Alienated

Chapter Four

Aelyx felt a brief crush of claustrophobia when he entered the Sweeneys’ modest home. An oversize, overstuffed floral sofa dominated the living room, while a dark wooden coffee table claimed the remaining floor space. But it was the sixty-inch television mounted on the opposite wall that commanded the most attention. Dozens of family photos splayed outward from either side of the flat black screen like vines run amok.

Eileen Sweeney linked her arm through his again, and his muscles twitched from the contact. He wished she wouldn’t touch him so frequently, but to say so might be rude. He also wished Bill Sweeney would cease his endless prattle. Sacred Mother, when the man wasn’t speaking incessantly, he was practically copulating with his wife in public. During the flight from Manhattan, Bill and Eileen had rained kisses on each other nonstop. The ambassador had warned him about this, but still, were these humans incapable of self-control? Cara was the only member of the family to give him any peace.

“Your room’s down here.” Eileen pulled him through a short hallway. “I decorated it in the natural colors of L’eihr.”

When Aelyx stepped into his bedroom, the tension in his shoulders evaporated. Nothing, not even a single picture frame, adorned the freshly painted gray walls. A standard bed draped in beige stood opposite a simple chest of drawers. The space was open and uncluttered. Perfect. He set his duffel bag on the floor and sighed with relief.

“Mrs. Sweeney—”

“Eileen.” She smoothed a lock of hair behind one ear and smiled.

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

Beaming, she waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll let you unpack while I heat up the pizza.” Without another word, she left the room and closed the door.

Aelyx felt a quick pang of remorse for his harsh assump­tions about the Sweeneys, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He unzipped his bag and surveyed the clothing Colonel Rutter had provided for him. While he understood the importance of dressing to assimilate with humans, he’d worn the L’eihr uniform all his life. Parting with it felt abnor­mal, like shedding his skin. With a quiet groan, he changed into a pair of blue denim pants and a gray cotton shirt. Then he folded his uniform and brushed his fingertips against the smooth fabric before placing it in the chest of drawers with the other garments.

The scent of strange food began to permeate the air, and he wondered how he’d choke it down without retching. He’d practiced eating Earth fare, but he couldn’t tolerate the over­whelming flavors. Seasonings were used far too liberally here.

Aelyx let his mind wander back to L’eihr, to the tranquil mountains, the quiet companionship of his peers, and his favorite meal—tender, juicy meat braised with root vegeta­bles. But in the end, he knew reminiscing wasn’t helpful. He needed to focus on his mission—the sooner he achieved his goal, the sooner he could return home.

A nearby door slammed, and seconds later, the wall that divided his bedroom from Cara’s began thumping in time with her speakers. Cara’s voice sang out, far too muffled to interpret her words but clear enough to highlight her flagrant tone-deafness.

An involuntary smile curved Aelyx’s mouth. Leaping gods, there it was again—though he found nothing particularly entertaining about the girl, she’d already elicited this reaction in him several times, starting with the moment she’d removed her undergarments and revealed her bare, round bottom. Her skin was even paler than he’d thought possible, so translucent it practically illuminated the darkness, and he’d finally under­stood why humans called the act mooning.

He reached into his duffel and retrieved Cara’s photograph, studying the wide smile that parted her lips and crinkled the skin around her bright blue eyes. Those eyes hadn’t appeared as friendly today after the third time he’d defeated her in chess. He’d laughed then, too, and she hadn’t seemed to appreciate it.

From what he knew, Cara was a competitive student, the top in her class. Losing to him so consistently must have been torture. He considered allowing her to win a game or two but decided it wasn’t in her best interest. Besides, she wouldn’t believe the victory was genuine. She was only human, but brighter than most of her species. Maybe some coaching would help. At the very least, he should make an effort to show interest in her life. It would seem suspicious otherwise.

Yes, he’d seek her out and initiate dialogue ... as soon as he found the will to leave his bedroom.

With her fingertips poised above the keyboard, Cara slouched in front of her computer, feeling mocked by a half-blank screen. The cursor blinked at the top of the page with a clock’s rhythmic precision, teasing: tick-tock, you’re blocked, tick-tock, you’re blocked.

