Alienated

Chapter One

Winning. Cara Sweeney had made it her business, and business was good. Honor Society president? Check. Young Leader Award? Check. State debate champion two years running? Double check. And when the title of valedictorian had eluded her, she’d found a way to snag that, too.

Over the summer, she’d staged an academic ambush of such epic proportions, Midtown High’s geek-elite were still chewing their pencils in shock. Sneaky as a senator, she’d retaken AP Calculus, raised her grade from 92 to 100, and usurped Marcus Johnson as valedictorian. Her stealth attack had caught him with his Hanes down, and unless her grades tanked this year—which was so not going to happen—the sulking loser had no chance of reclaiming his rank.

But she had a feeling Marcus would laugh his lacrosse pads off if he could see her now: slumped in the principal’s wingback guest chair, mouth agape as she tried to form a coherent response to the “awesome news” Mr. Ferguson had just tossed into her lap like a live grenade.

“I don’t think you understand what a big deal this is. Not only for you, but for the whole school.” Principal Ferguson’s brown caterpillar eyebrows inched toward a receding hairline. “The L’eihrs chose you over every other valedictorian in the country. We’re talking thirty thousand seniors!”

“Mmm-hmm.” Cara nodded blankly, trying to make sense of it. Maybe there’d been a mistake. She’d cut soccer, track, volunteer tutoring, and chess club a couple years ago when Mom got sick, and it took a lot more than academics to impress a scholarship committee these days. So why hadn’t they chosen someone more accomplished?

“I know the money comes with a few strings attached, but this is the opportunity of a lifetime.” Mr. Ferguson pointed a marble fountain pen at her and “fired” it like a tiny pistol. “Especially for a budding journalist. Think of the blog potential here.”

A few strings attached? Holy Mary, mother of all under­statements! Cara shifted in her seat, the backs of her thighs sticking to the warm leather. “Oh, right—yeah, of course I’m happy. It’s just a shock. I didn’t even apply.”

“No application. Every high school submitted its top can­didate, and the L’eihrs took it from there. You’ll never guess why they picked you.” Without giving her a chance to try, he announced, “They saw your footage from last year’s state debate finals. They admired your”—he held up two fingers and made air quotes—“passion.”

“What?” Cara scrunched her brows. Passion? She’d hammered the opposing team until their captain had cried and run off stage. The L’eihrs, who had the emotional range of tree bark, liked her atomic temper?

“This is huge!” Pausing a moment, Mr. Ferguson twisted his mouth while jabbing his index finger at a closed manila file folder. “And you don’t seem thrilled. Last year you said you were interested in exchange programs.”

Well, yeah. But there was foreign, and then there was foreign.

Mr. Ferguson leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk’s polished mahogany surface. His eyes softened behind thick glasses, voice lowering to a whisper. “You’re not afraid of the L’eihrs, are you?”

“No!” Cara scoffed, wiping her clammy palms on the front of her skirt. “Of course not.”

Okay, maybe a little. She’d been as fascinated as everyone else when the aliens made contact two years ago, but their secretive nature made her stomach feel heavy, like she’d eaten a dozen Taco Bell double-decker burritos in one sitting. And as much as she wanted to travel, leaving Earth wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

“Good. I don’t want you doing anything that makes you uncomfortable. The young man—uh, I mean the young . . . uh, well, technically we have the same DNA, so I guess I could call him—”

A sharp voice barked, “Student ambassador,” and Cara jumped in her seat. The old military guy lurking near the corner had camouflaged so perfectly into the green curtains that she’d almost forgotten he was there.

Mr. Ferguson nodded. “Right. The ambassador who’ll stay with your family sounds just like you—a top student, even by L’eihr standards, which is saying a lot.” He picked up a small photograph and handed it across the desk. “He just turned eighteen. His name’s Aelyx.”

He pronounced it A-licks. Cara gave the photo a perfunc­tory glance and handed it back. Whatever. They all looked the same to her.

