Alienated

Chapter Twelve

After uploading her blog entry, Cara left the computer lab to join Aelyx at her locker. But she sensed that something wasn’t right. When she opened the metal door, its soft click echoed in the crowded hallway. Whispers had replaced the usually bois­terous conversations, and even the squeak and click of footsteps sounded subdued. Weird.

She turned to Aelyx. “Have you seen Tori? She skipped psychology, but I know she’s here.”

Tori had done a halfway decent job playing hide-and-don’t-seek, but Cara noticed her ducking into the stairwell after last period. And after yesterday’s creepy peeping incident at the nature preserve, she wanted to keep her friends close.

“No, but I typically don’t go looking for her.” He leaned against the next locker. “You seem upset. You all right?”

No, she wasn’t all right. Despite all the phone messages she’d left for Tori—including several 4giv me? texts—they hadn’t spoken in days. Cara brought her thumbnail to her mouth, but there was nothing left to nibble.

“Tori’s still pissed,” she said. “I canceled some plans last week, and she thinks it’s because I was hooking up with you.”

“She despises me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” When he raised one brow, she con­ceded. “Okay, she does, but only because she doesn’t know you like I do. But if—”

“There she is.” Aelyx nodded at something behind her. He flashed a weak smile and patted her shoulder consolingly, like he knew something she didn’t. It reminded her of the time Dad broke the news about Mom’s cancer. “I’ll wait here, in case you need me.”

A flutter tickled her chest as she spun around and spotted Tori leaning against the far wall, her hands wedged into the back pockets of her skintight jeans. Half the lacrosse team, including Eric and Marcus, huddled around her.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Cara slung her backpack over one shoulder and strode briskly toward the group.

When she stopped in front of them, it was Marcus, not Tori, who spoke first. “We need to talk, Sweeney.” He folded his arms and cocked his head to the side in the universal ges­ture of poseurs trying to look badass.

What a moron. No wonder she’d stolen his class rank so easily. “Come on, Tor, you can’t ignore me forever. Let’s go somewhere and talk, just us.”

But Tori didn’t budge. Instead, she studied the pointed tips of her platform ankle boots and mumbled, “Listen to what he has to say.”

Then something happened that sent Cara’s stomach dipping like a yo-yo. Eric took Tori’s hand and gave it a reas­suring squeeze. Eric and Tori. Touching. Does not compute. Tori’s mocha eyes widened, and she jerked her hand away while Eric ran his fingers through his hair, meeting Cara’s gaze just long enough to betray his guilt. Wait, guilt?

Eric and Tori—together? No, that couldn’t be right. Tori was hot for Jared Lee, not Eric. Tori hated Eric. Cara must’ve misinterpreted the signals, crossed some wires in her brain.

Marcus tore her away from her muddled thoughts for a moment. “We’ve been patient with your family so far—”

“Sure. If patient means spewing lies and propaganda and picketing my house every day, you’ve got the patience of a saint.”

A tiny muscle in Marcus’s temple twitched visibly beneath his ruddy skin, and she knew he’d love to reach out and choke someone—her.

She hooked a thumb toward Aelyx, still observing them from her locker. “Go ahead. Maybe he’ll snap your arm all the way off this time.” Was it just her imagination, or had Tori angled her body toward Eric’s? Their foreheads were barely six inches apart now.

“Until you send him home,” Marcus said, “none of our members will associate with your family in any way.” He slashed one hand through the air. “We’re talkin’ a total shutout.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day. Can you start ignoring me five minutes ago?”

Apparently, Marcus had reached his limit. After giving her a look that would melt the face off a frozen clock, he stalked away with his team, leaving Tori and Eric behind.

The two glanced at each other, cheeks flushing as they fidgeted with bag straps and belt loops. More importantly, Tori wasn’t flipping Eric the bird or cursing him out in Spanish.

Oh, God. They really were together. Her best friend and her ex.

Posters and banners went blurry. Air thickened until it was impossible to breathe. The nearby drone of a water fountain rattled her skull. It didn’t make sense—they’d always hated each other. And what about Jared? Unless . . .

