk drawer, but nothing.

I rub my hands together as I survey Nate’s room helplessly. Maybe there really isn’t anything here… maybe he did get a clue.

Then again, this is Nate we’re talking about.

And then, with that, my eyes settle on his baseball team picture.

The team that he quit.

The picture that once hid an entire camera on another wall…

I dart across the room and carefully lift the picture off the wall. As it comes off in my hands, for the first time I notice Nate in the portrait – kneeling in the front row, holding a bat in a posed position, a somber expression on his face in contrast to the smiles of his teammates. I turn it over and breathe a sigh – a mixture of relief and frustration – as I spot the sandwich baggie taped there, with telltale dried greens gathered at the bottom of it. A fairly substantial stash of weed. And a small bright blue glass bong rolling around in there to boot.

“You little son of a bitch,” I mutter aloud in Nate’s untimely absence. “I’m going to blast you to fucking oblivion when I get my hands on you.” I rip the bag from the photo frame with little sympathy, shove it into my pocket and replace the picture on the wall, then take a last look around to make sure everything’s normal before returning to the hallway.

They’re in Dashawn and Milvio’s room now. I take a deep breath and close my door behind me. I’ve got a couple of minutes to spare.

I survey my own room. It’s not going to do me any good to get caught with the stuff on me, either. And I don’t want to risk destroying it with my powers – not only would Nate kick my ass, but the lingering effects might be a dead giveaway, too. I don’t need to be mixing my powers with marijuana at all. I need to find something else to do.

I knock briefly up the wall, listening for a sufficiently hollow place. Once I find it, I flatten my palm along the wallpaper and focus. Focus. Tess Harding, where are you when I need you? But her training is kicking in. And as I watch in near-amazement, the wall gives way, opening just enough to reveal a small ledge on top of a beam. Perfect.

Feeling rather proud of myself, I set the weed-and-drug-paraphernelia assortment carefully on the ledge before putting my hand up to fix the wall back into place. I take a step back to regard my work. I’m really rather pleased.

But only for a moment. Because then I lean up against the wall and close my eyes. Close call. Way too close for my comfort.

The knock sounds at the door. “Michael?”

“Come in!” I shout, then lick my lips. I sound way too nervous. I arrange myself casually by the desk as the door opens, trying desperately to appear not desperate.

“We’re just going to look around,” Harry explains as they file in. “You’re free to stay or go, whatever.”

“No, by all means,” I say, gesturing and trying to keep my voice steady. “Sorry for the mess, I’m leaving for vacation tomorrow.”

“Right, right,” Harry says as he begins to root through my wardrobe. “Have a good time with that.”

“I will,” I say distantly. “You boys looking for anything in particular?” As if it wasn’t obvious that this was a drug search. Hell, maybe they’ll turn up my pocketknife for me.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “So sorry, Michael, this is just routine procedure. You understand.”

“Sure, gentlemen, eat your hearts out,” I say. Edgar’s head shoots up at that – Edgar doesn’t like my attitude very much in general – but then he goes right back to poking my mattress.

Harry takes to running his hands over the sheets tacked on my wall, and poking around behind them. I shudder a little as I lean up against the desk. At this moment, I don’t care what I have to do, how many judges I have to blow, I’m a hundred percent ready to be emancipated.

“You boys do this a lot?” I ask nervously from my position at the desk, my eyes taking in every movement, despite the fact that I know I have nothing to worry about.

“Only once in awhile,” Harry assures me. “When we feel the need.”

“And you’re doing all the rooms?” I ask.

“Yup,” Edgar says.

I hold my breath as the third guy passes the wall that only moments ago was parted to hide Nate’s little package, but of course none of them can possibly fathom the concept that the resident they’re currently searching is from outer space and has the ability to meld the molecular structure of the wall to hide illegal drugs. Small favors.

Within a few moments, they move on, and I collapse onto my bed as soon as the door is closed, covering my eyes with relief.

That was close.

That was too close.

I return to packing, and am only interrupted a few minutes later by a knock at the door. It’s Jordan. I set my CD case down as soon as I catch the expression on his face.

“I’m so screwed,” he moans as he comes into my room. “So screwed.” He glances at me worriedly. “And Nate probably is, too.”

I lick my lips. “Really. They find anything on you?”

Jordan closes his eyes and nods.

“Man, I’m sorry.”

His eyes fly open. “Dude, you don’t understand. I was in the treatment facility before I got transferred here. This was my second chance.”

I honestly don’t know what to say.

“And Nate had stuff, too,” he says. “I don’t know what they found, but it can’t be good.”

“What did Nate have?” I ask hesitantly. “Do you know exactly?” Because if I missed anything…

“Just some weed, oh, and I think a pipe,” Jordan says confidently. “Maybe he hid it well enough, I don’t know. Why did they search now?”

“Dashawn,” I say assuredly. “I’m sure it was Dashawn.”

Jordan peers at me. “Not that I disagree, but I want to hear why you think so.”

“Well, when you guys got back from your excursion last night, I don’t know exactly if your mental state could register this or not,” Jordan glowers slightly at the words, “but Dashawn was paying real close attention. He’s had it in for me and Nate practically since we got here. He probably saw this as his chance to get back at us for interfering with him.”

“Then he’s dead,” Jordan says confidently. “Even if I’m going back to the facility, they can’t get me in there for at least a week. I’ll take care of Dashawn before that,” he says grimly.

“Look,” I say. “Man, it sucks that you got caught, but… don’t make the situation worse than it already is.”

“That’s easy for you to say. They turn up anything in here?” he asks, glancing around.

“No,” I confess, trying to keep from glancing to the disturbed section of wall. “No, I was clear.”

“Then how about you leave the revenge trip to those of us who have one?” he asks. “If you don’t mind.”

I shrug. “I’ve said my peace,” I say. I watch him go with apprehension.

Nate finally turns up an hour later, beaming with pride at joining the world of the employed and cheerfully oblivious to what’s happened in his absence. I summon him into the study and close the door behind us, glancing around to make sure nobody’s tucked away in a corner.

“You,” I say in a grave voice, “are the biggest moron I have ever had the privilege of telling off.”

“Why, what-?” he starts, but before he can get another word out, I’m laying in to him.

“You’re goddamn lucky I was here and that my powers have gotten good enough to cover for you, cause if not, you’d be packing the rest of your things in those bags, and you wouldn’t be off to vacation with your old foster family, you’d be off to live with a bunch of druggies in rehab. How can you be so stupid? I fucking told you to get rid of that shit! It’d be your own damn fault if you screwed this up now. All the chances you’ve got going for you, all the possibility, and you almost screwed it up for a stupid dime bag of weed?”

“Hold on,” he says. “What happened?”

“Drug search, Einstein. We think Dashawn turned the staff on to the fact that you guys were doing a little more than communing with nature yesterday. Which was nasty on his part, but stupid on yours!”

“What did you mean about your powers?”

I shrug. “I used ‘em to hide your stuff,” I say, then hesitate. “Did you have anything other than the stash behind the baseball picture?”

Nate relaxes into a look of astonishment and relief. “No-”.

“Then you’re clear. But Jordan’s not. His ass is already packing for a return trip to the drug treatment facility.”

Nate’s jaw drops. “You couldn’t save him while you were at it, flaunting your powers like that?”

“Um, no?” I ask. “Keep in mind, that whole secret powers thing is a secret? There’s no way I could have saved him without giving myself away. I wouldn’t have been able to lift a finger to help you if you didn’t already know the truth.”

He sighs and glances down at the ground. “I know.”

“And I’m not gonna do it again,” I say evenly. “From here on out, you get your shit together, and don’t expect any alien business keeping your ass clean.”

His jaw drops for a moment, then he shuts it quickly. “Deal,” he says.

I peer at him suspiciously. “You mean it this time?”

“I do,” Nate assures me, his head bobbing up and down. “Christ, Michael, I do.” He shakes his head. “I mean it.” He pauses. “Hey, what’d you do with the stuff exactly?”

I stare at him, astounded. Of all the…? “I’m not telling.”

“Michael, man, that stuff cost me a fortune,” he whines. “It was most definitely not a dime bag.”

Come to think of it, I don’t even know exactly what a dime bag is, but that’s irrelevant right now. “Good. Then maybe you’ll think about the consequences of drug use next time before you blow all your change on stuff that’s just gonna screw your life up.”

“What are you, the fucking DARE officer?”

“For you? Yes. Yes, I am. Because I’m not coming to your rescue again, you hear me? I’m not busting my ass to save yours. I’m sick of it, Nate. You want to turn your life around? You work for it. Don’t lie to me, don’t give me crap. You don’t need the stuff anymore if you’re serious, and if you’re not serious, then I’m not giving it back to you.”

He starts to protest, then realizes that it’s pointless. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. You’re right.”

I offer a half-smile, not convinced of his sincerity just yet. “Better go pack,” I say. “Only a few more hours.”

“Right,” Nate says with relief and scurries off. I watch him go, worried, as I feel all my trust in him slipping away slowly.

