Alienated

Chapter Seven

Cara lifted one leg from the water and watched tendrils of steam swirl up from her reddened skin. The bath was one of the few places she could be alone now. Colonel Rutter wasn’t kidding when he’d called the LEAP a job—she’d worked overtime making Aelyx feel at home these last couple of weeks.

With her laptop perched securely on the tub’s porcelain ledge, she tapped the screen with a dry index finger and pulled up her blog. Her eyes automatically darted to the followers—a whopping 120,467—before skimming the comments from that morning’s post.

28 comments

Amanda said ...

You’re so lucky! I wish our school had gotten him.

Olca said ...

Beam me up, Hottie!

Ashley said ...

He doesn’t shave? That’s so cool. No wonder his skin looks sooo soft. ::swoon::

Keith said ...

STFU, Ashley. I have three classes with the smug jerk, and it sucks.

Marcus said ...

True dat, Keith. Dude’s a total douche-guzzler. HALO meeting tomorrow @3pm.

Humanist said ...

Who gives a damn about beards? What about weapons? Ask him that, you stupid BITCH.

Tori said ...

@Humanist: Post that under your real name, coňo. So I can come put my foot up your ass.

From there, it got really ugly. Who knew an innocent bit of trivia could incite so much drama? She changed her blog set­tings to suspend comments pending her approval and closed the computer screen.

After plunking a grapefruit-scented bath fizzy into the water, she sank down and tried to decide what to wear when she got out of the tub. Tonight the camera crew would film the first round of interviews—nationally televised interviews—so millions of people could kick back in their recliners, crack open a cold Bud, and laugh at the idiotic things she’d undoubt­edly say. At least it wasn’t live, so the film editor could delete any incidents of projectile vomiting.

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted her solitude. “Hey, Pepper,” shouted her dad. “Tori’s here.”

“Okay. Tell her to hang out in my room.”

“Already did.” The thud of Dad’s heavy work boots retreated toward the kitchen.

Cara dried off and wrapped herself in a fluffy blue bath­robe before padding to her bedroom, but Tori was nowhere to be found. Just as Cara started toward the kitchen, she heard a thump against the wall coming from Aelyx’s bedroom. A quick peek down the hall showed his door ajar—odd, consid­ering he’d never left it open before.

On tiptoe, she peered into his room and found Tori rifling through the dresser drawers, hunched over piles of clothing like a bargain bin shopper on half-price day.

“What the hell!” Cara glanced over her shoulder. Luckily, Aelyx wasn’t within earshot . . . yet. “Get outta there!”

Without bothering to turn around, Tori held up some­thing that looked like a metal golf ball. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know, but put it back!” Clearly she’d have to haul Tori away by force before Aelyx discovered them snooping through his things. She rushed forward, snatching the ball from Tori’s palm. It felt lighter than she’d expected, and she couldn’t help taking a closer look. The brushed, steely surface felt cool to the touch, not conducting her body heat the way metal should. She gave it a light shake, but nothing rattled inside. “Where’d you get this?”

“Top drawer, under his boxers.”

“Seriously? You went through his underwear? You’re deranged.” Cara opened the drawer and shoved the sphere beneath Aelyx’s . . . personal articles. Then, after hastily refolding the shirts Tori had rumpled, she grabbed her friend’s hand and hauled her out of Aelyx’s room, closing the door behind them.

She had barely enough time to shove Tori across the threshold to her bedroom when Aelyx rounded the corner and strode into the hallway. He stopped short when he noticed her, eyes wide as if she’d caught him doing something wrong instead of the other way around. Cara hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she felt.

“Hey,” she said casually, pulling her robe’s belt a little tighter. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” He folded both arms across his chest, which drew her attention to his dirt-streaked sweater. “Just getting some fresh air before the interview.”

“Again?”