A snippet of conversation flashed in Cara’s mind: I’m here to make sure you don’t let that carajo sweet-talk you into getting back together. Tori had mentioned that right after the breakup. People always said there was a thin line between love and hate. Had Tori’s and Eric’s anger been attraction in disguise? Was all that talk about Jared simply a diversion? And if that was the case, had Eric ever loved her at all?

With the passing of each silent second, Cara’s confident mask evaporated, leaving behind tiny beads of sweat along her upper lip.

“How long?” Cara’s voice trembled, and she swallowed hard. “Even before the breakup?”

“No!” Eric held both palms forward. “She started com­ing to the meetings. We talked a lot, mostly about you, and it sorta . . .”

“Just happened,” Tori finished, staring at the floor.

“Unh-uh.” Cara shook her head, trying to clear it like an Etch a Sketch. “A zit just happens. My best friend going after my ex doesn’t just happen.”

“Why do you care?” Eric pointed over her shoulder to Aelyx. “You moved on first!”

“No, I didn’t. But that’s got nothing to do with it.”

The boy she’d once loved was gone, and she’d accepted it. But even if she didn’t want Eric back, he’d hurt her. He was the enemy, and the Universal Girl Code stipulated friends should band together in hating the bastard till death.

“This explains your little transformation.” Cara swept her hand, indicating Tori’s haircut and makeup, including Gritty in Pink. How many times had Tori kissed Eric with that sto­len gloss on her lips? “And how you got over Jared so fast. Who are you?”

“This,” Tori said, tugging at her clothes, “had nothing to do with E.”

“Oh, gag! You’re calling him E now?”

“Maybe I just wanted someone to look at me the way Aelyx looks at you!”

“Right. Or maybe you—” A glint of gold on Tori’s low-cut blouse caught her eye, stopping Cara mid-rant. Angel wings. A slow fever scorched her face, her pulse thumping so hard she felt it in her earlobes.

All of HALO’s members—which now included Tori—would shun her. So, not only had Tori betrayed their trust, she was about to completely shut her out.

Love, laughter, six years of friendship. It was all over. Something sick and terrible swelled inside Cara’s chest, threat­ening to burst her apart. Tears prickled behind her eyes, and she knew she couldn’t hold it together much longer.

“Come on.” Tori’s own eyes welled with tears. “Don’t look at me like that. If you just quit the program, we can find a way to—”

“To what? Pick up where we left off?” No way in hell. Clearing the thickness in her throat, Cara scraped together just enough anger to strike back at them. “I hope he gives you whatever disease he picked up from the Ho Depot.”

The knife between her shoulder blades made it hard to turn around, but she did. And with her head held high, she strolled down the hall and out the front door as if her heart hadn’t just been pulverized, pureed, dumped onto the ground, and trampled by pigs. By the time she reached the parking lot, she was completely blinded by welling tears.

“Cah-ra!” Aelyx called out from behind, but she didn’t stop.

He caught her arm and gently turned her to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew this would happen.”

“What? You knew about Eric and Tori?” Was she the last to find out? Could this get any more embarrassing?

“Wait. They’re a couple?” He shook his blurry brown head. “I expected she’d end your friendship, but I never thought she’d partner with Eric.”

“I know, right?”

“Probably united by their hatred of me. I’m so sorry.”

“I just want to go home.”

He nodded and led her to the wooded path.

Aelyx rested his forehead against the wall he shared with Cara’s bedroom and cringed at her muffled sobs. During their walk home, he’d almost had her smiling again until they’d stepped through the back doorway and Eileen had said, “What’s wrong, Pepper? You look like you lost your best friend.” Cara had grieved without interruption ever since. Each sniffle and hitched breath stung his own lungs as if her pain were his own, but as much as he wanted to console her, he didn’t know how.

Frustration tightened his hands into fists. He was a L’eihr—cloned from the archives at the height of his species’ perfection. Surely he could think of a way to make Cara feel better.

Before he had a chance to brainstorm, his com-sphere called to him, emitting the low frequency only he could hear. He rushed to his dresser drawer, retrieved the device, and whispered his new passkey, “Elire.”