“Wow, this scholarship is a lot more . . .” What was the right word? Lavish? Excessive? “. . . generous than the others I’ve applied for, but I don’t know how my parents will feel.”

What a bald-faced lie—she half expected her nose to grow. Mom and Dad would streak the Super Bowl halftime show just to meet a L’eihr, let alone live with one.

“No problem. I called your folks this morning, and they’re totally on board.”

Frick. Of course they were. Mom was probably empty­ing Troy’s old bedroom at that very moment, finally clearing out his tacky, testosterone-fueled shrine to heavy metal and Harley-straddling bimbos.

Mr. Ferguson stood and pulled some papers from his file. “And from what the colonel says, your brother’s over the moon”—he let out a hearty laugh—“to be the first human on planet L’eihr.”

“Wait.” She bolted forward, gripping the armrests. “Troy’s going there?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head.

“As soon as he heard you were selected, he volunteered to serve as human liaison for the program. He’ll get acclimated to the L’eihr culture now so he can help you and the other two exchange students adjust when it’s your turn next year. Think of him as your intergalactic mentor.” He grinned. “A big brother, no pun intended.”

If this were Mr. Ferguson’s idea of a few strings attached, she’d hate to see what he considered complicated.

The colonel came to life again, stepping forward and giv­ing a curt nod. “Your brother’s a fine Marine. He’s never turned down an opportunity to serve his country.”

Exactly. Which was why Cara hadn’t seen the jerkwagon in almost two years. Apparently the Middle East wasn’t far enough away for Troy—he needed to leave the galaxy now. What was next, time travel?

Principal Ferguson strode to the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet and happier than a pigeon with a French fry. “I’ll make some copies of the exchange contract while Colonel Rutter explains the details.”

Cara turned her head and caught a glimpse of her dazed reflection in the debate team trophy cabinet. The blue eyes of the concavely distorted girl staring back looked haunted, like the stuffed owls in science lab, and long wisps of fiery auburn hair made her cheeks look even paler.

Get a grip, she chided herself.Maybe it won’t be SO bad.

Sure, living with a L’eihr for the rest of the year would blow chunks, but she’d get a full ride out of the deal—anywhere she wanted, even Dartmouth! She’d never dreamed she could afford the Big Green, considering Mom’s treatments had knocked the family into a black hole of debt six figures deep.

And Mr. Ferguson was right about the blog potential. Humans knew next to nothing about L’eihrs, and she’d be sharing a bathroom with one. That gave her an instant leg up on every other journalist in the country.

What if she started a brand-new site, something with a catchy title and an outer-space theme? If A-licks would open up and spill some tidbits about life back home, she could run a special-interest series and attract followers from around the globe. And when it was her turn to visit L’eihr, all the photos and news she’d gather could land her a book deal. She might even be able to sell her proposal to a publisher before she left.

The more Cara thought about it, the more she realized the scholarship wasn’t the real prize here. This exchange could launch her career into the stratosphere. When she looked at it that way, putting up with a creepy houseguest was totally worth it.

“Buck up, Miss Sweeney.” Colonel Rutter’s firm voice brought her to attention, and she jerked upright like a soldier. He stood tall and lean behind the principal’s desk, narrowing his shrewd gray eyes as he spoke. “You look shell-shocked, and you should be. This program’s not for namby-pambies. I’m gonna lay it all out, and if you can’t handle this, you’d better say so. Understood?”

“Uh, yes.”

He glanced at his shoulder and smoothed a derelict wrin­kle into submission before sitting down. This man didn’t take any crap, not even from his clothes. “The World Trade Organization chose me to head the LEAP: the L’eihr Exchange Ambassador Program. America, France, and China will each get a student ambassador. The goal is to help humans and L’eihrs understand each other better. Now let’s be frank. We want an alliance with L’eihr.”

Cara nodded. Unlike most of her classmates, she made it her business to know what went on in the world beyond the school’s graffiti-stained walls.

“Our polls show Americans don’t support it. Too many suspicions. But the LEAP’s gonna change all that.”