This made three days in a row he’d gone out for “fresh air” and returned looking like he’d face-planted into the lawn. A scrap of brown peeking out from beneath his shoe revealed an oak leaf he’d tracked inside. Maybe he’d been secretly meeting a girl in the woods. A surge of completely irrational jealousy swelled beneath her rib cage before she reminded herself Aelyx didn’t have any girlfriends. That she knew of. . .

He studied the floor when he mumbled, “Yes. The colors don’t bother me as much now.”

“Right. The colors.” He was the world’s worst liar. But as much as she wanted to press him for more information, it wasn’t any of her business. It’s not like she wanted Aelyx for herself, so who cared if he was hooking up on the sly? Cara shoved down her irritation, suddenly feeling extra naked beneath her thin blue bathrobe. “Hope you had a nice walk,” she chirped, scooting inside her room.

Once safely behind her own closed door, she refocused, gearing up to tear her best friend a new one. But then Tori turned around, and all those reprimands slid down the back of Cara’s throat. Redness rimmed Tori’s bloodshot eyes, half concealed by puffy lids. She’d been crying. Only Tori didn’t cry. Ever.

“What happened?” Cara crouched down to study her friend’s face as if the answer might be written across her fore­head, but Tori backed away with a casual shrug.

“I got impeached.”

“From student council? They can’t do that!”

Tori dragged her feet to the bulletin board and began fidgeting with Cara’s awards and ribbons, rubbing the satiny fabric between her fingers. “They can call a vote if I miss three meetings.”

“But you didn’t—”

“They switched the last two meeting times and didn’t tell me.” Grabbing her braid, Tori swept the frayed ends back and forth across her lips. “Then I skipped one last month when you asked me to come over. Y’know, that day you dropped the bomb about—”

“The exchange.” The real reason for this little coup d’etat. Damn it, Tori shouldn’t have to suffer for sitting next to Aelyx in the lunchroom. “They can’t do this. We’ll call Mr. Ferguson.”

“Forget it. I don’t wanna be there if they all hate me. What’s the point?” Tori belly flopped onto Cara’s polka-dot bedspread. She rolled onto her side and traced an embroidered black circle with her fingernail. “I heard Jared Lee was gonna ask me to prom before all this, but he changed his mind. And my team’s givin’ me hell, too.”

“Well then Jared’s a tool. And soccer season’s almost over. Just hang in—”

“Don’t you think it’s time to send the A-Licker somewhere else?” Pushing upright, Tori hugged her knees. “I mean, I know you want the money and all, and it’s not like I care what anyone thinks . . .”

“You sure about that?” Of all the people caving to pres­sure lately, she hadn’t expected this from Tori, the firecracker who used her middle finger like a calling card. Cara walked to the closet and fingered through her meager wardrobe without seeing a thing, blinded by disappointment. “Look, I committed to this, but it’s not all about the money.” Which was true. She’d kind of grown to like Aelyx, or at least to tolerate him. “Give him a break; he hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Hasn’t done anything wrong that you know of. Come on, Cara. He’s a total creeper and he’s up to something. Besides, I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“Huh?” Cara spun around with a belt in one hand and a skirt in the other. “How does he look at me?”

Tori raised a black brow. Then she made a circle with one hand and stuck her index finger through it in an X-rated puppet show. “Like he wants to dock his ship inside your spaceport.”

“You’ve cracked. I think he’s seeing someone.”

“Not a chance.” Tori shook her head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. He watches you like a stalker—everyone’s talking about it.”

Great. That meant the rumor mill would proclaim her pregnant with alien twins by next week.

“It’s just because I’m his only friend.”

Tori narrowed one eye. “You’re defending him? Maybe he’s drugging you. You pour your own drinks, right?”

“Don’t be ridic.” She held up two tops—one pink, one green. “Which one?”

Tori pointed to the sleeveless pink V-neck and scooted off the bed. “Let me know if you wanna ditch him some night. It sucks that you’re single now and I still don’t get to see you.”