Chapter 103

I hear the doorbell sound - a regular chime, no classical music here - and I leap to my feet, dropping the Sports Illustrated I bought for Nate on the floor of the living room. It lands in a disheveled heap, forgotten. I bound over the back of the couch in one bounce, pop up from my landing, and dash for the door. From the corner of my eye I see Joseph poking his head out of the office to see who the visitor is.

“It’s for me,” I call to him casually, trying to downplay my eagerness, and he raises an eyebrow, but allows me to open the door anyway.

“Hey,” I grunt, as the door reveals the two tall figures on the doorstep, one dark and brooding, one light and anxious. Max has shoved his hands in his pockets and is trying to cover his intense curiousity about the home, I can tell already this is gonna be fun. Isabel is way overdressed for this place, she’s got short shorts and sunglasses on, as well as a bright, tight red t-shirt, and I know I’ve got to get her to my bedroom before any of the guys see her. Nate especially. What is she thinking wearing that here? To this teeming bastion of testosterone?

“Looks nice,” Max says neutrally, though he can hardly even bear to look around.

“Huh. Yeah. C’mon. My room’s this way.” I drag them to the door of the office and stop. “Hey, Joseph, my friends and I are gonna be in my room, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Joseph says, squinting at Isabel. I roll my eyes and set off down the hall, Max and Isabel hurrying along behind me. I want to get them out of the common space, into my space, because I don’t want them to be something I have to share with the rest of the house. Isabel and Max are mine, and mine alone. We make our way past the blaring sounds of Slim Shady coming off of Dashawn’s stereo. I wince against the auditory onslaught.

“So I called Tess, she should be here any minute, too,” I say as soon as we’ve closed the door. Max leans up against the wall, his eyes scanning the small room. Isabel immediately takes to running her finger along the dresser, then studying the results closely. “Are you checking up on my cleaning skills?”

“Just to see how this independent life skills thing is working for you.”

“Ha, ha,” I say darkly.

She rolls her eyes. “Chill out, Michael, I’m kidding. Really. This looks nice.”

“Kinda institutional, isn’t it?” Max asks, and I blink in surprise at his uncharacteristic bluntness.

“It serves its purpose,” I point out, tilting my head as I stare at him. Again, I feel the chasm between us, Max and his college fund and lawyer father, me and my social worker. Some moments we’re so close, and then we’re so far away. As if we were on different planets, instead of being two of the only people to share the same interplanetary destiny…

We’re interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. “Stay put.” I point my finger at the two of them, warning, before darting out to the hall.

“I brought buffalo wings,” Tess says bluntly as soon as I open the door, holding up the takeout food container. I can’t help but smile. “And Pepsi.”

“Oh, bless you,” I say in spite of myself as I take the two-liter away from her and lead her towards the bedroom. I didn’t even tell her how bad tonight’s dinner was, but somehow she knew.

“Mr. Guerin?” Joseph calls. I whirl on my heel and peek into the office. His eyes scan Tess’s small form. “You are going to leave the door open, right?”

I heave a sigh, embarrassed that Tess has to be here to listen to this conversation. “Look. We have to talk privately. There will be no sex. Those two who came through before are brother and sister, and are not sick perverts. Do I make myself clear?” I notice Tess shifting uncomfortably at that. It occurs to me that she believes pretty strongly that we’re in fact supposed to be two couples. I’m trying my best to forget that.

“Um,” Joseph says, long and hard.

I shake my head at him, trying to contain my growing agitation. “I’m sixteen. A little privacy, if you don’t mind?”

Joseph sighs. “If one of you kids turns up pregnant I’m never trusting you again.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Whatever.” I glance at Tess as we continue towards my room.

“You put up with this?” she asks quietly as I open the door.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do,” Tess says passionately, oblivious to the sight of Max and Isabel perched on my bed. She closes the door behind us. “It’s entirely your choice. The only thing keeping you here is the law, and it’s not our law. We won’t be here forever. It doesn’t matter. All you have to do is blow it off. Run away, come stay with me. You always can.”

“I have to hedge my bets,” I say, unnerved, as I set the Pepsi on my dresser. “I can’t just blow off the whole social services system. It sucks, yeah, but if I blow it off, I might not have anything left. You don’t know what it’s like, you always had somebody there to take care of you.”

Tess snorts a little. “Yeah, and where is he now?”

“Look,” Max snaps, “leave him alone, Tess.” He lays his dark eyes solidly on me. “He’s got to decide for himself.”

“Thank you, Maxwell,” I say in surprise.

Tess sniffs as she paces the corner of my room, glancing over the sheets on the wall. I can see in her eyes that she disapproves of the decoration, but she’s not about to speak up and say a word. No way could I stand living with that girl for more than three hours. Tops. “So what’s this all about? Alien emergency?”

“No,” I say. “Actually. A human one.” I pause to let the words sink in. “And I don’t know what to do about it.” I lick my lips. “And every single one of you knows I don’t ask for help. But I’m askin’.”

“What’s wrong?” Max asks, instantly concerned and over-protective. Isabel leans forward as well. Tess merely glances out the window, refusing to meet my gaze.

After a brief pause, I launch into an abbreviated description of the events of the last twenty-four hours, throwing in a few choice words about Gene and Dashawn for emphasis.

“So Jordan’s gotta go back to the treatment facility, but he’s not leaving for a coupla days. And I’m afraid something’s gonna bubble over before then, before our trip tomorrow, and it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“What kind of place is this?” Isabel finally bursts out, seeing that at last I’m finished. She leans forward intensely, her hands propped on her knees. “My god, Michael. Now you’re living with drug addicts, and… and bullies? Tess is right. Just leave. That’s all you have to do. You can stay with her, you can stay with us, just… just, why do you put up with this? Why are you living this way?” There are tears in her eyes. Tears for me. I lean up against the dresser, my hands steadying myself, trying to stay calm. I take a deep breath.

“This is my life, Isabel,” I remind her. “I can’t just take off on my own now. Maybe at one point I could have.” Maybe I almost did. “But I still have other things to think about. Other people. Nate,” I remind her.

“Yeah, and he’s probably gonna be out of here soon anyway. What does it matter to you?”

I heave a sigh. “Well, maybe when he’s back with whatever family he’s gonna end up with, I can take off. But right now that doesn’t matter. And I got politics here to work out, and for that, I’m asking for help. I’m not asking to escape. I’m asking to deal.”

The three of them fall silent, staring at me, and I suddenly feel very much on the spot. Almost like they’re looking at something in me that they’ve never seen before. Maybe they are. I lick my lips and glance down at my boots, the silence still settling heavy over the room.

“Guys?” I ask finally, still examining my shoelaces. “Say something.”

“I don’t think we know what to say, Michael,” Max says softly. I finally glance up, and they’re all staring at me still. Like they don’t even recognize me. I shift my weight impatiently.

“Well, give me some advice, or something,” I snap. “I didn’t invite you all over here to just gape at me like that.”

“Where’s the weed?” Tess speaks up suddenly. I stare at her for a moment before pointing wordlessly to the wall. She moves over to it, re-opens the hole I made, and produces the telltale baggie. She holds it up, shaking it for a moment against the light, studying it closely, before pressing it into her pocket.

“You don’t want to get caught with that stuff on you, either,” Max points out worriedly, glancing at her pocket, which also gives him an excuse to glance at her ass.

Tess shrugs. “Who’s gonna catch me?” she sniffs. “Even my alien dad is gone. Not that he would care one way or the other. I’ll destroy it when I get home.” She passes her hand effortlessly over the hole, and it’s like the wall was never disturbed.

“Good,” I say authoritatively. “I don’t know why I’m even bothering to protect this kid, anyway. I want that stuff where he has no chance of ever seeing it again.”

“You can’t save him from himself if he’s hellbent on hurting himself, no matter how close you two are,” Max points out. His eyes flit up to me. “Believe me.” I have a sudden sneaking suspicion he’s speaking from experience here, and I have a sudden uncomfortable feeling that he’s referring to me somehow. I try to brush it off.

“Oh, he’s hellbent for sure,” I mutter. “How can humans be so stupid? It’s not like he’s even got some crap excuse like love or whatever other bullshit. It’s a dumbass chemical.” Love…

“It’s what makes him feel better,” Tess points out.

“I know all about that,” I spit back. “Believe me. It’s just that I don’t get it. Nate’s not dumb like Hank.”

I don’t have anything else to say, and neither does anyone else. We sit there in silence for a long moment, these words hanging heavily in the air.

“You can’t save Nate from himself any more than you could have saved Hank,” Max says slowly at last. “None of it’s your fault, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah?” I ask. “So why does it always happen to me?”

“It doesn’t,” Isabel says, almost convincingly. “Nate had problems before you ever came into his life, right? And Hank… Hank was just Hank. You had nothing to do with it. His problems weren’t because of you.”