“Seriously? How?”

“Aelyx will be your shadow. Where you go, he goes. Do you work?”

“I waitress on the weeken—”

“Quit.”

She cleared her throat. “Just quit?”

“The LEAP pays a small stipend, so consider it your job. Full time. You’ll represent the whole country, so you gotta go all in.” He leaned forward and raised his brows as if expecting a reply.

“Understood.” That seemed fair. The higher the reward, the greater the responsibility. She’d rock this exchange like a hurricane. Besides, she wouldn’t exactly miss slinging foot-longs at the Dreamy Weenie. “I’ll give my two weeks’ notice after school.”

“Make it one week.” Then he added, “Every other Wednesday, a camera crew will come to your house to tape interviews. They’ll air Fridays at nineteen hundred hours.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Televised interviews? Cara wiped her palms on her skirt again, rethinking a career at the Dreamy Weenie. “We’ll be on TV?”

“You asked how we’re gonna ease suspicions. This is how. By bringing a harmless L’eihr into everyone’s living rooms. People fear what they don’t understand, so they’re gonna get to know Aelyx. More importantly, they’ll see you”—he pointed an index finger at her nose, just like the old Uncle Sam poster—“at ease beside Aelyx, showing the world there’s nothing to fear.”

“But—”

“Now back to your responsibilities. You need to help Aelyx collect water and soil samples. Their scientists want to analyze contaminants. And I’ll expect you in Manhattan for the LEAP gala in three weeks.”

“An excused absence, so don’t worry.” Principal Ferguson breezed back into the room, oblivious to the fact that Cara’s pulse was pounding at the base of her throat. Probably because he wasn’t the one going on camera in front of eleventy billion people. He handed her a stack of papers still warm from the copier. “Here’s the contract and the scholarship details. Read this over with your folks tonight, then sign it and bring it back in the morning.”

Colonel Rutter thrust a business card at her chest. “Call if you have any questions. See you in three weeks.” Then he stood, turned on his heel, and left the room before she could ask if skipping the interviews was a deal breaker.

This was happening so fast. She could barely catch her breath. Less than five minutes ago, her greatest dilemma had been which movie to see Saturday night with her boyfriend, Eric, and now . . .

Oh, no! Eric! She’d forgotten all about him. He and his friends hated L’eihrs—not just a pinch of ignorance and a dash of mistrust, but serious loathing. He’d go full-on banana sandwich when she told him.

“You look a little overwhelmed.” Principal Ferguson sat on the edge of his desk, smiling down at her with such ten­derness it made her heart pinch. “But I know you’ll do great. I’m so proud of you.”

That nearly undid her. For some ass-backward reason, she could take any criticism, but kindness made her blubber like an infant. Digging a fingernail into her thigh to keep from crying, she whispered, “Thanks.”

“And this gives you a chance to thank the L’eihrs for what they’ve done.” He tilted his head, delivering a pointed look that shamed her. “I hope you don’t take that gift for granted.”

With flaming cheeks, Cara stared into her lap and brushed her thumb over the frayed hem of her jean skirt. The fact that she questioned this opportunity just proved she was the most unappreciative jerk on the planet. Her whole family owed an enormous debt to the scientists of L’eihr. Two years ago, as a gesture of goodwill, they introduced humans to the asheem—a potent medicinal root native to their planet, which could isolate and kill cancer cells. It had come just in time to save Mom’s life.

Standing, she summoned all her courage and extended her palm to shake the principal’s hand. It was time to woman up. This wasn’t the end of the world.

“This feels like the end of the world,” Syrine said, pressing her fingertips delicately against the spaceport window as if trying to capture the distant, backlit planet glowing in the darkness.

Aelyx glanced over the top of her head at Mother L’eihr. He’d never traveled off-terrain before, and he couldn’t deny the pang of longing that settled beneath his breastbone when he viewed their home from five hundred miles above the ground. Why the Elders had chosen to send them away—and to a primitive, foul planet such as Earth—was beyond him. Perhaps his leaders really had gone soft in the mind, as many of the other clones suspected.