Thinking about the breakup still sent pinpricks skittering across Cara’s body, but they stung a little less each time. This one barely hurt. “You can see me whenever you want.”

“Alone. As in, without him lurking around the corner.” Tori dug through Cara’s makeup bag and inspected a couple shades of lip gloss. “I’m takin’ this,” she declared, holding up Gritty in Pink.

“But you don’t even wear makeup.”

“I do now.” She nabbed a tube of mascara, too. “Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

But she just waved the pilfered cosmetics and left without another word. Cara stared at her zippered bag in confusion, then shook her head and dressed for the interview.

Cara leaned back and enjoyed the soft tickle of a foundation brush while the makeup artist worked her magic. The stylist ran his fingers through her hair, and the sensation brought goose bumps to the surface of her skin. She sighed and lis­tened to the flurry of activity coming from the living room. The air was thick with excitement and hairspray.

“Ugh,” said a sharp female voice. “That sofa’s hideous. We’ll need a solid neutral drape. Have three chairs brought in from the kitchen and cover them in the same fabric.” The sound of clicking heels approached. “Tell the lighting crew to set up in the corner and crank up the air conditioner. This tiny dump will get hot fast.”

Dump? Cara’s eyelids flew open, and she scanned the room for the source of the voice. Sure, the sofa was hideous and her house was small, but it wasn’t a dump.

“Seat Bill Sweeney on the outside,” said a woman with chin-length, platinum blond hair. She wore a C-emblazoned pink suit and had an annoyingly exquisite face. “He’s a total dud.”

“Hey!” Cara protested from her seat at the kitchen table. Strangers couldn’t insult her dad. Only she could insult her dad.

“And the mother—head shots only,” the woman said to her assistant. “She’s a chunky little thing.”

“I’m right here, you know.” Was this lady missing her internal filter? Maybe she thought beautiful people didn’t need one. Feeling a full-scale firestorm brewing, Cara held her breath and counted to twenty.

“I see that.” The woman picked a piece of lint from her shoulder. “Sharon Taylor. I’m interviewing you tonight.”

Pursing her red lips, she made a “shoo fly” motion with one hand. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah.”

Sharon shook her head. “Auburn hair and pallid skin—the worst combination. Don’t wear pink, sweetie. Redheads can’t pull it off.” Then she clucked her tongue in sympathy.

Screw twenty. Cara counted to a hundred. In Spanish.

“How about a nice kelly green top?”

“Don’t have one,” Cara lied, deciding to wear pink tonight out of spite.

“Oh, well.” Sharon waved her fingers at the makeup artist. “Play up her eyes. She’s got great eyes, at least.”

When Aelyx entered the kitchen, Sharon froze in place. “Sweet baby Jesus! You’re going to make my job so easy.” She sashayed over to him and cocked her head to the side, apprais­ing his face. “Very nice features,” she said, talking to herself. “Strong jaw, full mouth. Excellent wardrobe choice. You’re breathtaking.”

No kidding. Aelyx had cleaned up nicely since Cara had seen him in the hall. The fitted ivory shirt he’d chosen high­lighted his bronze skin while clinging to the contours of his chest, and he’d smoothed his long brown hair to perfection and secured it at the nape of his neck with a leather cord.

But then Sharon scowled. “What’s with the face? You look like a cyborg.”

Aelyx walked to the sink and filled a glass with water. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know, a robot. You’ve got no sentiment, no spark. Can you try to look a little animated?” She gripped her waist with one well-manicured hand.

Aelyx stared at her while Cara’s cheeks burned hot enough to fry eggs.

“If you’re so advanced, then you can manage to look alive. That empty stare’s disturbing, and it’s not going to help you fit—”

“Stop!” Cara stood from her chair. Unfortunately, the stylist still held a lock of her hair, sending her head snapping back. She rubbed her throbbing scalp and glared at Sharon. “There’s nothing wrong with his face.”