“Right,” I say, still not convinced. She wasn’t there. She didn’t see how much I refused to listen to Hank, how I wasn’t what he wanted or needed…

“Just look at this screwed-up system you’re in,” Tess points out. “People get thrown together and have to pretend they’re families, and they’ve got problems to begin with. It’s no wonder you keep winding up with humans having problems. It’s the system. It’s not you, Michael.”

“How could it be you?” Isabel adds, nodding in agreement. I shrug, turning away from all of them.

“If something goes down tonight, it will be my fault,” I say. “I knew that Dashawn turned the guys in, and I told Jordan that. I think something’s gonna happen.”

“No, it’s not,” Tess says.

I turn back around and squint at her. “What do you mean?”

She merely levels her gaze at me. “It’s not ,” she says clearly, and all of a sudden I have an image of FBI agents bumbling around downtown Roswell talking to invisible people, and I realize at once what she’s done.

“Don’t screw up my housemates,” I tell her accusingly.

“I won’t,” Tess says innocently. “But nobody’s having any aggressive thoughts now, anyway.”

“How did you do that?” Isabel asks, worried.

Tess smiles mysteriously. “I’ll show you all later.” She leans against the wall. “You gotta use what you have on your side,” she points out.” She then leans forward, standing upright again. “So are we done here?”

“Guess so,” I say, still staring at her in amazement.

“Good.” She gestures at the take-out box on my dresser. “Michael, enjoy. Share them with the other guys if you want.” She moves towards the door, then realizes that Max and Isabel aren’t moving. “Guys? You coming?”

“You go ahead,” Max says clearly. “We’re gonna stay here just a minute.”

Tess glances at them worriedly, realizing that we’re blowing her off, then tilts her chin up and waltzes out of the room.

“It’s not your fault,” Max says again as soon as she’s gone. His dark eyes are focused on me strongly, making me grab for the dresser to steady myself. “If you don’t believe anything else I ever said to you in my life, believe that. There is nothing about you, nothing you have done that keeps bringing these problems into your life.”

“Sure,” I say, trying to convince myself that he’s right.

“He’s right,” Isabel chimes in. “Nate has to make his own decisions for his own life. Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

I shrug. “He’s not too far gone yet, I guess. Maybe he’ll turn around in time.”

“Keep an eye on him on your vacation,” Max says, rising from the bed. “And take care of yourself, too.”

I nod my head evenly, as Isabel stands next to him. Max extends his hand and I take it carefully, before allowing him to embrace me. Isabel moves beside us, to take the both of us into her arms, and somewhere outside, I hear the distant sound of Tess’s SUV starting up.

The three of us pull away, as if embarrassed to be caught like this. “Michael, just leave,” Isabel bursts out, passionately. “God. Why do you have to pick now, of all times, to be so stubbornly human? After years of not caring about anybody or anything, now you suddenly won’t get yourself out of this situation because all of a sudden you care? I mean, do you even realize how impossible you are to deal with sometimes?”

I open my mouth to say something, but Max cuts me off. “Isabel, settle down. We’ve all been through a lot lately, but Michael more than the rest of us.” I clamp my jaw shut, surprised. “For what it’s worth, Michael, I’m proud of you.”

I snort to try and cover my sudden embarrassment. “Well, I do live for your praise, Maxwell,” I say sarcastically, but then I wonder how sarcastic that really is.

There’s a knock on the door. “Hey, Michael?”

“Yeah?” I ask, with dread, as Gene pokes his head into the room.

“That chick is on the phone for you again.”

I try to ignore the interested looks on Isabel and Max’s faces. “Well, tell her I’ll call her back.”

Gene’s eyes widen a little. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah, why?”

He looks strangely afraid. “Um, okay, I’ll tell her,” he says, before starting back down the hallway.

“Good luck with that one,” Max says as he and Isabel start for the door.

I lean against the door as it closes. Luck. Luck is no longer what I need. I need something more than luck. I need a lot more than luck. I need to start taking things back into my hands.

Because goddammit, some things just are my fault.

Chapter 104

I close my eyes and make a final, desperate wish before pushing the door open. And of course it has to jangle loudly as I open it, alerting everybody in a half-mile radius to my presence. Just what I wanted right now.

She’s leaning over a display of alien-headed bubble pens, meticulously sorting the green ones from the pink ones. In a skirt that really highlights the curve of her tiny ass. I glance over at the cash register and notice that it’s unattended. In fact, we’re the only people in the store. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.

She glances up after a moment, and covers for her brief surprise nicely. “Hey there,” she greets me casually, glancing away quickly.

I walk slowly up the length of the store towards her. “I’m leaving in a couple of hours,” I say. I lick my lips as I study her trim figure.

She brushes aside a strand of long, untidy hair that’s fallen from her barrette. “You came to say goodbye?” she asks, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Yeah,” I say, approaching. I swallow just a little. “Look…”

She folds her arms nervously, preparing a defense for whatever’s going to come out of my mouth. But I still see the anticipation in her eyes, and it kills me.

I can’t help it, I can’t control myself, alone in a store with her. With Maria. I reach forward and brush her arm automatically, and she and I both jump at the electric spark of the contact. “You know why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, you have a destiny and all that crap,” she says, her eyes fixed on the point of contact between us. It seems to be growing warmer to the touch, an unbearably comfortable and inviting feeling.

“No,” I say. “It is that. But… I can’t take my mind off you, Maria. I think about you all the time. I miss you. I… I want you.” I can’t believe the words are coming from my mouth.

She glances up at me, questioning, her eyes glistening. “You know I… felt… really strongly for you, too,” she says. “I never got the chance to say it, but…”

“I know,” I say. This is absolutely killing me. And finally, unable to keep my body from doing what I don’t want it to do, my hands reach out and pull her to me. She gasps in surprise, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to resist, but before I know it, our lips are locked in a tight, moist, passionate kiss. The last month’s worth of tension floods out of me, my head soars through the roof, and I’m not sure if I wish this was just a dream or not.

It’s definitely not. I take a step back and we glance at each other, breathless.

“This kind of thing doesn’t just go away,” she says, her voice trembling. “You can’t just cut it out of your life, pretend it never existed, no matter what you want to be true.”

“Yeah, I know that,” I say, and my voice sounds husky even to me. “I know that now.”

A tear drops out of her eye now, and I gently bend forward to brush it with my finger. I hold my finger up, studying the glistening salt water from Maria’s eye…

“This isn’t easy for me,” I remind her. “Hell, Maria, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

She folds her arms, still a little defensive against me. “Then… what are you saying?”

I glance at the flowing golden hair I still haven’t allowed myself to touch, then over her shoulder at the giant plastic alien with the belly full of lollipops behind her. “I don’t know,” I murmur, shaking my head and glancing down at my shoes.

Desperately, she moves back in to me, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my chest, pulling in to me, seeking and searching. Our mouths meet again, and this time my eyes sink closed, enjoying the missed feeling of having Maria moving under me.

My mouth leaves hers and bends over to her neck, pulling her up to me. “Does this mean we can’t do the just-friends thing?” she whispers in my ear.

“I don’t think you and I could ever be just friends,” I point out in between licks.

She gives a small giggle, her breath brushing my ear as she does. “This, this is definitely not just friends,” she points out.

I’ve completely lost control. I nudge her up against the sales counter, and she squirms beneath me. Oh, god… My mouth finds hers again just as the door jangles, and immediately we snap apart like a broken rubber band, Maria whirling around behind the counter and me trying to act innocent by the book display.

The interfering customer seems completely oblivious to what he’s just wandered in on, and begins to idly poke around the store as Maria and I avoid eye contact. I grab for the first book I see, a pulp bastardization of the UFO crash, and flip through it idly, the words spinning before my eyes.

Damn. Damn . What am I doing here? I knew I shouldn’t have come. It’s these warring factions within me. The ‘Follow your destiny and be the soldier you’re supposed to be’ camp, and the ‘Fuck it all, just go to Maria already’ camp. And somehow, the second one’s winning at the moment.

I turn around slightly, feeling the heat of her gaze on me, and sure enough, her head is tucked down and she’s staring up at me, her jaw hanging half-open. My eyes shoot back down to the book in my hands, embarrassed.

The customer wanders out, evidently satisfied with what he saw, and I toss the book back at the display and dart around the counter, finding myself comfortably in her arms again. I fix my hands solidly on her back, and they slowly begin to work their way down as we move in, feeling each others’ warmth.

This time, though, our foreheads touch as I bend down, but we don’t move any closer, staring at each others’ faces, eying each others’ mouths, taking in the pleasure of just being so close to each other. Each other.

“What made you come here?” Maria asks in a slightly whiny voice. “Why now? I mean, you’re leaving today and we’re not going to see each other for two weeks…”

“Nine days,” I correct her. “It’s just nine days.” Her breath smells minty. Nine days too long…

“Okay,” she concedes. “But then what’s gonna happen when you get back? Where are we? What are we? Fill me in here, I’m lost.”

