Alienated

Chapter Ten

Cara snapped a square from her chocolate bar and held the bite inside her mouth, letting it melt slowly on her tongue. The flavor came gradually, build­ing into a rich, creamy sweetness and releasing a faint earthy aroma. She sighed with pleasure, opened her favorite novel—a tattered copy of Jane Eyre—and nestled deeper into the sofa cushions.

Before she’d finished the first page, Mom drifted into the room and settled at the other end of the sofa with one of those heavy sighs that said, I don’t want to bug you, but I’m going to keep making these little noises until you ask me what’s wrong.

So Cara cut to the chase. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Cara gave her mom a couple beats to change her mind, then reopened her book.

“It’s just . . .” Mom began.

Cara put her novel down with a sigh of her own. “It’s just what?”

“I think I’m being forced out of my own book club.”

“How does that happen?”

“Mindy Jordan keeps changing the meeting time and for­getting to e-mail me.”

Looked like Mom’s friends had stolen a move from the student government playbook. “That’s exactly what happened to Tori.”

Mom tucked a black curl behind one ear and made a sour face. “And they keep pushing to read that unedited fan-fiction book with all the spanking. They know how I feel about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Cara said, giving Mom a gentle nudge with her foot. “But you don’t want to hang out with people who treat you like that. You can do better.”

“I know.” Mom slumped back and rested her heels on the coffee table. “I just worry sometimes. I didn’t expect people to stay angry about Aelyx this long. He’s such a sweetheart. I just heard about a riot in Canada, of all places. Who riots in Canada?”

“Canadians?”

Mom didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. “You’re being careful at school, right?”

If careful meant antagonizing the student Patriots, then yes. “Really careful.”

“Good,” Mom said. “And by the way, SqueeTeen called again.”

“No interviews.” Between TV features, blogger e-mails, and now requests from magazines, Cara was feeling over­whelmed. Besides, it was really Aelyx they were after, not her.

“That’s what I told them.”

The doorbell rang, and Mom pushed off the sofa to answer it while Cara tugged open Jane Eyre.

“Mrs. Sweeney?” said a man’s low voice. “I’m Ron Johnson. This is my son, Marcus. Our kids go to Midtown High together.”

Cara dropped her book and sat up.

“Can we come in for a few minutes?” he asked. “It’s important.”

“Is there something wrong at school?”

“Yes, there sure is.”

Uh-oh. Marcus must’ve tattled to Daddy about the inci­dent a couple of days ago. Cara stood and crossed to the other side of the room.

She watched Ron step inside, followed by Marcus, and she caught herself rubbing her backside, remembering how hard she’d fallen before Aelyx had nearly punched Marcus’s arm out of its socket. She couldn’t believe Brandi was actually dat­ing this jerk. Reigning king or not, a seat on the homecoming court wasn’t worth swapping spit with Marcus Johnson.

Father and son had dressed identically in white button-down shirts and black ties paired with black slacks. Marcus’s hair had been neatly parted and slicked into submission. They looked like Mormon missionaries, minus the name tags and friendly smiles. Marcus slumped forward with both hands in his pockets and kept his eyes trained on the carpet.

Ron nodded a quick greeting to Cara. “Miss Sweeney, Marcus has something to say to you.” He elbowed his son in the ribs.

“My behavior the other day,” Marcus recited like a stiff, petulant child, “was not befitting a true Patriot of Earth. Please accept my sincere apology.”

Sincere her ass. But she’d say anything to get rid of these losers. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ron grinned and turned to her mom. “The kids had a misunderstanding.” He reached into his breast pocket and handed Mom a small pamphlet—the same one HALO mem­bers gave out at school. “But that’s not why I’m here. The government overstepped its bounds with this exchange pro­gram. A lot of us don’t want a L’eihr around our kids. It’s time to send him back where he belongs.”

“Oh.” Mom held up a hand. “We’re not—”

“Now, listen.” Ron darted a glance around the living room, wrinkling his nose. “I understand the money’s . . . tempting.” Translation: Clearly you schmucks are broke as a joke. “But let’s think of the whole community, not just what’s best for you.”

“Well, I think it’s a wonderf—”

“How could you bring him here without knowing any­thing about his kind?” Ron made himself at home, perching on the arm of the sofa while Marcus continued sulking by the front door. “I saw the interview. A total fluff piece! That idiot reporter had a chance to ask the boy about real issues, and she spent the whole time talking about his favorite food and how ‘advanced’ he is.” He made little air quotes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s working for the government.”

Oh, brother. Looked like this guy had a crazy sandwich for lunch—a footlong. Mom was too sweet to dropkick this jerk into next week, but Dad wasn’t. In the genetic lottery of life, Cara had scored two things from her father: flaming red hair and a temper to match.

“Hey, Dad,” she yelled down the hall. “Company!”

Ron turned his little weasel eyes on her. “And I can’t believe you let an alien sleep under the same roof as your daughter. He probably wants to breed with her. I’ve already heard some stories about those two . . .”

Cara’s head snapped up. “What?”