“I wish they’d reconsider,” Eron whispered, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the ambassador hadn’t returned. “This alliance is madness.”

“Which is exactly why we need to go,” Aelyx told his friends. Unwilling to risk speaking aloud any longer, he locked eyes with Eron. Did you bring the sh’alear?

I sewed it into my tunic lining with a sprig of nilweed, Eron assured him. Just like you said. And I helped Syrine do the same. The canines at Earth’s customs checkpoint won’t smell a thing.

Good. Aelyx leaned against the cool metal wall, trying to look innocent. Just make sure you don’t launder your tunic while we’re aboard the ship.

Eron laughed. Like I’m that deficient. You’re the one who left a ration of l’ina under his bunk for a week.

A grin curved Aelyx’s mouth. Gods, that was awful. I’ll never forget the stench.

None of us will.

“Stepha’s coming,” Syrine warned them. “Guard your thoughts.”

Ignoring the urge to flinch and whirl around, Aelyx leisurely turned to face the ambassador, who crossed the steely corridor with exaggerated, slow steps.

Stepha smiled at them, but it didn’t reach his eyes, dulled by the malaise that plagued all the Elders. His ancient form stooped under the weight of lethargy, his words slow and deliberate when he droned, “I’ve had your luggage delivered to the main transport. Did you bring your student visas?”

Aelyx nodded, struggling to block his anxiety. It didn’t work. Stepha’s rheumy gaze caught with Aelyx’s and held.

Don’t be afraid, Stepha told him privately. Your human is a dedicated hostess. She’s already sent me several messages asking about your personal preferences.

Cara Sweeney wasn’t the root of Aelyx’s concern, but he was grateful that Stepha thought so. Aelyx would face exe­cution if the ambassador discovered his treachery, and he preferred to return home alive.

“How fortunate,” he replied aloud. Deception was impossible through Silent Speech.

“Before we board,” Stepha told the three of them, “I want to warn you that humans have unusual standards for sentimental expression. Try not to be offended by their ways. Integrating with them will be a challenge, but I know you’re fit for the task. You three are the finest in your Aegis. Remember that and be patient with your hosts and their peers. We’ll all benefit from an alliance, both humans and L’eihrs. Do you understand?”

They all nodded, avoiding one another’s eyes.

“Excellent.” Stepha swept his hand to indicate the boarding platform. “Then we’re ready.”

Aelyx glanced out the port window again. The sun had just begun to eclipse L’eihr in a brilliant pinprick of light that forced him to shield his eyes. Right now the Aegis would begin to stir, the communal washrooms filling with his yawning peers. Vero, the house pet, would awaken in an empty bunk and wonder where his master had gone. Would he remember Aelyx when the exchange was over? Probably not.

Syrine tapped his forearm, returning his attention to present company. She must have sensed his agitation. It was one of her many gifts.

We can do this, she promised, then gestured out the window and added, for them.

I know. After all, the sh’alear had been his idea, and when the rest of the Aegis had learned of his plan, they’d declared him a hero. But that didn’t mean Aelyx looked forward to spending eight months on Earth among savage aliens. He shook his head and glanced once more at his home planet before assuring Syrine, You’re right. We can do this.

The two of them followed behind Eron and Stepha, making their way toward the main ship. The station was virtually empty at this early hour with the exception of a lone vendor peddling his wares near the boarding gate. A hiss of steam from the spaceport’s ventilation system punctuated the echo of clicking boots. Aelyx noticed the recycled air had a distinct odor to it, akin to the stale scent of H’alar cave, his favorite hiding spot as a child. How many hours had he and Eron spent exploring those narrow, frigid passages? Hundreds at least.