Writer’s block wasn’t the only problem. After arriving home, she’d rushed to her room to blog about the gala while each sensation from last night was still fresh in her memory. She wanted so badly to spin a riveting tale of meeting Aelyx for the first time, but what could she say? She’d mooned him before even shaking his hand.

And instead of charming her with stories of life on L’eihr, Aelyx had snubbed her for six hours of in-flight hell. The details of their budding friendship would’ve made such inter­esting reading ... if there were a friendship.

In reality, she didn’t have anything remotely pleasant to say. Aelyx was so strange. He refused to eat or drink anything but water, spoke only when asked a direct question, and the emptiness in his—albeit stunning—eyes gave her the shivers. Sharing that information with the world? Not the best idea. And she definitely wasn’t blogging about what an idiot she’d been during their layover at the airport.

To pass the time, she’d pulled a 3-in-1 magnetic travel game set from her backpack and challenged Aelyx to a game of chess. He’d won in less than five minutes—seriously, five minutes—even though he’d never played before. Completely shocked, not to mention pissed, she’d demanded a rematch, and with a smirk that practically said, As you wish, stupid human, he’d creamed her again, easily. Had she let it go? Of course not. There were other games to play: checkers, back­gammon, rock-paper-scissors. In the end, she’d left her dignity at Concourse B and boarded the plane in silence.

After shutting down her computer, she decided to see if Mom needed help with dinner. It wasn’t a service Cara usu­ally offered, but anything was better than staring at a blank screen. Well, anything except spending time with Aelyx. She peeked down at the end of the hallway and noticed his door was closed. He was probably still unpacking. Quiet as a nun, she stepped into the hall and tiptoed to the kitchen.

“Mom, is dinner almost—” She stopped short, grasping the doorframe for balance.

While a box of leftover Domino’s lay open on the counter, Mom stood wrapped in Dad’s arms, her cheek buried against his chest while her shoulders hiccupped with the silent quakes that came from too much crying.

Likely because of Troy. They only saw him once every couple of years now, and it always took Mom a week to recover when he left again. Not that the selfish jackass noticed or cared.

Cara stepped closer and patted Mom’s arm. “It’s only eight months, and then he gets to come home for a visit. It’ll go by fast.”

Mom’s voice sounded muffled when she said, “And then you’ll both leave.”

“That’ll go by fast, too.” Or at least Cara hoped so.

But there was no reasoning with Mom when she was like this. She mumbled something about wanting her family together under the same roof while Dad glanced at Cara and shook his head as if to say, Not now. He whispered in Mom’s ear, and they swayed together to the drone of the microwave.

Nodding, Cara turned and walked into the living room, but she didn’t expect to see Aelyx on the other side of the doorway. Her breath hitched, and she placed a shaky hand over her heart.

“Hello, Cah-ra.” He raised his hands in a nonthreatening gesture like a robbery victim. “Sorry to startle you.”

She noticed his clothes right away. Aelyx had finally stopped wearing his uniform, and she was shocked at how appealing he looked in jeans and a snug-fitting T-shirt. It almost compensated for his strangeness. Not quite, though.

“Don’t go in there.” She gently pushed him away from the kitchen, but his shoulder muscles tightened beneath her hand, and he jumped back as if her fingers were tipped with spikes. Whoa. What was his problem with physical contact? Did L’eihrs have too many nerve endings in their skin?

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

As if to erase her touch, he rubbed a hand over the top of his shirt. “Of course not.”

“It’s just, my mom’s upset.” Cara tipped her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “And when my dad tries to make her feel better, they usually end up kissing. A lot.”

He hesitated, eyes darting to the kitchen, clearly repulsed by the idea. A moment later, he gestured toward the living room. “Should we play chess while your parents . . . finish dinner?”

Losing to him for the forty-seventh time sounded about as enjoyable as bathing in sweaty gym socks, but she couldn’t think of a convincing excuse to get out of it. So she grabbed the chess game and set up the board on the coffee table, then knelt on the floor opposite Aelyx.

“You first.” He pointed at the board. “Your parents seem unusually affectionate, even for humans.”