I lick my lips. For some reason, it’s so much easier to be open when I know I don’t have to see her tomorrow. The same reason that I think I finally admitted I loved her when I knew we didn’t have a tomorrow…

“Why do you have to put a label on it?” I whisper. “Can’t we just… you know… just be us?”

Maria sighs. “I’ll even take you when you’re being a chauvinistic bastard,” she confesses.

“Hey, what’s that s’posed to mean?”

Her eyes widen as she stares over my shoulder. “Oh, god. Oh, god. It’s my mom. Quick, get down!” She reaches up to grab my shoulder, and shoves me down. I collapse at her feet, crawling hastily into position under the cash register.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, after she caught you in my room in the morning, and then I spent the last month crying over you to her, she really isn’t gonna be happy to see you in the store,” Maria informs me.

“You cried over me for a whole month?” I ask as I settle into place, not sure whether to be flattered or scared.

“Hush! Mom! Hi!”

From this position, it becomes brutally clear to me that Maria’s dressed for the summer desert heat in nothing but a sundress and flip-flops, and I’ve suddenly got a birds-eye view of the majority of her legs. I lick my lips, my heart pounding.

“Hi, honey! Everything okay around here?” Amy DeLuca’s voice wafts through the store.

“Fine! It’s fine, mom, absolutely great,” Maria says, nodding eagerly. One foot slips out of the flip-flop and reaches up to scratch her leg innocently with her big toe. Her nails are painted a deep, blood red. I feel my breath coming faster. This is too much for me.

“Any sales?”

“Oh, yeah, we had some families in here earlier, they just about cleaned us out of those, um, alien gooze ball thingies.”

“No problem, we’ve got more back in the storeroom. Hey, listen, my meeting with the candy distributors got cancelled, well, postponed, cause Rocky has food poisoning, so I’m freed up for the afternoon. Want to take off? I’ll handle the store.”

I gulp reflexively.

“No, Mom, I’m fine,” Maria says. “You go… take a break. I’m just enjoying the air conditioning.”

There are so many things I’m tempted to do right now, and not a one of them is at all appropriate or respectable. I lick my lips apprehensively.

“Maria,” Amy says, a disapproving tone setting in. “I know Liz is in Florida, but you have other friends and sooner or later you’ve got to stop moping and get out of the house. Where has Alex been all summer, anyway?”

“Um, Alex has other plans today, Mom,” Maria says nervously. “I’ll find him later. Really, I’m fine. I mean, you know, maybe the man of my dreams will walk through that door today or something.” She forces a barked laugh as she pokes my knee with her toe. I close my eyes tightly to prevent the forthcoming reaction.

Amy laughs too, in response. “Oh, Maria. I’ve been telling myself that for years .” She sighs. “Still, you’re young. Who knows? All right, then, honey, if it gets too hot in here call Jody and complain about the air conditioner again. You know where the number is, right?”

“Yes, Mom, now get out of here!” Maria says pointedly.

“Bye, then,” Amy calls out as the door jangles.

“Goodbye, Mom,” Maria says, satisfied, and then crouches down to my level at last.

By this point, I have very little verbal capability left from the extended viewing of her legs. “If it gets too hot in here?” I manage to ask. “I think it might just be too late for that.”

Maria smirks a little as she settles down on the floor beside me. “Well, we’ve got a month of being apart to work through in just a few minutes, and it’s got to last us for the next nine days.” 

I reach over to run my hand up her calf, and her flesh shivers beneath my touch. I draw back.

“What made you come here?” she asks, tilting her chin down. “Seriously. You never told me.”

“I came here to say goodbye,” I say seriously. “But…” But I didn’t mean to suddenly be hiding here on the floor with you, out of sight of everyone else, heat exploding between us like this. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve just been thinking lately… about being alone, and not being alone. And that I know, now, I don’t have to be alone, not all the time.”

I lean over and take her hand between mine, which makes her gaze shoot up straight into mine. Maria and I have never really done the hand-holding thing, for everything else we’ve done.

“I still have my destiny,” I remind her seriously. “I’m not going to be here forever. I’ve got other things going on. I’m not a normal guy, I’m never going to be a normal guy.”

She relaxes. “If I wanted normal, remind me again why I’d have gone out with an alien?”

I lick my lips and decide to go for broke. “Because he was a really sexy alien?” I guess, and she grins.

“That he was,” she says, much to the satisfaction of my ego, and then she places her free hand on top of where we’re joined. “So… if you’re talking ‘forever’, or lack thereof, just be straight with me, are you going to acknowledge me in public or not?”

I glance away painfully. “I can’t get through this without you,” I say to the formica floor tiles. “I need you, Maria. I’m a different person without you.” I pause. “But I’m dangerous, with or without you. You know that.”

“No, no,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t buy that. You saved Sheriff Valenti’s life, what you did that day at the museum. You’re a hero.”

“I’m a killer,” I say, feeling the glistening sweat breaking out on my forehead in the climbing temperature inside the store. “I’m not safe to be around. I’m afraid…” I swallow. “I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. I have hurt you.”

“Look,” she says, squeezing my hands. “It hurts worse to be separated from you. I’ll take my chances. Let me decide what’s safe for me.”

“Right,” I say. “Of course.” I pull one hand away from hers to scratch my eyebrow. “I’m not safe at all. You know that.”

“But I trust you,” she says. “Even when you’re being a jackass, you’re still a good person deep down, Michael. You’ve never done anything to convince me otherwise.”

“How about stealing your car?”

“No, you knew I got over that.”

“Not leaving my foster sister in the car alone and losing her?”

“Nope.”

“What about… ditching you at that party at the fireworks factory that one time?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Or,” I snap my fingers. “Dragging you to Buckley Point against your will?”

“Michael,” Maria says patiently, rubbing my arm up and down. It feels good to have her touching me again. “I meant what I said. You’re not perfect. Nobody is. But if you really love me, I’ll put up with the rest of it.”

“I do,” I say without thinking. “I didn’t want to say it… but I do.” I glance back up at her, questioning.

She leans over and our lips brush together gently, exploring.

I pull back slightly. “I saw you and Nate together,” I say. “And it really pissed me off. I couldn’t handle the fact that he got to be around you and I couldn’t.”

“It was your own damn fault, spaceboy.”

“I know,” I say, grinning a little at the pang of hearing the nickname again. “But I want to be the one around you.”

Her finger brushes the back of my hand, rubbing gently. I want to freeze this moment in time. For just a second, alone, sequestered behind the cash register, our bodies gently touching, everything is perfect. I don’t want to go meet the Butlers to go to the airport; hell, I don’t want to even stand up right now. I want to be here forever, I want to capture this moment in time, because time changes, time is inconsistent, time never does what you want it to do…

I swallow, hard. “I have to go,” I say reluctantly, glancing up at the clock over the register.

Maria sighs. “Of course you do,” she says, the disappointment evident in her voice, watching me as I brush the dust from my pants and rise to my feet.

I reach over, offering my hand to her, and she accepts, letting me pull her up. I glance out of habit at the window, checking to make sure no one’s watching, before wrapping my arms around her for one last goodbye kiss. Her hands clutch the skin at my back, her fingers digging in tightly, pulling us even closer together.

“That one’s for the road,” she says ruefully as we break apart.

I nod seriously. “I think it’ll last me,” I say, not really meaning it.

“I don’t want you to go,” she whispers.

“I’ll call you when we get there,” I say impulsively.

This appeases her just a little. “You promise?” she asks.

“I really need to go now,” I say, eying the bottom of her sundress.

“So go,” she says, leaning in a little closer.

We’re interrupted by a jangle at the door again, and I leap back, taking another step backwards as I recognize the tall figure coming through it, clad in a UFO Center employee vest.

“Max! Hi!” Maria says, her voice sounding a little over-excited. But then, I guess that’s my influence.

I back up, my eyes still fixed soundly on Maria. “We’ll talk,” I say, before heading for the door. I don’t look back as I walk towards the exit, though I feel her watching me, her eyes digging in harshly.

“Hey there,” Max says, wiping sweat from his brow, as I stop in front of him. He lowers his voice, glancing over my shoulder at Maria. “Um… anything going on I should know about?” he asks in a whisper.

I think it over for a moment. “No,” I say honestly. “Hey, listen, I’m about to head to the airport with the Butlers and all. So have a good few days. I’ll be back a week from Monday.”

“Right,” he says with a nod. “How about you drop me some postcards or something, you world traveler, you?”

I force a smile. “I’ll do that.”

“And be careful,” he says, although that goes without saying.

I nod. “I’ll check in with Nasedo when we’re in DC,” I promise. “See if I can squeeze any information out of him on his progress.”

“Good. Let me know what happens with that.” Max glances over my shoulder at Maria. “Um… Michael?”

“Yes, Maxwell?”

“Are you sure I didn’t just interrupt something here?”

“Naw, we were done,” I assure him.

His eyebrows shoot up at that. “You’re…?” The questions are written all over his face.

I shake my head. “Don’t. Ask.”

He shrugs, apparently realizing he’s not getting more than that out of me. If he really feels like it, he can get it out of Maria. “And Michael, don’t forget to have fun.”

