by Brenda Hiatt
Her voice trailed off. The pain I felt from her was nearly as strong as if it had just happened last week.
“I’m…I’m so sorry, Aunt Theresa. But it sounds like you did all you could. If your parents had only listened—”
“My mother didn’t see it that way. She blamed me for not keeping a closer eye on Janet, for not somehow preventing what happened. She…my parents… were never the same afterward. Mother went into a decline and died two years later. Father started drinking and eventually lost his business and our house.”
I knew which house it was. She’d pointed it out to me more than once—a beautiful Victorian mansion at least four times the size of ours, a block past the courthouse. The historical society owned it now and it housed the Jewel Chamber of Commerce.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I never knew.”
She shook her head, almost fiercely. “No. Of course not. Almost no one does. Father managed to hush up the truth about the drinking and the boys—he was still quite a prominent citizen back then. Most believe to this day that my sister was a completely innocent victim. The…the whole town mourned her.”
I tried to imagine how Aunt Theresa must have felt back then, only a year older than I was now. It wasn’t easy, but sensing her emotions helped.
“So that’s why you were always so strict with me? So I…wouldn’t end up like your sister?” It did sort of make sense now.
She nodded. “That’s what I told myself. And Louie. After seeing what my sister’s death did to my parents, I was secretly relieved when it turned out Louie and I were unable to have children. Not that I could admit that to anyone, even when they pitied me. Choosing to remain childless simply…wasn’t done, you see. Not in Jewel, not back then.”
“And then I was suddenly left on your hands.”
No wonder she’d never acted like she wanted me around. She really hadn’t. Though it hurt to have that confirmed after suspecting it all these years, I was glad to finally learn why. It helped a little.
“Yes. At first—for quite a while, actually—I considered your being orphaned a cruel trick of fate. My punishment for being happy not to have children of my own. I realize now, with the distance of years, how terribly unfair that was to you, especially when you’d so recently lost your second set of parents. Any normal woman would have felt sorry for you, smothered you with attention, given you anything you wanted.”
My aunt pressed her lips together for a moment before continuing.
“But whenever I was tempted to give in to sentiment, I would remember Janet. She had green eyes too, though not so green as yours. So when you would look up at me, pleading for some treat or even a hug, I’d think of how Janet used to wheedle our mother into giving her whatever she wanted—and how terribly that turned out.”
She lapsed into silence. Thinking over all she’d just told me, I realized that in a twisted sort of way her strictness, even her coldness toward me, had been out of genuine concern.
“Thank you for telling me, Aunt Theresa. I…I get it now.”
“Do you?” The plea in her faded gray eyes startled me. “I should have realized years ago that you were nothing like Janet, but by then old habits… And now, to learn you were so important all along, a princess! How you must resent the way I’ve treated you all these years.”
I had, of course. Lots of times. But now I said, “You didn’t know. How could you, when I didn’t even know? Anyway, that’s all in the past now, right?”
“Will you…can you forgive me, then? I’ve had to face things about myself these past few days that I…don’t particularly like. I truly want to do better by you in the future, and not only because of…of who you really are.”
“Of course I forgive you.”
I wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly we were hugging, really hugging, in a way I couldn’t remember ever doing in all the years she’d been my aunt. It felt…
Well, okay, weird.
But also wonderful.
11
Refraction
IT was maybe an hour later—the game must have been well into the fourth quarter by then—when I heard Mr. Farmer shouting. Exchanging a quick glance with Aunt Theresa, I jumped up and hurried to the door to listen. Had Rigel somehow figured out where I was after all—?
“You gotta be kidding me, Bryce! That’s impossible. I saw how that kid played last year. How can he be doing even better without his alien girlfriend there?”
Straining my Martian hearing for all it was worth, I could just make out Bryce’s voice on the other end.
“I should’ve known everything you told me was nuts, no matter how much I wanted to believe it. You’ve still got her there, right? Well, Jewel’s ahead by forty-seven points, so they’re running a continuous clock. Stuart hasn’t missed a single pass, hasn’t been sacked once, and has more yards rushing than all the other players on both teams put together. Face it, Dad, this was just another one of your crackpot conspiracy fantasies.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, boy!” Mr. Farmer thundered. “One of these days you’ll see I was right all along—about everything! Now get yourself out here and help me deal with—”
“No way, Dad! I’m done. I want nothing to do with whatever you’re planning—and if you end up in jail again over this, I’m not bailing you out this time.”
“Bryce! Bryce!” But apparently his son had already hung up.
Mr. Farmer started swearing so loudly even Aunt Theresa could hear him. It sounded like he was getting angrier and angrier the longer he went on. And he was heading our way.
I quickly retreated to my aunt’s side. “He’s coming, and he’s pissed.”