Snorting a laugh, she moved a pawn two spaces forward. “Yeah. I hope you’ve got a strong stomach. It wasn’t always like this. Believe it or not, they used to be normal. Before Mom got sick.”

“Cancer, right?” He mirrored her move and she advanced another piece.

“Mmm-hmm. I guess it was a wake-up call. Dad was a hot mess. He spent all his time at the hospital with Mom and didn’t eat or sleep. Then Mom lost her job at the bank, and the insurance company dropped her.” Cara didn’t mention this, but it was a miracle the fire department hadn’t let Dad go, based on how much work he’d missed. Mom’s cancer had set the family back, but it could’ve been a lot worse. “That’s when I started waitressing.”

Aelyx captured her first pawn and rolled it between his fingers. “That’s terrible.” His expressionless eyes didn’t match his words, but at least he’d made an attempt to sound sympathetic.

“It was.” She moved her knight within range of his bishop as a lure, but he didn’t take the bait. “Especially when Troy left. Mom kept getting worse, and I don’t think he could stand feeling helpless, so he joined the Marines and deployed right away.”

“You were alone?”

“Sort of.” She thought about Eric and Tori, wondering how long she could delay their first meeting with Aelyx. “My boyfriend checked up on me, but he was just a friend back then. We didn’t start dating till Mom was better. And some­times my friend Tori brought me dinner. But other than that, yeah, I guess I was alone.”

Aelyx captured a third pawn and began stacking the pieces into a little tower. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay. On the bright side, I learned to pay bills, do laundry, cook for myself . . . well, kind of. I’m not a great cook.” Sucktacular was more like it.

While she took his first pawn, she worked up the nerve to ask a question, something she’d been dying to know for years. The problem was how to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound insulting. Clearing her throat, she leaned toward him and looked directly into his cold, steely eyes. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

He hesitated, obviously caught off guard, and then nod­ded with exaggerated slowness like he knew this wouldn’t be a casual, friendly sort of inquiry.

“The cure from the asheem—it’s permanent, right? Like, it’s not a trick that’ll wear off one day, is it?”

With a quiet sigh, he relaxed his posture and flashed a quasi-smile. “No.” He seemed so relieved that she wondered what kind of question he’d been expecting. “But if it were a trick, do you think I’d admit it?”

“Probably not.” Still, she believed him for some reason. Aelyx didn’t strike her as a very good liar. “Hope I didn’t offend you.”

“Not at all.” He snatched her rook off the board and replaced it with his knight. “I would have been skeptical, too.”

Well then, they had something in common.

They played in silence for several minutes, and then Aelyx made a careless move—he left his queen unprotected. For the first time, Cara felt hope that she might actually win. She paused to analyze the board, making sure it wasn’t a trap, and then took his queen with her bishop. Sweet victory seemed so close that her pulse began to quicken and she felt tingly all over. Who needed drugs when winning felt this good?

“Sure you want to do that?” Aelyx asked. “I’ll checkmate you in two moves.”

She was pretty sure he was bluffing but scanned the board one more time just to be safe. Aelyx shrugged a shoulder and pushed his rook forward five spaces.

“So tell me about your family,” she said while moving her next piece. “I’ll bet your parents are better behaved than mine.”

“Technically, they’ve been dead two thousand years. I was cloned from the archives.”

Cara froze in place, her hand still curled around the bishop. “Cloned? As in a genetic copy of someone else?”

“Yes, that’s typically how it works.”

“But what about the genetics program?” L’eihrs were known for their meticulous, organized breeding. Why would they want to clone people who lived thousands of years ago when they’d achieved so many advances since then?

Aelyx’s voice was guarded when he said, “Our geneticists terminated the program.”

“Why?”

“Because we all started growing tentacles.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Really?”

“No,” he said, totally deadpan. “Not really.”

Damn, she’d walked right into that one.

Smirking at her expression, Aelyx continued. “The pro­gram was deemed obsolete twenty years ago. It’s as simple as that.”

She wanted to ask why L’eihrs didn’t procreate the natural way, but the idea of discussing sex with Aelyx skeeved her out. “Does that mean everyone younger than twenty is a clone?”

He nodded, considering his next move.

“So you don’t have parents?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say! “I mean, you’re adopted—not that you don’t have parents.”