Sharon froze for a few seconds and brought her hands together in prayer. “I just had an epiphany. Cut the parents. They’re boring.” She pointed back and forth between Aelyx and Cara. “This is what people want to see.” Smiling and nodding like a dashboard bobblehead, she added, “Friendship, maybe more?”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Friendship, period.” She stalked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Her stylist followed and shellacked one last section of hair in place while Cara tried to steady her pounding heart.

Aelyx sat beside her, so close his sleeve brushed her bare arm. When he leaned in to whisper in her ear, a spicy-sweet scent filled her nostrils.

“And you say our breeding program is a bad idea,” he teased, nodding toward the kitchen. “I give you irrefutable evidence to the contrary.”

“What? You mean Sharon?” Was he wearing cologne, or did all L’eihrs smell this good? And how had she never noticed before?

“On my planet, she’d never be allowed to reproduce, and no one would clone her. She’s awful.”

Cara couldn’t argue with that. “I think she left her soul at home. Maybe it didn’t match her shoes.”

Sharon took the seat opposite the sofa, and her crew filed into place. With the living room at full occupancy, Mom and Dad came in from the porch and settled in the kitchen door­way to watch, giving Cara encouraging waves.

“Don’t be nervous,” Sharon said. “We’re not live, so mis­takes are no big. Ready?”

She turned to the camera and flashed her flawless white veneers. “Good evening, America. I’m here with Cara Sweeney, host to a very special exchange student . . . from planet L’eihr!”

Sharon pointed a golden pen at the sofa. “Cara, tell us about your role in the program.”

“Well.” Cara paused to clear her throat, even though it didn’t need clearing. “I take Aelyx everywhere I go and help him understand how we live. He shadows me in school—we even share a locker.” She covertly wiped her sweaty palms on the cotton slipcover.

“How do the other students feel about that?”

“Um, there were a lot of stares the first day. But it’s been almost two weeks now, and things are mostly back to normal.” It was the Mount Everest of lies. Protests contin­ued each morning, usually ending in fistfights, and students openly recruited new members for HALO right there in the hallway as she and Aelyx passed. They wore little gold pins in the shape of angel wings, but their whispered insults were anything but saintly.

Sharon crossed her legs. “Aelyx, how were you chosen for this program and what did you do to prepare?”

“I have a special talent for learning languages, so The Way selected me to represent our people.” He spoke fluidly—no hint of anxiety—and for the first time, Cara envied his ability to shut off his emotions.

“The Way?” Sharon asked.

“Our wisest leaders. They make all decisions on L’eihr.”

“I must say, your English is impeccable,” she said. “No trace of an accent. How long did it take you to learn?”

“One week.”

“Excuse me?” Sharon leaned forward, cupping one ear, while Cara questioned her own hearing. Maybe a week didn’t mean the same thing on L’eihr. “You learned English in a week, as in seven days?”

“It took one week to master English,” he said. “As lan­guages go, yours is rather uncomplicated. I spent my remaining time studying Earth’s history, particularly reoccurring themes of warfare. We take academics seriously on L’eihr, unlike Midtown’s students, who seem content to learn as little as possible.”

Cara discreetly kicked him in the ankle while smiling for the camera.

“Ow—Well,” Aelyx corrected, “only some of them. Oth­ers are quite dedicated.”

Sharon froze with the golden pen wedged between her lips. “Uh . . . what was your first impression of our planet?”

While Aelyx leaned back on the sofa, tilting his head in contemplation, Cara braced herself for a tsunami of com­plaints. She didn’t expect to hear him say, “Amazement. The colors of my home are neutral and muted, so Earth’s vibrancy was a shock. To be honest, sometimes the beauty is over­whelming. It’s a shame you’re allowing industry to destroy it.” He folded his hands in his lap. “And I was impressed by the hospitality of my host family. They’ve amazed me, especially Cah-ra.”