The memories sent a prickle of worry through his chest. Humans would ruin it, just as they’d destroyed so many of their own natural wonders. Mankind didn’t regulate their population growth as L’eihrs had done. Aelyx had studied human history. He knew what would happen if these aliens ever settled on his planet. Something American humans called “Manifest Destiny.” They’d take whatever suited them and outnumber the L’eihr within decades. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Here, brothers,” the vendor called to Aelyx and Eron. “You can’t travel to Earth without these!”

“I’m certain that I can,” Eron said with a laugh.

Aelyx glanced at the man dangling a black cord from his fist. A twinkling object reflected the overhead light, and upon closer inspection, he found the man had affixed a faceted ahib to the cord as some form of adornment.

“What’s this?” Aelyx asked him.

“A necklace.” The vendor brought the cord to his throat in demonstration. “I’ve heard that human females cannot resist shiny objects. They wear stones around their necks and even embed them into their ear flesh. If you buy this for your hostess’s Sh’ovah Day, you honor the Sacred Mother while presenting a fine gift to your human.”

Aelyx pressed his lips together to contain a smirk. He doubted a common pebble from beneath his feet would impress anyone. Not even humans were that foolish.

“It’s true,” Stepha said. “Stone jewelry is considered the preferred gift by many females, though they don’t observe Sh’ovah. Instead, they celebrate the anniversary of their birth.”

“Interesting,” Aelyx muttered. Perhaps he should bring a gift. It might give the impression that he cared. “I’ll give you thirteen credits.”

The man wasted no time in wrapping the necklace inside a fabric pouch. Aelyx extended his wrist for the vendor to deduct the credits, and after a quick scan of the data embed­ded beneath his skin, he pocketed his “treasure” and jogged to catch up with Eron and Syrine.

“Earth girls really covet stones from the ground?” Syrine asked in disbelief. “My human’s a male. I wonder if he’d enjoy a nice satchel of dirt.”

“Or perhaps a parcel of animal droppings,” Eron added with humor in his eyes. “What odd beings.”

As Stepha shuffled within earshot, Aelyx quickly changed the subject, asking Eron, “Is your l’ihan aboard this transport?”

“I wish,” he said. “But no. She’s assigned as medic on the—” Eron bit short his reply as Syrine broke into a sprint. Her boots rattled the metal grates beneath their feet, ponytail swinging between her shoulder blades as she left them behind.

“Fasha,” Aelyx swore, watching her disappear through the ship’s doors. Maybe Syrine’s affections for their roommate ran deeper than he’d thought. “She’s still upset about you and Elyx’a?”

Eron dropped his gaze. “They were friends once. I think that makes it worse.” He glanced up just long enough to add, “If you and I wanted the same female and she chose between us, I imagine we’d become enemies, too.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Aelyx had never felt that level of attachment for anyone. He elbowed Eron lightly in the ribs. “Perhaps I’d show mercy and simply let you have her.”

Eron laughed, but still he looked troubled. “Syrine cares for you,” he said as if probing for a reaction. “Maybe not the same way she feels for me, but you could—”

“Wait,” Aelyx interrupted. “Are you saying I should make her my l’ihan?”

“No! Well, perhaps. Just think about it. Sooner or later, we all have to choose. Why not her? You know the two of you are compatible.”

Why not Syrine? Aelyx couldn’t say with any degree of certainty. He simply didn’t see her that way. “First of all, you assume she’d have me as your substitute.”

“A poor one at that, but yes, I think she would.”

Aelyx shot him a burning look.

“And second?” Eron asked.

“It would feel unnatural. You might as well ask me to partner with a human.”

Eron shuddered and opened his mouth to speak when the ambassador interjected from behind, “Keep an open mind, brother. There are worse things The Way could ask of you.”

Aelyx gripped the icy railing with both hands, feeling his eyes widen to the size of sh’ad patties. His friends were right—the Elders had spent their wits. If he’d ever felt a moment’s hesitation about his plan, it was gone now. Aelyx closed his eyes and focused, slowing the rush of blood to his head and steadying his pulse. In a deceptively calm voice, he assured Stepha, “I will follow The Way to glorify Mother L’eihr.”