I have to smile at that, and this time it’s not forced. “I will.”

With that I push past him and force my way out of the store, back into the eleven a.m. heat of Roswell, New Mexico. But for once, it doesn’t feel oppressing. Instead, it feels fulfilling. Welcoming. Reassuring. I set off at a brisk pace towards Tilden Street to grab my travel bag and become a Butler once more, if even just for a few short days.

Chapter 105

As the plane lifts into the air, my heart lurches in my chest.

For the first time in this life, there’s nothing grounding my body to the planet Earth. I lean back in my seat, forced back by the pressure from our high speed, and as the plane tilts to the side, I feel fearful for just a moment. And then it’s gone, and I feel a rush of pure joy.

“Oshitoshitoshitoshit…” I glance over at my seat partner, whose eyes are squeezed tightly closed, his breath coming in short bursts. He’s about to hyperventilate.

“Nate,” I hiss at him. “Nate, relax already. We got a long trip ahead, and you’re gonna kill yourself, you keep freaking out like that.”

He squints his eyes open a crack to look at me, then look out the window to his side, before closing his eyes tight again. His mouth resumes the chant, but silently this time. I knew I should have taken the window seat. I roll my eyes and twist around in my seat.

Annie’s eyes, on the other hand, are wide open. “This is awesome!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat against her seatbelt, as she catches me peering around. I yawn, popping my ears in a satisfactory way.

I look at Veronica, in the window seat directly behind Nate, and she’s hiding a small smile as she glances back and forth between the two of us. Toby is already in Washington, DC, where we’re going to meet him in a few days. Which leaves Veronica supervising three sullen teenagers for the better part of the week. I can’t believe that not only did she agree to it, but that it seems to have been her idea. And for what it’s worth, I already feel much more at ease in Toby’s absence.

“If Nate doesn’t make it, can we sell his return ticket and buy me a used car?” I ask politely.

“You’re… not… helping,” Nate mutters through clenched teeth. Then he bolts forward in his seat, grabbing for the paper bag tucked in front of him, and I turn around completely to face Annie, not particularly wanting to see Nate’s lunch a second time today.

“Veronica said they bring drinks to your seat,” Annie informs me eagerly. “I want to drink a Coke on the plane.”

I glance out of habit at my bookbag, stowed under the seat in front of me. I tucked a couple bottles of Tabasco in there, just for traveling. Maybe I can do a little drink mixing. That’d be nice.

I hear the inevitable sound of Nate retching beside me. Veronica leans forward as the plane tilts to the side and I see Nate shiver out of fear as I turn back in my seat. “Nathan? Are you all right?” she asks.

“Does he look like he’s all right?” I ask her, astounded, then clamp my mouth shut. “Nate, you all right, man?” I ask meekly.

He gags once more and I twist around in my seat to where the flight attendant is glancing in our direction from the jumpseat in the rear of the plane. “Hey, can we get some water over here, quick?” I ask.

The flight attendant peers around and catches sight of Nate as he flops back in his seat, thoroughly exhausted. She holds up a finger, instructing me to wait. “We need to get a little more altitude before I can move around,” she calls apologetically.

I lean over to Nate, who’s turned a pale shade of gray and is clutching the bag filled with what used to be his lunch in his hands. “You want some air?” I ask him hesitantly.

“No,” he says in a high, strained voice. “I want the air to stay on the outside of the plane, thank you.”

“I meant the fan,” I say, and he nods, apparently unable to talk. I lean over and hit the fan button, aiming the nozzle at him, and he closes his eyes. After a moment, a little color comes back to his face. “I got some Tabasco if you want that before the flight attendant gets here,” I say.

Nate wrinkles his nose at me. “You’re weird,” he says, but a little more color seeps back into his cheeks. “Veronica?” he asks weakly, tilting his head up to try and aim his voice over the seat.

“What?” she asks, leaning forward again.

“I – I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to go on this trip after all.”

I have to crack a grin as Veronica shoots back with, “Sure, I’ll have the pilot turn this thing around and drop you in Albuquerque, then.”

“That’d be great,” Nate says weakly.

“Nate, don’t-“

“He’s kidding, Annie,” I inform her, silencing her protest.

“Oh,” Annie says, and pauses. “Can I have a Coke yet?”

I lean over Nate’s pale, gasping form to catch a view out the window. The golden desert beneath us is growing farther and farther away, turning into a landscape of desert and civilization. I wonder how much the view has changed since my space ship crash landed in the desert so long ago. Is this what Nasedo saw? When Liz and Max were having flashes, he said she saw the ship crash. Is this what it looked like?

I wonder what kind of battles I fought in during my previous life. Clearly we had some kind of flight, since it got us all the way from Antar to Earth. Maybe I controlled machines that went in the air like this. Swooping around, firing on the enemy, blasting them to smithereens. It’s a cool thought. Maybe I was blasted to smithereens myself in midair. That’s not a cool thought. If I keep thinking like that, I’m going to end up like…

Nate sits up abruptly again, reaching for his vomit-filled bag. I draw back, to get out of the way, and then on second thought reach for my own bag and pass it to him, trying not to look because if I do I’m definitely gonna start feeling ill myself. I reach for the book Anthony loaned me and start flipping through. It’s gonna be a long flight, but in the end, it’ll all be worth it.

*

“Dude, I am starving,” Nate says, punctuating his words with a roar of his stomach.

Veronica casts a glance at Annie, sound asleep on the bed and snoring. “Nice timing, Westing,” I inform him helpfully.

After a quick layover and a second flight, we’re finally at the hotel of the first stop of our whirlwind tour. I’m a little weirded out that we’re all in one big room, a queen-sized bed for me and Nate to share, but we’ve already fixed that by choosing to alternate nights on the half-sized couch. I personally think Nate should just suck it up and take the couch full-time given his smaller size, but he disagreed and I wasn’t about to fight him on it given the state of his health today.

“Michael and I could go out and poke around on our own,” Nate suggests, ignoring Veronica’s increasingly horrified expression. “We’ll stick together.”

“I don’t think that’s-“

“It’s fine,” I say abruptly, leaping to my feet. “We can bring back food for you and Annie, that way she can sleep later before we go to the show tonight.”

Veronica glances back and forth between us doubtfully. I know what’s on the tip of her tongue – we’re just barely back together again and she’s far from holding any degree of trust for the team of Guerin and Westing right now.

“Nate needs to eat,” I point out, “since he upchucked all his food on two different flights today and all. Maybe we can pop by the drugstore and pick him up some Dramamine for the train ride the day after tomorrow, too.”

Nate glowers at me, but remains silent, apparently recognizing the strength of my stellar argument.

Veronica sighs. “Fine,” she consents, clearly against her better instincts. She digs in her purse and pulls out a twenty. “There’s a place right across the street, go get some pizza. Bring it straight back, okay?”

We exchange a glance as I reach for the room key on the table. “Absolutely,” Nate promises. “Aye-aye, captain.”

She smiles at him and reaches out instinctively to ruffle his hair a little. Nate leaps back, scowling. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Veronica says. “Couldn’t help it.” She winks at me and I put my hand to my mouth, trying to conceal my grin from Nate’s annoyed eyes.

As the elevator plummets to the ground floor, I stand on the glass side watching the stories shoot up around us. Nate stands by the door, his eyes closed, quietly trying not to notice the change in altitude. Level after level whizzes by, until finally the elevator comes to a rest on the ground floor.

We step out into the black marble entryway and I glance around, getting my bearings to keep us from getting lost. I lead Nate around the corner and towards the pizza restaurant Veronica was referring to.

“I don’t think we’re in Roswell anymore, Toto,” he says, amazed, glancing around at the crowds and heights.

“Would you quit that? You’re gonna look like a goddamn tourist.”

“Uh, newsflash, Worf…”

I glare at him, not appreciating the new choice of nickname. I kind of liked the Toto one better. Though, when I think about it, Worf’s not a half-bad analogy. “Just try and act inconspicuous, would you?”

“Excuse me for actually wanting to remember the fact that I was here.”

“Oh, this is definitely something I’m not going to forget,” I say with grim satisfaction. I glance back up at our hotel, towering above us, and am amazed that nearly every other building on the square is just as tall.

“Wanna go in the record store?” Nate asks, drooling as he glances over across the street.

I have to admit feeling a slight twinge of desire. “Veronica told us to come straight back,” I remind him. I’ve got a bad feeling about this…

“Yeah, so? You’re the one who disappeared for a whole weekend.”

“Pizza,” I say firmly, dragging his ass towards the restaurant. “Now.”

Nate scratches his head as we wait in the line snaking around the room. “Damn. I almost forgot. I gotta call Shelly, I told her I’d let her know we got here okay.”

“Oh,” I say, as it suddenly hits me. “I gotta do that, too.” Then I realize I shouldn’t have said that.

Nate frowns at me. “Call Shelly?” he asks, and then it dawns on him. “You didn’t tell me you’ve got a girl again.”

