Ben Archer and the Alien Skill (The Alien Skill Series, Book 2): Sci-Fi Adventure for Teens

by Rae Knightly

  Wake up!

  Ben’s eyes fluttered open. He rolled to his side, breathing heavily. He reached out to his bedlamp, but just as he flicked on the switch, he thought he saw a bluish halo around his hand. He blinked several times, now wide awake. He shut off the light again and stared at his hand; of course, it was normal. He leaned back into his pillow, switched on the light again, and took in the normalcy of his bedroom: a desk with a chair, a window with dark-blue curtains, a beige carpet, a bed with a thick, dark-brown duvet which he had half kicked off.

  And Tike, who was staring at him with his tongue lolling from his place beside the nightstand. The white-and-brown terrier placed his paws on the side of the bed to lick his face.

  Ben scratched the dog’s ears absentmindedly. Was he ever going to have a normal nights’ sleep again?

  The blue filaments of his dream followed him as he got up, showered and dressed. A lump of fear grew in his throat, and he knew why: a second before waking, he had glimpsed the poison exiting his heart and spreading to the rest of his body.

  It was too late, of course. The alien girl had infected him with the alien skill just over three months ago. Every cell of his body would have absorbed it by now.

  Ben remembered Mesmo’s words when he had asked him, “What if I don't want it?”

  Mesmo had replied, “That question is irrelevant. It is part of you now. You should be happy.”

  Only, he wasn’t.

  Too much had happened for him to think about it much, but as soon as Mesmo confirmed the alien element was part of him, a terrifying thought dawned on him.

  I am no longer entirely human.

  Ben knew, with unspoken certainty, that with every passing day, the infection was making him less and less human, and more and more alien.

  * * *

  Tike didn’t seem affected by Ben’s mood. He scampered down the stairs and headed to the kitchen.

  As Ben followed him, a man's voice reached his ears. He remembered that his mother had started a new job at a local Tim Horton’s that morning, so the man was apparently talking on his cell phone. This was confirmed as soon as he entered the kitchen and found Thomas Nombeko sipping a cup of coffee with the phone stuck to his ear. The dark-skinned man thrust a couple of fingers in the air as a matter of greeting without letting go of the cup as he continued to speak.

  Ben slipped into the chair of a small breakfast table and was about to reach for a slice of bread when he saw his mother’s note: “Dear Ben, Enjoy your first day at school. Love, Mom.”

  He smiled, thanking his mother silently for her soothing words. They made him feel less alone. He grabbed the pen that she had used and wrote. “Thanks, Mom. Enjoy your first day at work. Love, B.” She had left at dawn, so he knew she would be back before him and would read the message on her return.

  By the time he had spread peanut butter on his bread, Thomas had hung up and grinned at him. “Hey, kiddo! How did you sleep?”

  “Fine, thanks,” Ben answered automatically, reacting to the man’s contagious smile, then remembering the dream. He swallowed the piece of bread through the lump in his throat.

  Thomas sighed, a worried look passing briefly through his eyes. “That was work,” he said, waving the cell phone at him. “They're asking me to fly a doctor to a town up north. Some kind of medical emergency.” He put the phone away in his back pocket as he shook his head. “I promised your mom I'd take you in on your first day of school. You know, to show you around and all that. But now this came up…”

  Ben studied his host’s genuinely concerned face and said hurriedly, “It’s ok. I can manage. I know what a school looks like.” He tried to sound sincere, but an image of his old school and the two bullies, Peter and Mason, flickered through his mind.

  He could tell that Thomas wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. I promised your mom. Plus, we want to be able to face any awkward questions together.” He bit his inner lip while he thought. “You could start tomorrow instead.”

  Ben considered this for a moment. Facing a whole class of new students did not sound particularly inviting, but spending a day alone with his thoughts was even less so. He breathed deeply to give himself courage.

  Might as well get it over with.

  “No, it’s ok, really. You already took care of the administrative stuff, right?” When Thomas nodded, Ben continued, “So it’s fine. I’m almost thirteen, you know? I’ll find my way around. And if they ask anything, I’ll tell them to contact you.”