Dad strolled in from the hallway, rubbing his weary eyes. He’d just finished two back-to-back shifts, which meant epic sleep deprivation. Awesome.

“Look who’s here.” Cara used a pseudo-cheerful voice. “The Patriots of Earth!”

Dad groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not interested.”

“Just hear me out.” Ron didn’t give him a chance to object. “Our country’s gone to pot since the L’eihrs made contact. All that looting and rioting filled up our jails, so nobody’s enforc­ing the drug laws. Now there’s a dealer openly doing business a block from my house. You know what that does to property values?”

“The L’eihrs brought my wife back from the dead, and you think I give a damn about your property values?” Dad barked. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“But look at the ramifications of the cancer cure,” Ron said, foolishly refusing to budge. “Smoking’s increased three hundred percent, and don’t even get me started on the surge in chemical pesticide use.”

The whole room fell silent. Had this guy seriously com­plained about a universal cure for cancer?

All heads turned as Aelyx entered the room wearing a con­fused expression. He slipped a small gadget into his sweater pocket and glanced from person to person, narrowing his eyes when they settled on Marcus.

Dad hooked his thumb toward the back door. “You two go for a walk or something.”

In other words, he didn’t want their guest to witness the fury he was about to unleash.

Cara grabbed Aelyx’s sleeve and tugged him into the kitchen. “Hurry,” she whispered. “You don’t wanna be here when he explodes, trust me.”

As they scurried outside, she heard Ron’s hysterical voice calling, “He has a weapon! I saw him hide it in his sweater!”

What a lunatic. No wonder Marcus was so screwed up. Her dad’s voice boomed from inside the house. “I’ve got a Glock, a shovel, and five acres of woods, Johnson!”

The crackle and crunch of crusty dried leaves delighted Cara’s ears. She stomped through the windblown drifts like a child playing in a rain puddle.

“I love this sound. And the smell.” She raised her face to the sky and inhaled deeply through her nose. “The air’s so sweet this time of year.”

But Aelyx wasn’t listening. He leaned against a maple tree, engrossed in a handheld electronic game. A juvenile tune rang out from between his palms, followed by a computer­ized bark.

“Hey,” she said. “Is that Puppy Love?”

He glanced up with a pouty expression. “Something’s wrong with your game. My canine died again.”

“I haven’t played that since I was nine. Where’d you find it?”

“I don’t understand,” he said, ignoring her question. “I fed the thing, allotted a reasonable amount of time for exercise, kept it well-hydrated. Why did it die?”

“Let me see.” She leaned over his arm to study the screen. “Oh. You didn’t give him any love.”

“Love?”

“Yeah. I don’t remember all the options, but you do little things to love your puppy. Like letting him sleep in your bed, or rubbing his tummy, or giving him hugs and kisses.”

“Cah-ra, that’s absurd.” He turned off the game and shoved it back in his pocket. “All canines, even the ones humans have domesticated, respond to an intricate social hierarchy, not affection. I asserted my status as the alpha male so the animal would know its place. Then I gave it everything it needed to survive. It shouldn’t have died.”

“Um . . . it’s just a stupid game for little girls, Aelyx. My mom bought it for me because I’m allergic to real dogs. How long have you been playing it?”

He hesitated and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Three days. It’s the only game in your collection I haven’t mastered yet.”

“Well, it’s nice to know I can beat you at something.” Wav­ing him forward, she reached into her pocket for her half-eaten chocolate bar. She broke off a piece and handed it to him.

“What’s this?” He brought the brown square to his nose. “It smells musty.”

“It’s chocolate. You’ll love it.”

“That’s what you said about Skittles. I vomited a rainbow afterward.”

“True, but I was right about the pot roast, wasn’t I?”

With a dubious sideways glance, he popped the bite into his mouth. Seconds later, his face contorted in disgust, and he ran off the narrow trail to spit the chocolate onto the ground. “That’s horrible!”

“You can’t be serious. Chocolate’s the food of the gods.”

Aelyx wiped a hand across his mouth. “Not my gods.”

Cara laughed. “Do you worship gods on L’eihr?”

“Yes and no.” A yellow leaf spiraled into view and he caught it between two fingers, then paused to spit on the ground once more. “The Ancient Ones believed that L’eihr itself was the creator of all life—our Sacred Mother. Her chil­dren were the gods and goddesses of the weather, harvest, fertility, and so on. Like your Greek gods. But nobody really believes that anymore. Worship is more tradition than reli­gion for us, if that makes sense.”

“Total sense.” She shivered, rubbing her palms together to create warmth. “I’m getting chilly; let’s head back. The Johnsons are probably gone by now.”

“And you?” he asked. “What do you believe? I’m sorry, my research indicated this is a rude question, but you did ini­tiate the topic.”

She imagined him poring over books and electronic data to learn about her customs, and the mental picture made her smile.

