Alienated

Chapter Eight

“Hey, Dad,” Cara called into the kitchen before peeking inside. If her parents were getting jiggy against the fridge, she wanted to give them time to unlock their lips before she walked in on something that couldn’t be unseen. “You in there?”

“Yup.” He was all alone, leaning against the counter and elbow-deep in a bag of Doritos.

“Where’s Mom?”

He muttered around a mouthful of chips, “The grocery.”

A man of few words, her dad. But those were the words she’d wanted to hear. Cara whipped out her cell phone and sent Mom a text. Can u make roast tonite?

Seconds later, Mom replied, U hate roast, which was abso­lutely true.

For A, Cara clarified, not me. She still hadn’t found a meal Aelyx liked, but she was getting closer with each attempt. The key was flavor—his taste buds couldn’t tolerate as much as hers. Unsalted crackers, air-popped popcorn, dry toast: these were the foods he tolerated best, so she needed to think bland. And when it came to bland, not even Introductory Statistics could compete with Mom’s roast.

Will do.

Cara sent a quick Thanks! and pocketed her phone. She noticed Dad’s work duffel discarded by the back door. “Is your medic stuff in there?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Can I borrow your stethoscope?”

Another nod.

“We’re studying auscultation in health class,” she lied.

He swept a hand toward his duffel and quirked a go ahead brow.

“I just want to listen to my valves.”

He scrutinized her above the Doritos bag. “Really.”

Before he had a chance to change his mind, she rifled through his supplies and grabbed the scope.

“I’ll bring it back in a few minutes,” she called over one shoulder as she retreated to her bedroom.

Once there, she locked the door and knelt at the wall that separated her from Aelyx. Then she tucked the stethoscope tips inside her ears, pressed the chest piece to the wall, and shamelessly tried to eavesdrop on the speakerphone conversa­tion taking place in the next room.

She heard three muffled voices—Aelyx’s, another male, one female—and in keeping with her rotten luck, they were all speaking L’eihr. Or at least she thought so. The stethoscope didn’t amplify as much sound as she’d hoped. The voices sounded young, though, and they spoke with more inflection than the droning ambassador from the gala. So she assumed these were the other exchange students, the short, friendly-looking guy they sent to China and the girl who ended up in France. After a couple minutes, Cara still had no clue what they were saying, but their tone didn’t sound secretive. The girl was obviously bitching about something, and the boys seemed oblivious as they laughed and carried on their own side discussion. In other words, they were normal teenagers.

Cara didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated.

She’d spent every minute of the last several days watch­ing Aelyx for strange behavior. Well, stranger behavior. But nothing had changed. He still rearranged the plates in the dishwasher so they lined up in meticulous order, and he still turned up his nose at doughnuts and Froot Loops. If any­thing, his attitude had improved. She’d suggested that he observe other teens for social cues, and he’d done the job in spades. Yesterday after spending the afternoon with the track team, Aelyx had smacked her on the back and yelled, “Good hustle!” after she’d jogged up the front porch steps.

What he hadn’t done was sneak out to the woods again, which made her wonder if she’d overreacted. For all she knew, he could’ve been rummaging in the shed for the same reason she snooped through medicine cabinets when she used other people’s bathrooms—pure curiosity. Maybe his trips into the woods really were innocent strolls. Or maybe he’s gathering information out there, her inner nutcase whispered, to identify human weaknesses.

No, it didn’t make sense. Humans had plenty of weaknesses; that was no secret. Following all those political blogs had made her paranoid. And a jerk. While Aelyx was in there making time for his friends, she was huddled on the floor taking the plaster’s heartbeat. She should be with Tori, who’d just lost her spot on the soccer team. Enough of this douchebaggery.

Cara tossed the stethoscope onto her bed and dialed Tori’s cell. When it went to voice mail, she tried her landline and got the same result. Weird. Maybe the team had reconsid­ered. Cara was about to send a text when the garage door sounded from the other end of the house, and she headed to the kitchen to help bring in the groceries. If she couldn’t reach Tori, at least she could lend a hand in fixing supper for her only other friend in the world.

A couple hours later, when the kitchen was thick with the scents of potatoes and carrots, Cara dished up a plate and made her way to Aelyx’s bedroom in hopes of enticing him to the dinner table. Since he couldn’t stand the smell of their food any more than the taste, he hadn’t joined them for many meals.