He studied her for a few moments, the expression on his face unreadable. “All citizens of L’eihr are my family.” His clipped tone told her the subject was closed, and to confirm it, he slammed his knight down like a gavel. “Checkmate.”

Her victory tingles morphed into the sick weight of disappointment. Not only had she lost—again—but their conversation had taken a hard right turn into Awkwardville. One thing was certain: she’d never complain about her par­ents to Aelyx again. Oh, boo-frickety-hoo, my mom and dad love each other too much. He’d probably kill to have that “problem.”

Uncertain of what to say, she slouched forward and cleared the board in silence.

A few minutes later, Dad leaned through the doorway and announced supper was ready. It was about time. She needed something to cover up the sour taste of defeat that lingered on her tongue.

They took their seats at the table, and Cara leaned over her plate to inhale the mingled scents of pepperoni and mozzarella—pure, greasy goodness from above. If anything could make her feel better, it was this. She leaned toward Aelyx and tried to lighten the mood.

“Prepare to have your taste buds rocked,” she told him. “The ambassador said L’eihr food is really simple, so you’re going to love this.”

“What is it?”

“Piiiii-zzzza,” she said reverently “Otherwise known as culinary Nirvana.”

He wrinkled his nose, casting a dubious glance at his slice.

“Trust me, it’s amazing.” She tapped a nail against the golden crust. “There’s bread on the bottom, then a layer of tomato sauce—that’s a vegetable, by the way—”

“Fruit,” Mom corrected.

“Yeah, yeah. Then it’s topped with cheese, which is made from cow’s milk. But the best part is pepperoni sausage.”

“And how is sausage made?” Aelyx asked.

Dad laughed dryly from across the table. “Ignorance is bliss in this case.”

“Just try it,” Cara prompted.

Aelyx gripped the slice with stiff fingers and held it away from his face for a few moments before lifting it to his mouth to pull free a tiny bite. He worked his jaw cautiously as he chewed, like the pizza might explode if he bit down too hard. Just when Cara expected his expression to transform in rapture, his eyes widened and began watering like he might get sick. Quick as a cobra strike, he snatched a napkin and pressed it to his lips while gagging and swallowing at the same time.

“Are you okay?” She shot a hand out to comfort him, then drew back, remembering how he’d reacted to her touch in the living room.

After swallowing hard a few times, he nodded.

“Wow, you really hate it.” Which was putting it mildly. The way Aelyx glared at his plate told Cara he wanted to tor­ture that pizza until it begged for death. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” She pushed away from the table and offered, “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“No!” He flashed his palm at her in desperation, napkin still clutched against the corner of his mouth. “Please, no more.”

“You have to eat something.”

“My supplements can sustain me for weeks.”

“Pills?” Cara asked. “You can’t live off pills.”

“Injectables, actually, and I can. For a while, at least.”

“Out of the question.” Part of her job was to keep Aelyx comfortable and happy, and no exchange student of hers would resort to freebasing nutrients. “There has to be some­thing you can handle, and I’m going to find it.”

Aelyx pulled the napkin free long enough to warn, “Your ‘culinary Nirvana’ was bad enough going down, Cah-ra. I don’t want to taste it again coming up, which is what will happen if you force anything else on me tonight.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”

Her cheeks heated as she realized pushing unfamiliar food on Aelyx was just as bad as not feeding him at all. The way his skin paled reminded her of the time Tori had double-dog-dared her to try raw oysters, which had looked exactly like mucus. Turned out they’d tasted like mucus, too. Cara had upchucked afterward, and the sight of those half-digested mollusks had spurred a pukefest that’d lasted the whole evening.

“You know what?” Cara said, sliding her plate aside. “I’m not hungry, either.” It was time to take her hostess swagger to the next level. “Let’s talk about something besides food. Tell me about your trip from L’eihr to Earth. How long did it take?”

For the next twenty minutes, Cara nodded intently, pre­tending to understand Aelyx’s tutorial on traveling at light speed and using wormholes as intergalactic shortcuts. By the time he finished, she was no closer to grasping the exact sci­ence of “space chronology,” as he called it, but at least his complexion had transformed from green to beige.

Mission accomplished.