  Thomas placed his empty cup in the dishwasher and beamed. “All right, kiddo. Gotta get those neurons working, eh?” He chuckled warmly as he headed out of the kitchen.

  In the short week they had spent with the forty-three-year-old man, Ben had learned that their kind host was never one to worry for too long. He hoped the man’s positive attitude would brush off on him. As a witness of The Cosmic Fall, who had had to give up his job as a postal worker in the town of Chilliwack and who had had to flee government intrusion by moving east to begin a new life, Ben considered that Thomas Nombeko had done quite well for himself.

  After swooping Ben, Laura, Mesmo and Tike off Susan Pickering’s island, Thomas had explained how he had been taking intensive flying lessons in Chilliwack before his life was turned upside down by the events that took place there. Yet, The Cosmic Fall had ultimately allowed him to fulfil his life-long dream of becoming a pilot. He had ended up in the small town of Canmore, on the edge of the Canadian Rocky Mountains in the Province of Alberta, where the local Canmore Air Company was swift to hire him after he proved his flying skills. Ben laughed inwardly as he remembered the panicked look on Mesmo’s face at the words “flying skills” while the hydroplane took them low along the West Coast to escape radar detection.

  Thomas appeared in the kitchen doorway, covered in a thick, knee-length winter jacket, gloves and knitted hat. “Are you done with that yet?” he said, pulling Ben out of his thoughts and indicating his half-eaten piece of bread. “We have to get going.”

  Ben blinked, stuffing the rest in his mouth. “Wha’? A’ready?” He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still early.

  Thomas burst into laughter, showing his pearl-white teeth. “Have you looked outside yet, kiddo?”

  Ben gulped down his milk and placed the cup in the dishwasher, glancing through the kitchen window as he did so. Everything was white.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed, understanding Thomas’ hurry.

  “Yes, ‘oh’ is right.” Thomas chuckled. “I’m going to need your help clearing the car out of the driveway. The sky dumped six inches of snow on us during the night. You’d better get used to it. They say we’re headed into an unusually cold winter.”

  Ben opened the fridge door hurriedly. “Ok, give me a minute, I’ll be right out.” He’d forgotten he’d need to make his lunch. This going-back-to-school business was going to take some getting used to. He suddenly felt like he’d been thrown through a hurricane these past months and hadn’t quite landed on his feet yet.

  Inside the fridge were several small plastic containers with food in them and a post-it with a smiley face drawn on it. Ben felt a rush of warmth as he took out the neatly packed lunch.

  “Thanks, Mom,” he said to himself with a smile.

  He placed everything in a backpack Thomas had lent him, then rushed to the front door before realizing he still had to put on his snow gear.

  Sure, it snowed back west where he came from, but it only felt like yesterday since he had been spending his summer vacation at his grandfather's house. Now he was suddenly thrust into sub-zero temperatures and needed to think in terms of dark, gloomy days. He felt a pang of worry as he imagined himself sitting for hours in a new classroom while he tried not to think about everything that had happened to him, and everything that could still happen. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on pulling on his snow boots, warm jacket, scarf and gloves.

  “C’mon, Tike,” he said to the dog as he heaved his backpack on his shoulder.
Leaving Tike behind did not even cross Ben’s mind.

  He opened the front door and was greeted with a street lined with townhouses, parked cars and snow-covered walkways. The snow removal trucks had already cleared most of the town, but Ben could tell that people were driving with care.

  Thomas handed him a second snow shovel and both set to work clearing the driveway in front of the car. When they settled in it, Thomas exclaimed, “Hang on a minute! I can’t take Tike to work with me.”

  “He’s coming with me,” Ben interjected, to which Thomas raised an eyebrow. Ben glared at him to show him that that was the end of the discussion.

  Thomas shrugged. “Fine by me,” he said as he moved the car into the street. “Just remember it’s a twenty-minute walk if they send you home. There’s a bus, too. It’s line twenty-five. You can take it when school lets out. The school said it's only three bus stops to my place.” He pointed out some street names and landmarks so Ben could find his way back.