“I don’t,” I say automatically, and then my jaw clamps shut as I study the fascinating eggplant parmesan sitting in front of me.

It’s too late, and Nate’s on the prowl. “What do you mean you gotta do that, too? Call Tess or something?”

“No, not Tess,” I say, and then realize that once again I’ve said the wrong thing. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

He perks up. “Not Tess, and not Isabel…” Nate’s eyes light up. “Man! You’re not luring that Vivian chick away from Gene, are you? Cause that would rock…”

“Not Viv,” I say, thoroughly annoyed. “I don’t need Gene’s sloppy seconds.”

“One slice of pepperoni, one supreme, and one cheese,” Nate rattles off to the guy behind the counter. It occurs to me briefly that Veronica never told him what kind of pizza to get for herself and for Annie. He just knows. “Michael, what do you want?”

“Supreme,” I say absently.

“You and me both. So not Tess, not Isabel, not Viv… you know I’m going to keep at you on this one. If nothing else, we’re sharing a hotel room, I’m gonna know when you call her. Ooooh!” he exclaims suddenly. “I know who it is!”’

“What?” I ask, a little dismayed at myself for actually wanting to hear his guess.

“That girl at the Crashdown, she’s all in to you.”

“Kelly?” I ask, knowing full well that she’s completely in to her twenty-six year old cradle-robbing boyfriend.

“Naw, not her. That new girl.”

“Courtney?” I press on, amazed.

“Yeah, that’s the one. She wants you.”

I shudder at the thought. “Me and Maria got back together, dumbass.”

His jaw drops and his eyebrows shoot through the roof. “And when did this happen?”

“This morning,” I mutter, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I went to say goodbye, and, you know, one thing led to another…”

“So is this, like, for good, or just another chapter in the never-ending Mork and Mindy saga?”

As always, I scowl at the moniker. “I don’t know. It’s not for good, but she knows that now. I just wanted to make sure she was clear on that.”

Nate coughs, trying to cover his guffaw. “Um, yeah. ‘Oh, Nate,’” he moans, pitching his voice up. I scowl. Maria’s voice doesn’t sound anything like that. “’Michael is such a dick, you’ll never believe what he said to me on the phone today. He said he missed me. Why now? What does he mean by that? What kind of jerk just up and says he misses me? What the hell’s wrong with him?’” He switches back to his normal voice. “At this point, I don’t think she’s clear on much of anything.”

“She really said that?” I ask uncomfortably as he hands the money over to the cashier. I lean around him to pick up the bags.

“Something along those lines, yeah,” he confirms. He shoves the change in his pocket. “C’mon, let’s get back to the hotel.” I follow him back onto the street.

“I guess I’m gonna have to… talk to her,” I say slowly, thinking out loud as we approach the hotel. I wince as the words come out. “That’s never a good idea with us.”

“What, talking?” Nate asks with a laugh, and I nod.

“I’m better at other stuff,” I shrug.

“Okay,” he says immediately. “Don’t want to know.”

“Well, now, look, I think we’ve had plenty of stuff from you that I didn’t want to know about,” I say as we turn in to the alley that leads to the elevator bank.

Nate looks like he’s about to protest, but he doesn’t get the chance, because neither one of us knows what happens next. I feel a sharp pain at the back of my head and, as I turn, I briefly catch sight of Nate’s stunned, fearful expression, fading away into darkness.

Chapter 106

I smell pizza.

I pry my eyes open, fighting off gravity and extremely ferocious pain, and see, crouching in the darkness, a figure munching away on a slice of Sbarro’s supreme.

“Hey, asshole, that was supposed to be my-“ I start to say, and then my voice trails off as he glances up at me, his chewing abruptly coming to a halt. “Max?”

“Max?” he echoes, confused.

“Not Max,” I say, taking stock of the situation. I squint at him. This guy has longer hair, a beard… My head still hurts. Thinking makes it hurt worse. “Then-?”

“I was more wonderin’,” Not-Max says as he straightens up, “who you was.”

It takes me a moment to decipher this and process the grammar of it. I glance around, taking stock of our surroundings. I’m not tied by anything. I’m not trapped here. I’m still free to move on my own accord, more or less.

‘Here’ seems to be a small storage room of sorts. There’s crates of dry goods stacked in the corner, shrink-wrapped for maximum effectiveness. Nate is sitting next to me, and he’s not quite so lucky. He’s wide awake, his hands trapped behind his back, his legs bound in front of him, his mouth gagged. His eyes regard me with a mixture of relief and panic. I try not to glance back with too much alarm, but it’s hard. Are we captives? Why is Nate tied up and not me?

What’s going on here? I remember being assaulted as we were heading in to the Marriott Marquis hotel, but beyond that… and now, Max has a beard? No, it’s Not-Max.

“What time is it?” I ask, as a feeling of dread begins to grow. Once again, Westing and Guerin have gone missing and logic would lead to the conclusion that this is again alien-related… I see any chance of normalcy on this trip slipping quickly away from my grasp.

“Where you from?” Not-Max presses me, wiping his greasy hands on his shirt as he rises to a standing position to glower at me.

“New Mexico,” I say after a moment of hesitation.

He nods, taking this in. “Thought so. You’s from the Roswell Four, then.”

“Just a Roswell One, at the moment,” I say. I blink at him. “I don’t get it.”

Not-Max glances disparagingly at Nate, whose eyes are widening more with every passing word. “You’s alien, yeah?”

“Um,” I say, studying him up and down. “I guess it’s safe to assume that you’s alien, too?”

He scoffs at my failed attempt at his vernacular.

“Okay, yes, obvious, I agree,” I mutter under my breath. “Then, yeah. Alien as Mister Spock here. Now who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Zan,” he says, relaxing a little. “And you’d be Rath.”

Rath. The word stirs something inside me, an ancient memory somewhere. I try to keep my composure as image I don’t recognize swirl in my head.

“Michael,” I correct him. “They call me Michael. I don’t know who Rath is.”

“Rath is me,” a voice comes from behind me, and I see Nate slowly lifting himself up to turn around and register what he’s hearing, what I’m hearing, what I can’t possibly believe.

Standing in the corner behind us is possibly the most fucked-up version I’ve ever seen of… of… myself.

Nate, now fully engaged, is squealing something muffled under his gag. It’s almost a relief to not have him interrupting this conversation, though. We all pointedly ignore him and continue as if he wasn’t there. A welcome change indeed.

“Who’s the midget human squeeze-toy?” Rath asks, pointing accusingly at Nate, and I have to admit that his squeals do sound somewhat like a dog’s plaything. “Do we toss him now or later?”

“You’re not tossing anybody,” I say, pulling myself to my feet to be on the same level with Not-Max… er, Zan, and Rath. “The kid stays. And you’re gonna fill me in right now on what the hell is going on.”

“You didn’t know we was out here, did ya?” Rath smirks. “We know your protector abandoned you and all.”

“You, you’re me,” I say, and Nate rolls his eyes in silent commentary on the obviousness of my statement. “And you look just like Max… you boys are aliens, too?”

“The man said,” Rath says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, walking around to stand beside Zan’s side.

I relax a little, relieved. “We didn’t know…” The implications of this suddenly hit me. “How do I know you’re not something else? Shapeshifters?”

“You so paranoid, you scan me,” Rath says, stepping forward so that he’s only inches away from me, spreading his hands out.

“I can’t do that,” I say hesitantly.

He smirks at me. Is the son of a bitch laughing at me? It strikes at something,a distant memory, but I can’t quite place it. From this short of a distance, I can see just how much we resemble each other. Same height, same build, only this guy’s hair is standing almost straight up and he’s got more piercings than a punk rock star. Including one really distasteful one in his nose. So that’s what I’d look like as a bull.

“Then you’s just gonna have to take our word for it, huh, Roswell?” Rath asks.

I stiffen up. “Where are the girls?” I demand.

Zan shrugs. “Those two, who ever knows?”

Two. So they have a Tess and an Isabel, too. I glance down at Nate, whose eyes have narrowed to slits as he regards the dank and dingy room. Redundency. Of course. Why risk the future of your planet on four kids when you could make eight? Question is, what exactly does that make me?

“Look,” I say suddenly. “Nice to meet you boys and all, but me and the kid here have got to get going. We got some obligations.”

“Obligations,” Zan repeats, staring at me.

“Yeah, obligations,” I reply, annoyed. “So if you’ll just kindly direct us back to Times Square, we’ll be on our merry way.” Nate’s eyes finally take on a hopeful expression, his eyebrows rise as he glances back and forth between me and the other aliens.

“Not so fast,” Zan says as Rath steps back. “We got some catchin’ up to do, yo.”

“I’ll be happy to look you gentlemen up later, come back late tonight, whatever,” I say seriously. “But look, we’re gonna have some serious answering to do if we don’t get back to our hotel fast. We’re not alone.”

“Who’s the kid?” Rath demands.

Nate glances at me nervously. I see the fear in his eyes.