“How so?”

“I’m not sure she’d want me to share the most recent example.” He glanced at her, eyes bright with amusement.

“Oh, no.” He meant The Great Barley Debacle. She couldn’t believe he’d brought it up. On national television! Cara laughed nervously as her cheeks went up in flames.

“Now I’m intrigued,” Sharon said.

“I’ve had trouble finding food I can consume here. Cah-ra. keeps trying to re-create my favorite L’eihr flatbread from ingredients on Earth to stop me from going hungry.” He laughed and shook his head. “It’s such a kind gesture.”

Cara tried to pull herself together. “I’m going to find some­thing you like or die trying. You can get me back by making disgusting fake Pop-Tarts when it’s my turn on L’eihr.”

Sharon smiled knowingly at the camera before turning back to Cara and Aelyx. “That’s a beautiful necklace,” Sharon said. “Very unusual.”

“Thanks. Aelyx gave it to me for my birthday.”

“Oh, really?” Sharon’s voice dripped with implication. “Give us a look.”

With a little reluctance, Cara lifted the silk cord so the cameraman could zoom in on the ahib. She hoped Sharon didn’t try to spin this into something romantic.

Sharon quirked an eyebrow. “So he gives you jewelry, and you spend hours baking for him? Sounds like you’re getting along really well. That’s what I call interplanetary relations!”

Holy God, why did she have to take it there? The woman really was missing a soul.

The interview continued until Sharon said she had enough material to edit into a thirty-minute show. Cara felt a cold weight in her stomach when she thought about the national airing on Friday. The exchange program’s goal was to make people trust Aelyx, but she doubted anyone with a serious prejudice against L’eihrs would like what they heard. In fact, it would only feed their paranoia.

Later that night, Cara hovered over her laptop to perform some damage control.

Sex sells, she typed. And a certain journalist wants you to think I’m letting Aelyx stun me with his laser, if you know what I mean. Don’t buy it—we’re just friends. And speaking of Aelyx, let’s cut him some slack. Try to put yourself in his four-toed shoes and—

A clatter from outside startled her, jerking her fingers away from the keys and drawing her attention to the back wall. This sound was different from the customary raccoon assault on their garbage cans—muffled and farther away.

She turned off her bedroom light and tiptoed to the window, where she pushed aside the curtain and peered into the darkness.

The moon’s dim glow illuminated the backyard, but noth­ing seemed out of place. She swept her gaze across the shorn grass; past the old, rusted swing set; and into the trees, find­ing nothing out of the ordinary. Just as she was turning away, something moved in her periphery, and she spun back into place in time to see the shed door swing open.

Cara’s heart pounded. Someone was in the shed . . . where Dad kept the chain saw and a variety of other mass-murderous tools. Her overactive imagination conjured pictures of a hockey-masked lunatic kicking in the back door, armed with a cushion-gripped awl. Pressing her nose to the glass, she squinted at the intruder’s long ponytail and his broad shoulders as he closed the door and refastened the latch. She released a loud sigh of relief, fogging the windowpane in the process. It was only Aelyx.

But relief soon mingled with concern. Why was he in the shed, all alone at midnight? If Cara focused hard, she could barely make out the shape of a small box in his left hand. He glanced over both shoulders, as if he sensed her watching, but before she could drop the curtain, he jogged toward the woods and disappeared into the blackness.

What the hell? Cara stood frozen, her head tipped in con­fusion. So if Aelyx wasn’t meeting a girl for frisky-time in the woods, what was he doing out there? She ran down a mental list of what could be inside the box he’d taken from the shed. Birdseed, insecticide, nails, grass seed, fertilizer, screws. What would he want with any of that?

Was Tori right? Could Aelyx have an ulterior motive on Earth? Cara felt silly even considering the possibility, but that didn’t stop her from chewing on her thumbnail and staring out the window for the next hour, where she fell asleep wait­ing for him to return.