  Finally, Thomas parked opposite the Lawrence Grassi Middle School. It was a large, low-lying building with an extensive, snow-covered playground around it. Children made their way to the main door, often stopping to throw a snowball at their friends.

  “This is it,” Thomas said in a low voice.

  Ben figured he was scanning the surroundings to make sure everything was safe. He felt a small shiver run down his spine.

  Thomas turned to him with genuine concern in his eyes. “Will you be okay?”

  Ben nodded bravely. He picked up his backpack and got out of the car, managing a small “Thanks.”

  “Hey, kiddo,” Thomas said urgently as Tike jumped out of the car after the boy. Ben bent his head to look at the man in the driver’s seat. “What’s your name?” Thomas asked.

  Ben frowned at the question. “Benjamin Arch…” He began, then froze, his eyes going wide. He bent his knees, not so much to be at eye-level with Thomas, but rather because his legs had gone weak.

  I almost fell for it!

  “It’s Ben Anderson,” he said with a strained voice.

  CHAPTER 3 The Declaration

  Ben gazed at Thomas, repeating to himself, “Ben Anderson, Ben Anderson…”

  Thomas nodded tensely. “Ben Anderson. Not Benjamin Archer. This is important: it’s the name I registered you under.” He warned. “Don’t forget.”

  Ben could tell Thomas was hesitating to let him go, so he nodded, stood back and closed the car door swiftly.

  If I don’t do this today, I’ll never do it.

  He crossed the road with Tike at his heels, feeling Thomas’ gaze follow his every footstep. The lump in his throat magnified. How could he forget the story they had made up to cover their tracks and integrate into the town of Canmore?

  He played the conversation he had had with Laura, Mesmo and Thomas over in his mind so he wouldn’t forget any details.

  Thomas had suggested that Mesmo—whom they would call Jack Anderson—was his former colleague from back west. He had been laid off, so Thomas had offered him a job at Canmore Air. When Jack had accepted, he had brought his wife and son—Laura and Ben Anderson—to Canmore. Thomas was offering them a place to stay in his three-bedroom townhouse until the family could get back on their feet and find their own place to rent.

  Ben thought it was a brilliant plan. He couldn’t understand why his mother had gone crimson as she stuttered to find an alternative story. Did it bother her that much to pretend to be married to the alien?

  When Ben suggested Laura wear the ring his real father had given her before he was born, Thomas broke into a wide grin. “Excellent! That’s it, then. It’s settled Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”

  It had seemed pretty straightforward at the time, yet now that he was faced with reality, things suddenly felt a lot more complicated. He would have to watch every word that came out of his mouth. He had no choice. He knew that, although his mother wouldn’t admit it, they had run out of money. The secret services had frozen her accounts so all they had was whatever bills and coins they had on them. They would have to lay low until they could figure out the next step. With that in mind, Ben entered his new school and headed to the administration, though not before looking for a secluded spot behind the school where he settled Tike with a warm blanket and crackers.

  The curly-haired school receptionist peered at him as Ben said dutifully, “Hi, I’m a new student. My name is Ben Anderson. I’m in grade seven.”

  The woman broke into a smile. “Oh, welcome, Ben! We’ve been expecting you.” She glanced around behind him as if searching for something. “Did you come on your own?”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Yes, my mom had to go to work.”

  A look of sympathy crossed her face, though it was swiftly replaced by her smile. “Good on you, then, for taking the first step on your own. Now, let’s see, you’ll be in Ms. Amily Evans’ class. That’s in room 103. Let me get the Principal. She will want to take you there herself.”

  Ben opened his mouth to protest, but she disappeared into a side corridor, leaving him to wonder for the hundredth time whether he was ready for this.

  The school bell rang and a throng of noisy students filled the entrance behind him.

  The receptionist appeared several minutes later, followed by a petite woman with black, shoulder-length hair.

  “This is Ben Anderson,” the receptionist said, waving a hand at him. “He’s the new student for Ms. Evans’ class that Thomas helped register last week.” She turned to Ben and said, “Ben, this is Mrs. Linda Nguyen, our school Principal.”