With mad waitressing skills, she balanced the plate in the crook of one arm while knocking on his door. After he shouted, “Come in,” she peeked inside and found him stretched out on the bed reading Thermal Physics. He’d unclasped his long brown hair so it spilled around his face like a satiny veil. Truth be told, he looked hotter than the stoneware burning through the arm of her sweater.

“Thermal physics, huh?” she asked. “I breezed through that last night in the bath, right after Advanced Biotech.”

He shot a cold glare over the top of his book. Ouch. His mood sure had shifted since his lighthearted phone call that afternoon. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the plate.

“This, my alien friend, is pot roast.” She made a show of inhaling the steam wafting up from the dish, even though she didn’t like it. “I know I’ve said it before, but I think this is the one.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said skeptically. “Just like chicken noodle soup. Honestly, Cah-ra, I’m not—”

“Just come to the table and try it.” She backed into the hall and beckoned for him to follow. “It’s only meat and veg­etables. No seasonings. Mom didn’t even salt it.” To further convince him, she added, “If you don’t like this, I promise I won’t make you try anything else.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.” Like that was going to happen. “But I’ll leave you alone for a whole week.”

He gave a resigned sigh and closed his book, then sat up and refastened his hair at the base of his neck. “Fine.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Mom and Dad were ready and waiting when they joined them at the table. Mom had even busted out the Merlot, something she only reserved for celebrations or really lousy days. Judging by her silence while making supper, though, Cara guessed it was the latter.

“Giving it another shot, eh?” Dad asked Aelyx.

Aelyx settled in his chair. “Cah-ra can be very persuasive.”

“Damn straight,” she added, sliding in beside him.

Mom shot her a warning glare while pouring Aelyx a glass of iced tea. “I picked up some tofu while I was out—that’s tasteless protein—so I’ll fry some if you don’t like the roast. Just let me know, hon.”

Cara gestured at Mom’s wineglass. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like you want to rip someone’s face off.”

Mom opened her mouth to speak but stopped and glanced at Aelyx just long enough for Cara to understand it had some­thing to do with him. “It’s been a long day.”

Then Dad blurted, “Her numbnuts volunteer coordinator tried giving her the ax because—”

“Bill!” Mom whispered, not so discreetly kicking Dad under the table. “We have a guest!”

“How can the library fire a volunteer?” Cara asked. “They don’t even pay you.”

“I didn’t get fired. The head librarian stepped in.” Mom flapped one hand in the air in a message to let the subject drop. “Now let’s eat.” Then she dug right in before insisting they say grace. Wow, she must really be pissed.

Following Mom’s lead, Cara speared a forkful of beef and signaled for Aelyx to do the same. He stabbed a small bite.

Cara lifted her fork in a toast. “Ready?”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she said. “We’ll do it together on the count of three. One . . . two . . .”

Before she finished, Aelyx wrinkled his nose and shoved the bite into his mouth. He clenched his eyes shut and chewed while Cara braced herself to admit failure once again.

But then something phenomenal happened.

Mom’s pot roast brought Aelyx to life. He glanced at Cara and smiled—a real smile that reached all the way to his eyes and lit them up like a supernova. Even his body responded, relaxing against his chair the way hot wax conforms to the curves of a votive holder.

“You like it?” Cara asked.

“It tastes just like l’ina!”

“Please tell me that’s not someone’s name.”

He laughed in a warm, low chortle that made her want to say something funny so she could hear it again. “It’s my favorite dish from home.”

“That’s a relief.” She wiped imaginary sweat off her fore­head. “Hey, maybe my brother’s eating I’ina right now and comparing it to Mom’s roast.”

“Possibly.” Wasting no time, he shoveled in another bite and spoke with one cheek full. “It’s a staple on my planet.”

“If Troy ever decides to e-mail, we’ll ask him,” Dad grumbled.

“I heard transmissions from L’eihr are delayed because of signal problems on the main transport,” Aelyx said. “They should’ve given Troy a com-sphere—that’s our newest tech­nology. But e-mail is antiquated, so it’s only as reliable as the ships conveying the electronic data. Think of it as an inter-galactic Pony Express. All it takes is one ship to disrupt the chain. That’s probably why you haven’t heard from him.”

That wasn’t why, but Cara didn’t want to further upset Mom, so she kept quiet.

She couldn’t quit watching Aelyx for the rest of the meal.

It made her smile to see him eat with so much enthusiasm. He’d never looked more human.

After they’d finished, she asked Mom to make pot roast every night that week. Bland or not, Cara would gladly suck it up if it meant seeing Aelyx glow that brightly each night. Because, you know, it was her job. Nothing more.