Syrine and Eron appeared before him, the former sitting with her legs tucked beneath her on a braided rug and the lat­ter crouched inside a porcelain bathtub, as usual.

“My sh’alear is working!” Syrine said, laughing and extend­ing her first two fingers in greeting. “Is yours?”

Aelyx nodded. After several trips into the forest to water and fertilize his seedling, he’d finally noticed the adjacent field of soybean crops beginning to wilt in response to the changes his native plant had enacted in the soil. When the familiar sensation of guilt overcame him, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the changes were only temporary. The crops would resume their regular activity after he uprooted the sh’alear and departed Earth. But it wouldn’t take long for humans to notice the anomalies and link them to the presence of each L’eihr exchange student, exactly as they’d intended.

“This year’s grapes should produce quite the unusual vin­tage,” Syrine gloated, looking happier than she had since leaving home.

Eron’s miniature forehead wrinkled. “What if we made a mistake?”

Aelyx felt his brows rise while Syrine recoiled as if she’d smelled something foul.

“Mistake?” she screeched. “Do you know what I discov­ered my human doing last night? Hiding a video camera in my bedroom! Fortunately, my electron-tracker alerted me before I’d removed any clothing. Or worse—contacted either of you.”

“Thank the gods,” Aelyx whispered. The lanky Frenchman truly did need a kick to the reproductive organs. Brandi Greene had continued pestering Aelyx with longing glances and secret smiles, but at least she didn’t invade his bedroom. Yet. “What changed your mind, Eron?”

“My family.” He caught himself and corrected, “My host family, I mean. They’ve made me one of their own. Especially the little one—Ming.”

“The one who wants to play alien invaders every day?” Aelyx asked.

A brilliant smile curved Eron’s mouth, so wide that it crinkled the skin around his eyes. “Families are only allowed one child here, but Ming was adopted after his parents died. He never thought he’d have a brother, but now he says he has one.” Eron shook his head as if in awe. “He calls me his brother.”

Aelyx didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t stop remem­bering how Cara had squared her shoulders and bravely confronted her peers earlier that day. She’d sacrificed every one of her relationships for him, and much like Eron’s host family, the Sweeneys had embraced Aelyx as their own. But that didn’t change the fact that the Sweeneys were the minor­ity among humans.

“We can’t let our emotional attachments get in the way of what’s best for L’eihr,” he told his friend. “Analyze your water samples. Look at what humans have done to their own planet. Now imagine what an entire colony of them would do to ours.”

“I agree,” Syrine announced without a shadow of doubt in her voice. “Eron, you know I’ve always admired your empa­thy.” When he nodded in response, she softened her tone in comfort. “We’re not like the Elders. Our emotions are vola­tile, but never forget what humans are capable of. Even if one shows potential, never forget the species as a whole is inferior. Watch and see how they react to the sh’alear. They’re already starting to notice—I’ve been searching their online discus­sions. Some of them believe the crops are wilting near us because we’ve angered their God. Humans have waged wars over less than this.”

“But maybe we’ve created a self-fulfilling prophecy,” Eron objected. “Set them up to fail.”

Syrine shook her head. “If they were truly evolved, they’d pass the test. Don’t you agree?”

Eron didn’t deny it, but Aelyx contributed to the argu­ment anyway. “I know our tactics are dishonest, but humans would rise to the occasion if they were capable. The Aegis agreed on this months ago. Are you going to be the one to tell them the plan’s changed? That you support the alliance now?”

“No,” Eron said, leaning back against the tile wall. “You’re probably right. It’s only—” A distant knock followed by a child’s voice interrupted Eron, who held two fingers forward in a hasty good-bye before shutting down his sphere and dis­appearing from view. Syrine gave a heavy sigh and followed.

A familiar pang throbbed beneath Aelyx’s breastbone. By now, he knew it well. Guilt, his constant companion.

If sabotaging the alliance was the right thing to do, why did it feel so wrong? His instincts told him it had something to do with the red-haired girl sobbing in the next room—Cara, or Elire, as he’d come to think of her. When he returned home, he’d leave her to face the consequences of his actions, alone against all those furious humans. He couldn’t deny that was wrong in every possible way.