“He’s…” I pause. How do I explain Nate? A former foster brother who I now share a group home and a family vacation with? “My brother,” I finally finish.

“Aw, no,” Rath groans. “You got that family shit goin’ on? Yo, you gots more important shit to worry about. Don’t be wastin’ your time with no humans.”

Nate’s eyebrows furrow downward at that and I hear a vehement issue of protest from behind his gag.

“He’s my brother,” I say firmly, “and we’re going to be in some serious trouble if we don’t get back up to our hotel room with that pizza pronto.” I look with dismay at the remains of our Sbarro’s order. Rath and Zan have devoured both the supreme slices. All that’s left is Veronica and Annie’s food.

“You gonna be in serious trouble if you diss us, my friend,” Zan says darkly. “I want to talk. Me and you.” I notice Rath rolling his eyes at that and turning away slightly, and I wonder just how much of myself and Max is in these two guys. Apparently it goes beyond the surface.

“I’ll talk,” I say firmly. “I got no problems talking. It’s this whole kidnapping thing I’m not real cool with.”

“You promise you’ll talk?”

“Yeah, yeah.” If anything, I at least want to hear the rest of their story.

“Give me your room number and a time when I’m gonna come find you tonight.”

Nate squeals again, but at this point, the aliens are ignoring him. All three of us, myself included. “Room 1534, three-thirty a.m.,” I say with a sigh. “And keep it down, man, our chaperone doesn’t know about the alien thing.”

“Did the kid know?” Rath interrupts, leaning closer to Nate. “Or do we get to kill him now?” Nate keeps a remarkably level gaze.

“Don’t kill him,” I say reluctantly, against my better judgment. “It’s fine, he knew already. He’s good.”

“Hands off, Rath,” Zan says dismissively.

A low-pitched growl comes from Nate’s throat, and I glance over to see Rath flicking his fingers at Nate tantalizingly.

“He said cut it out,” I snap, and Rath yanks his hands back with a smirk. “Do you assholes have family? What’s your story?”

“We gots ourselves,” Rath says. “We are our own family.”

“Three-thirty,” Zan says. He glances over at Rath. “Just you and me, Michael.”

“Yo,” Rath starts to protest, but Zan holds up a hand and Rath shuts up instantly, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

“Untie the midget brother and show them the way back,” Zan commands Rath. If Max ever addressed me in that tone I’d probably smack the crap out of him, and Rath looks like he’s about to do the same. Instead, he steels himself and turns to start untying Nate.

Zan and I watch as he starts with the legs. Nate glances at me, imploring, but I don’t want to get anywhere close to Rath right now. Nate grunts sharply and I glance away. I wait patiently as Rath unties Nate’s hands, which fly up to yank the gag out of his mouth.

“About damn time!” Nate bellows as soon as it’s out. “Jesus Christ, Michael, you couldn’t have seen to that back at the beginning of this conversation?”

I shrug, uncomfortably. “Chill out, Westing,” I whisper to him. “Shut the hell up and hold on just a sec.” I don’t think Rath and Zan particularly want to hear what Nate has to say right now, hence the gag in the first place.

We follow Rath over to the steep stairwell on the side of the tiny room. I swoop down to grab the remaining pizza before ascending the stairwell behind him. Within moments, we’re standing on a street corner that can’t be too far from the hotel. I glance around, confused.

“Your hotel is thattaway, scout,” Rath mutters to me. I turn around and watch as Nate pulls himself out of the storage room. Apparently, we’ve been in the basement of an unused storefront. Nice and resourceful.

“This your HQ?” I ask Rath.

“Answers later,” he says. “Oh, no wait, I forgot, I got cut out of that pow-wow. Yeah, no, this ain’t our joint. We just borrowed it.” He folds his arms, glancing back and forth between me and Nate. Nate, for his part, is shuffling away quietly, trying to discreetly put as much distance between him and Rath as possible.

“Look,” I say with a sigh. “Max, I mean, my Zan, he’s no better than the one you got stuck with. I know what you’re going through.”

Rath’s scowl wrinkles into a hint of a smile. “You and me, we’re cut from the same cloth, bro.”

Bro. I squint at him. I call Max my brother, but we’re just pod-mates. I call Nate my brother, but we just share the same placement. This guy, this Rath… might be the closest thing I have to a real brother. A twin brother?

“Yeah, real fascinating, guys, Michael, can we just go?” Nate begs.

Rath moves closer to him and Nate puffs out his chest a little, trying to act tough. “Far as I can tell, Rushmore, you got nothin’ goin’ for you ‘cept that this guy here says he likes you,” Rath informs Nate.

“Far as I can tell, Sideburns, you can’t do anything to me as long as that bearded freak down there says so,” Nate spits back at him.

“Nate!” I growl at him. I grab his arm. “We’re going,” I say to the both of them, and I drag Nate down the street, feeling Rath’s eyes on us the whole time.

“Let go of me!” Nate snaps, and I drop his arm promptly. He yanks it back, rubbing it protectively. “It’s bad enough I got Bizarro-Michael beating the crap out of me, you gotta manhandle me, too?”

“Look,” I say in disbelief. “For all the time you’ve spent around aliens since May, you’d think you would have learned not to piss one off. That guy back there is gunning for you big time.”

“That guy back there is a prick,” he grumbles.

“Hey,” I say defensively. “He’s me.”

“Like I said,” Nate says bitterly. “No, seriously, Michael. He’s not. He’s not you. When they assaulted us back there, I think he wanted to kill me. Really. Zan stopped him even then, made him tie me up.”

“I got knocked out,” I say. “They didn’t knock you out?”

He shakes his head. “I was conscious the whole time. You weren’t out for very long. I guess they figured they could take me on fully conscious but needed an advantage over you.”

“Well, they got it,” I say, rubbing the back of my head with a wince. “Hey, man, let’s hurry back to Sbarro’s and grab some more slices for us. I’ll buy so Veronica doesn’t ask questions. I’m not starving to death on account of any clone of Max Evans.”

“Man,” Nate says. “Life with you is weird.”

I roll my eyes. “Figures. You know, it figures that this is my one chance to be normal for a few days, get out of Roswell, and I run smack in to my alien twin brother. If that doesn’t beat all.”

Nate rubs his wrists. “I think that guy’s into pain or something. When he was untying me he kept wrenching the ropes a lot harder than he had to.”

I glance at him worriedly. “He’s not me, Nate.”

“Dude. You just said he was.”

But I shake my head. “Now I’m saying he’s not.”

“Yeah, and speaking of which. You sat there talking to them for ten minutes and didn’t make them untie me! You are such a jackass!” He smacks me on my arm for emphasis, and although it’s a light punch, my arm does sting a little.

“Hey,” I say defensively. “I didn’t know if they were on our side or not. Look, I got you out of there safe and sound, okay?”

“Whatever Zan wants to talk to you about,” Nate says firmly, “remember that he’s not Max. You know, on second thought, I don’t like this at all. Maybe you should call Max and Isabel after we get back to the hotel room.”

“Do me a favor and stay out of the alien politics, Westing. I can handle this.”

“Yeah, just like you could handle their little assault back there.”

“Dammit, Nate-“

“Dammit, Michael. This is serious. You don’t know the first thing about these guys, except that they seem to be the same species as-“

“Would you keep it down?” I snap, glancing around at the crowds swarming around us.

He rolls his eyes but obliges. “They seem to be the same as you,” he adds. “And they look a lot like you and your buddy Max. Beyond that? I’d think the big question marks might act like a warning sign, if the fact that Rath kept trying to hurt me didn’t already serve the same purpose.”

“I’ll be careful, okay?”

“Good,” Nate says. “That’s all I want.”

Chapter 107

I stretch my legs out, draping them onto the carpeted hotel room floor. There’s not enough room on this couch to completely extend my body. Not that it matters, I’m not sleeping. With a sigh, I glance at the clock. 3:22. Just a few more minutes.

I’m not as tired as I probably should be. For a day where I reunited with Maria – who I still need to call – flew across the country, was kidnapped by two aliens and suffered through Beauty and the Beast, well, I should be downright exhausted. I gotta admit, I do have to admit the whole thing with the Beast transforming into a prince was almost cool. Almost. I think Nate liked it too. He and I both feigned boredom, though, trying to out-cool each other.

I sit up, mindful of the clock, and the fact that I need to be outside the hotel room before Zan comes knocking. It won’t do me much good for Max’s alien hybrid clone to wake up my former foster parent in the middle of the night in the process of throwing a political conference.

Slowly, I stagger to my feet. My eyes survey my roommates. Veronica Butler is tucked soundly under the covers, softly snoring, one arm thrown up over her head. Annie Randall has kicked all the covers off and is snoring a little more loudly. In the other double bed, Nate Westing is curled up, breathing as slowly as the others, if quieter. No nightmares tonight. Course not, I’m in the room. Bloody hell.