“I don’t mind. I don’t go to mass that often, but I believe in God. A lot of people quit believing when your Voyagers showed up, because aliens aren’t mentioned in the Bible. But that kind of thinking doesn’t make sense to me. If you believe God’s powerful enough to create the Earth in seven days, then why can’t He create other worlds, too?”

Aelyx nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Anyway, churches all over the world are half empty now. Donations are down, and there’s a lot less compassion going around. Not that there was a ton to begin with. It’s kind of sad.”

A cool wind shook the trees, sending vibrant red foliage fluttering through the air. She gazed up in awe, despite the chill. It was beyond beautiful. “The colors amaze me every single year. I could look at these leaves for hours.”

“They’re not so bad. But for me, the real beauty’s down here.” He motioned to heaps of desiccated brown leaves car­peting the ground. “In the colors of home.”

A hint of wistfulness tugged at the edges of his full mouth, and she felt that same tug deep in her belly like an emotional sympathy pain. She reached out and plucked a curled brown leaf from its branch, then handed it to him. “Here, a small reminder of home. And better than the larun I tried to bake.”

He laughed and admired his gift, sliding it over his index finger like a ring. “This leaf would probably taste better than your bread.”

With a gasp, she shoved his shoulder and clutched her chest in mock outrage. He retaliated by bending down, scooping an armful of brown leaves, and tossing them into the air over her head. Cara darted to the ground, grabbed two handfuls of ammunition, and a full-blown leaf war erupted.

He darted among the trees, dodging her every attempt to nail him, until he tripped over a rotting log and fell backward. Heart leaping at her imminent victory, Cara dropped to her knees and used both hands to bury him up to his neck in foliage.

“I surrender.” Laughing, he rested both hands on his chest and fought for breath. His leather cord had come loose, and his long honey-brown locks spilled across the ground, tangled with debris.

Cara propped on her elbow beside him and pulled a twig from his hair. She’d just opened her mouth to gloat when a sudden movement caught her attention, and she glanced up to find Tori stomping toward them from the house.

Side-swept bangs concealed half of Tori’s face, but her one visible eye didn’t seem too pleased. Probably because she’d texted earlier about wanting to hang out, and Cara had asked for a rain check. Now here she was, romping in the woods with Aelyx. This couldn’t look good.

“Hey,” she whispered to Aelyx, “you mind heading back to the house? I’ll meet you inside in a few.”

He seemed to understand. “Sure.”

As Aelyx jogged away, Cara shot to her feet and began dusting herself off, then offered Tori a tentative grin. “I didn’t think you were coming over.”

“Yeah. ’Cause you were tired and you wanted to read.” Her gaze hardened and shifted to Aelyx, now entering the house. “Musta been a boring book.”

“No, I was reading, but then—”

“Looks like you wanna be alone with him.” With a flip of her hair, Tori spun and charged away like a power walker in peep-toe flats.

“Hold up!” She jogged after her best friend, who refused to slow her frantic pace."Wait, it’s not like that.” Cara grabbed Tori’s wrist, but she shook free. “I swear I really was reading, but then Marcus showed up—”

Tori whirled around, bringing Cara to a clumsy halt. “You’re into him.”

“Who, Marcus? He’s not my type.” Cara’s pathetic attempt to lighten the mood didn’t work.

“That’s the real reason you won’t quit the exchange.”

“We’re just friends, Tor.”

“He’s playing you. I hope you know that. When it’s too late and he’s wrecked your life, remember this moment”—she pointed at the grass—“right now, when I warned you.”

“Look, I know you’re not Aelyx’s biggest fan, but—”

“I don’t trust him, and neither should you.” Tori shifted her weight to one hip while studying the tips of her own toes. She fell silent for a few beats before asking, “Remember when I said Jared Lee might not ask me to prom because of all this?”

“Yeah. And I said you can do better.”

“Well, I decided to make a move and ask him myself.”

Tori’s darkening cheeks said it all. “Let me guess. It didn’t go well.” When Cara extended a tentative hand to comfort her friend, Tori shrugged back.

“He couldn’t get away from me fast enough. He kept looking over his shoulder like he didn’t want anyone to see us talking.”

“Then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Tori’s mahogany eyes locked with Cara’s. “Or maybe he knows Aelyx is hiding something, and he thinks I’m in on it. In that case, I wouldn’t wanna be seen with me, either.”

“Not this again.” This was why she hadn’t told Tori about Aelyx’s visits to the woods or catching him in the shed. She knew Tori would spin it into something sinister. “Look, I’ve been keeping an eye on him, and he’s really not—”

“No, you look.” Tori jabbed an index finger in the air. “I won’t hang around him anymore. So think about what that means.” Without another word, she stalked off to her Prius and climbed inside.

It’s either him or me. That’s what it meant.

Cara didn’t know this stranger masquerading as Tori Chavez. A lump the size of a tennis ball rose in her throat as she watched her oldest friend speed away. They’d fought before, many times, but never like this. Cara sank onto the front porch steps and rested her chin on her knees. She’d give Tori a day or two to cool off, then call and make things right. It would be okay. She had to believe that . . . despite the sick tingles forming in her stomach.