  The Principal smiled, studying him with small, black eyes behind modern, black-rimmed glasses. “Hello, Ben. Welcome to Lawrence Grassi Middle School. I was looking forward to meeting you. Thomas says you’re a bright student.” She shook his hand firmly, gazing at him with sincerity. Ben immediately felt bad about having lied about who he really was.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to your class. You’ll be impatient to meet your new friends.” She led him down corridors covered in lockers which were stacked with winter clothes, chatting amiably about the amenities and after-school activities he could join. He was relieved that she didn’t ask him any questions about his background. He knew that Thomas had covered the details when he had registered Ben.

  A handful of late students hurried to their classrooms, greeting the Principal awkwardly as they passed. Mrs. Nguyen stopped in front of room 103. Once Ben had removed his winter clothes, she knocked before entering.

  Ben’s heart did a double flip as she ushered him inside. Twenty-four pair of eyes turned to look at him. He fully expected to be greeted by cold stares and sneering whispers.

  “Good morning, class,” Mrs. Nguyen said. “This is Ben Anderson. He’ll be joining you as of today. I trust you will make him feel at home.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. She nodded towards the teacher. “I’ll leave you to it, Amily.” She patted Ben lightly on the shoulder, before closing the door behind her.

  Ben’s teacher stood up from her desk and headed towards him. She had very short, brown hair and a youthful face. Her slim neck stuck out of a turtleneck sweater of a gray-blue colour. Ben liked her as soon as her mouth widened into a smile.

  “Hi, Ben,” she said. “I’m Ms. Amily Evans, your seventh-grade teacher. We’re glad to see a new face around here, aren’t we class?”

  A wave of giggles reached Ben, though he found they weren’t of a mocking kind. Some hands waved at him, and he heard a couple of Hi, Bens.

  “Let’s find you a seat.” Ms. Evans said, searching the room. Multiple hands shot in the air as several students shouted, “Over here!” One chubby boy in particular waved his hand wildly above his head. There was a free seat next to him by the window, on the opposite side of the classroom.

  Ms. Evans placed a soft hand with long fingers on Ben’s shoulder, where the Principal had patted him reassuringly moments ago as if it was some kind of unspoken gesture of comfort used by the school personnel. “Hm, yes,” she said.
“How about you sit next to Max, by the window?”

  Ben nodded. He didn't trust using his voice yet. He made his way to his new spot, noticing the wide eyes and shy smiles from the other students on the way.

  They’re as nervous as I am!

  It was a surprising thought, and he felt a weight lift partially from his shoulders.

  They mustn’t get many new students around here…

  The realization struck him. He slid into his seat, feeling more relaxed by the minute. The bullying virus clearly hadn’t affected this classroom because he didn’t hear any jeering comments directed at him.

  “So, Ben, where are you joining us from?” Ms. Evans asked.

  Ben tensed in his seat.

  Here we go with the questions.

  “Um, Vancouver.”

  “Ah!” Ms. Evans exclaimed knowingly. “I bet it’s not as snowy as it is here yet!”

  Ben shook his head, smiling. It would be several weeks—even months—before snow reached the West Coast.

  Ms. Evans addressed the class. “It’s not easy changing schools in the middle of the year so I expect everyone to lend a hand if Ben needs it. Let’s show him some Canmore hospitality, all right?”

  There were many nods of agreement.

  “Ben, we have to get on with the class. Follow as best you can and come and see me during the first break please,” Ms. Evans instructed.

  Ben nodded, exhaling silently.

  This isn’t too bad, after all.

  * * *

  By the time the last hour of class began, Ben felt as though the day had gone by in a blur. A considerable amount of information had been dumped on him, though everyone—teachers and students alike—had reassured him that he could ask questions or come to them for help anytime.

  At lunch in the bright, roomy cafeteria, most of his classmates had hovered around him and fought about who would sit next to him. They had bombarded him with questions about his previous school and why he had moved to such a small town in the middle of the school year. Ben had fed them the story he had practiced with Thomas and Laura, though fortunately, they interrupted him so often that he hadn't gotten much of a chance to answer everything properly—which suited him fine.