I creep quietly into the bathroom, stopping to grab my jeans and shoes en route. Only when the door is closed do I turn on the light and study myself in the mirror. I think I like the new hair thing. Experimentally, I tug on it from the top, and frown at the reflection that almost looks like Rath. Can I make hair grow like Isabel? I hold my hand up to the roots, then pull it back. I don’t want to mess around with that right now.

My sweatpants come off in a heap on the floor, and I pull my jeans on, hopping around in a circle as I stagger to pull them on. I pull my boots on after that, and study myself in the mirror one more time.

I don’t look half tough enough to deal with the likes of Rath and Zan. Alien or not, it doesn’t take much to see that they’re from a completely different background than me. I’m just a punk foster kid from Roswell, New Mexico, alien DNA notwithstanding. Zan is a true street tough from New York City, who didn’t even have the tempering influence of a piss-poor alcoholic excuse for a guardian raising him. I’m out of my league here.

Oh, well.

I turn off the light and creep back into the room. I drape my sweatpants across the couch where I’m supposed to be sleeping, and on second thought give a half-hearted attempt at arranging the bedding so that I could conceivably be tucked underneath, just in case. I’m so caught up in this task that I’m startled out of my skin by the whisper from behind me.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Annie,” I whisper back softly, “go back to sleep.” I turn to see her sitting up in bed, blinking at me and rubbing her ear.

“Where are you going?” she asks sleepily.

I shake my head at her. “Just going for a walk around the hotel. I can’t sleep.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s alien business, isn’t it.”

Angrily, I gesture at Veronica’s hopefully oblivious form. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She sits up in bed, squinting at me. “Nate told me there were other aliens here.”

“Nate has an over-active imagination. Good night.”

“I can’t sleep, either. I want to go with you.”

“No!” I hiss. The thought of Annie getting anywhere near those creeps makes me squirm. I glance at the clock. 3:27. Zan might already be waiting outside. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“It is alien business,” she guesses with satisfaction.

“There’s no such thing as aliens, now good night,” I say.

Annie rolls her eyes at me and remains silent.

The kid’s got a point. “I’m meeting another alien outside. It’s dangerous. Do not even think of following me.”

Annie yawns, then scowls. “I miss all the fun.”

“Yeah, and it’s why you still got a foster home and Nate and I are in the stupid group home. Do yourself a favor and forget you woke up.”

She’s not pleased, but doesn’t really have an argument, and so Annie rolls over to try to go back to sleep while I quietly slip out of the room.

I glance up and down the balcony. Our room is situated on a balcony overlooking the big atrium, on the fifteenth floor. I’ve never been on the fifteenth floor of anything in my life. I’ve never even been in a building that had fifteen floors. It’s no wonder I couldn’t sleep.

“Yo,” I say involuntarily, upon turning and bumping straight in to Zan. “Security let you in here?”

Zan shrugs. “I get around,” he says enigmatically.

“Remind me not to let my guard down in this hotel,” I say, staring at him.

Zan peers at me doubtfully. “Don’t ever let your guard down,” he warns. “Follow me.”

I follow him over to the elevator bank, and we descend to the ground floor, the lights rushing up past us. I move towards the door, away from the glass part of the elevator. I can’t take this.

“Whatcha really doin’ in these parts, Roswell?” Zan demands as we make our way down a brightly lit street. I can’t get over the fact that even in the middle of the night, there’s people everywhere – laughing in the twinkling lights of the piano bars, smoking on the gun-covered sidewalks, romancing in the side alleys.

“Told you, family business,” I say.

He clicks his tongue. “It’s like Rath said,” he points out. “You ain’t got no family here. ‘Cept for us. Don’t you know who youse is?”

“We know we’re the Royal Four,” I begin, but Zan cuts me off.

“Don’t use those words out here,” he admonishes me. “You never know where your enemies is.”

I bite my happily unpierced lip and follow him another block down the street, further and further away from what seems to be civilization, past the last Broadway marquee. “Is it safe back here?” I ask nervously, and Zan scoffs at me.

“You ain’t afraid of no humans, dawg,” he chides. “You gots abilities they can’t begin to imagine.”

“I know,” I say, rather boldly. “I know I’m strong. But I don’t want to have to prove it here and now, you get it?”

Zan glances at me. “I dig,” he says hesitantly. “Sometimes you gotta let ‘em know who’s boss, aight?”

“Uh, yeah,” I stammer. “Look, you did pick up on the fact that I’m here with three humans, right?”

He shakes his head at me as we dash across the street against a blinking ‘DON’T WALK’ sign. Actually, I’m the one dashing, Zan is moving at a leisurely stroll. “Where’s your protector?”

“In Washington,” I say, hoping once more that he’s who he says he is and not a shapeshifter or something. That’s general enough, right? “You had a different one? There’s two of ‘em?”

“Yeah,” Zan says. “He’s in LA. We think. We don’t hear from him too much.” He leans in. “They are not to be trusted, you dig? You tell them what to do and they do it. That’s status quo. But remember they are your protectors. They ain’t your friends.”

“Huh,” I say suspiciously. “How come you know so much more than me? Your protector told you all that?”

“Some of it,” Zan says. “Some of it, we just knew. In here.”

He gestures to the bright red bar entrance. Down the front door are a series of cut-out letters, windows into the heart of the place, but it’s so dark that even in the dark of night I can’t see what’s inside. RUDY’S. “You can’t drink,” I say accusingly. “I know you can’t.”

“Don’t matter.”

“And,” I add, “we don’t have ID’s. You’re not older than sixteen, are you?”

He snorts at me. “Just shut up and watch and learn, Roswell.” Zan pulls the door open. “Yo, James,” he says.

“Hey there, Zan,” James, a large-sized guy sitting on a stool greets him neutrally. “Almost closing time.”

“The kid’s with me,” Zan says with a nod in my general direction.

James nods, then does a double-take as he stares at me. “You got quite a make-over there,” he says.

Zan rolls his eyes, apparently having actually forgotten about my resemblance to Rath. “It’s his cousin,” he mutters, not entirely audible. “C’mon.”

He drags me through the smoky, beer-drenched, tightly packed young crowd. Seventies music is blaring from the brightly lit jukebox in the back. It must be almost closing time, and it looks like everyone’s either trashed or getting ready to leave with someone, or both. “We’re gonna talk in here?” I ask doubtfully.

“No,” Zan says. He pushes past a group of older men to bang on the counter. “Two Cokes and two dogs with the works,” he commands to the woman behind the bar, who hurriedly finishes up the drink she’s mixing and then ignores the next few patrons to bustle to prepare Zan’s order.

He shoves a coke and a dog at me before pushing past me. It occurs to me that he didn’t pay for either. We inch through the throng towards the back of the bar.

What Zan does when we reach the back of the bar surprises me only a little. In full view of about half a dozen drunks, he reaches out with his hand and opens the locked rear exit. And sure enough, not a soul even blinks. The blinding power of alcohol. I’ve used it to my advantage on more than one occasion myself. He leads me into a deserted courtyard and closes the door firmly behind us. He walks over to a small table and settles himself down at it. I sit down across from him, nervously.

“Now,” he says, leaning up against the back of his seat and chomping down on his hot dog, “we can talk.”

“We can,” I say, looking him over. I set my hot dog to the side and gently sip at the coke.

“I don’t trust my dawgs,” Zan says. “You met your bro, you see it. They’re undisciplined. They don’t get what we gots to do if we’re gonna make it home.”

“Okay,” I say hesitantly.

“Thing is, I know the deal. They don’t. And I know we gots to stick together. Four of us. You lose one, you lose the crown. You dig?”

“Yeah, I follow,” I say, squinting at him. “Why don’t you tell them that?”

“Cause the answer’s obvious,” he says. “It’s why we got back-ups. And that’s the four of youse.”

“So,” I say, “they find out the deal, they kill you and go find Max, right?”

Zan nods. “A little faster on the uptake then my buddy Rath,” he says. “Good job, Michael.”

“And since you’re talking to me,” I say, “that means…” I sip slowly on my coke as I try to put the pieces together.

“I want to know where you stand,” he says. I set my coke down.

“As a replacement for Rath?” I ask, dumbfounded. “So you’re gonna pull the same trick in reverse?”

“Depends on if you pass the test or not,” Zan says.

“And what test would that be?”

“The test of if I like you or not.”

“I see,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I take a bite of the hot dog, hoping to quell the churning in my stomach. “How’m I doin’ so far?” I ask around my mouthful before swallowing.

“Tell me about Max,” is all he says.

“Well,” I say, not quite sure where to begin. “He and Isabel, they were adopted together.”

“Isabel, she your mate or his?”

I wrinkle my forehead at that. “Mine,” I say uncomfortably.

“Vilandra,” he confirms. “Go on.”

“So they’re a lot closer to each other. The family that adopted them, they’re real nice people. Almost too safe, if you get my drift.”

Zan nods. “I do. What’s your sitch?”

Sitch? Oh, situation. I gulp down another bite of hot dog. “Grew up in foster care,” I say dismissively. “I’m placed at a group home right now, but my former foster family brought me on vacation here. That kid you met, er, ho