“Then your…Rigel Stuart…wasn’t able to play well without you there after all?”
“Just the opposite. Sounds like he had the game of his life and Mr. Farmer’s not happy about it. Just a sec…”
Rigel! I sent urgently. Are you there?
M! You sound really scared. What’s going on?
You’d better send help after all—right away! I think Mr. Farmer’s about to lose it, and I don’t know what he might be capable of. We’re at the Bulls-Eye Whitetail Ranch, a couple miles northeast of the school, shut in the meat cooler. Is the game over yet?
Last few seconds counting down now…and there’s the whistle.
Good! Tell your parents, the O’Garas, Cormac, everybody you can, to get here as soon as— Crap, he’s coming in!
Aunt Theresa had scrambled to her feet, too, at the sound of Mr. Farmer unlocking the cooler door.
“I just activated my tracker,” I whispered to her. “Help should be coming soon. Meanwhile, let’s try to calm him down. Keep him talking, buy some time.”
Before she could respond, the steel door swung open. When I saw Mr. Farmer’s face, I knew I hadn’t messaged Rigel a moment too soon. His eyes were wide and crazed, his face scarlet with the fury that radiated from him.
“How did you do it?” he yelled at me. “You must have something I missed, some long-distance alien gizmo or power you used from here. There’s no other way—!”
“What happened, Mr. Farmer? I promise, we haven’t done anything at all. How could we, from in here?” Pulling Aunt Theresa with me, I backed well out of arm’s reach—though not out of reach of the gun he was holding.
“Stuart…Bryce said…even without you there…”
He was so upset he was having trouble getting the words out. I sensed almost equal parts unreasoning fury and frustration—not much I could work with. I tried anyway.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed, Mr. Farmer. I’m sure whatever you heard my uncle saying last night must have made it sound like—”
“Sound like, nothing! He flat-out said you’re an alien. A Martian. Stuart too. No matter how you try to twist it, I heard what I heard. Now tell me how you did it!”
“Did what, Mr. Farmer? What is it you think I did? I’ll…I’ll try to undo it, whatever it is, if you think it might help.”
He glared at me, taking a step forward. “You can’t undo it, it’s too late for that. Bryce told me Stuart played football like some NFL all-star tonight. I just want to know how?”
Swallowing, I shrugged, inching backward some more. “He’s just…a really good football player. That was true even before he came to Jewel. I wish I could take credit, but I can’t. Any more than I can take credit—or blame—for anything my Uncle Louie says when he’s had a few beers. He’s always liked to tell wild stories and…and play practical jokes on his friends. He was probably just messing with them last night.”
I kept my voice as calm as I could, projecting every bit of “push” at him I could muster, willing him to believe me, to relax. I’d made it work on Sean and Rigel last year, when they’d both been spoiling for a fight…
Incredibly, it started to work now, too—at least a little. Mr. Farmer was still furious but uncertainty began to creep in, dulling the edge of his anger.
“You’re saying it was a joke? Why? Because he knew I was listening? Knew I—?”
“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you, Mr. Farmer. He probably just wanted to laugh at his buddies if they bought into his story. He…he does stuff like that all the time. Really.” If I could just keep him talking until Rigel and the others got here…
“She’s right,” Aunt Theresa unexpectedly chimed in, doing her best to sound as reasonable as I had, though I could tell she was still terrified. “My husband has always been prone to…to exaggeration, even fabrication. Particularly when he’s been drinking. It…it pains me to admit it, but it would be just like him to make up a story like the one you apparently overheard last night.”
“It’s true, Mr. Farmer,” I quickly agreed. “He, um, even tries to convince customers at the car lot that he used to be a race car driver. Or a, uh, movie star.” Unfortunately, I wasn’t as good at this sort of thing as Molly. My words sounded lame even to me.
Mr. Farmer was still glowering but I felt his anger recede slightly as uncertainty and embarrassment crept in. He didn’t lower the gun, though.
“Can’t say I know Louie Truitt all that well, but he shouldn’t lie to people like that, especially about something this important. It ain’t right.”
“No. No, it’s not,” Aunt Theresa agreed emphatically. “By now, most of his friends know better than to take everything he says at face value. As you don’t know him well, it’s understandable how you might have been misled.”
“You didn’t hear him. He really sounded like he meant it.”
“I’m sure he did. He can be very convincing.”
There was a brief silence, then I tentatively said, “Now that you realize what happened, Mr. Farmer, will you please let my aunt take me home? We’re sure to have been missed by now.”
“What, so you can tell the police? Spread it all over town how I was hoodwinked?”
“No, we won’t tell anybody,” I assured him, using my “push” again. “Please, just let us go!”
For a moment he hesitated, then shook his head. “It’s too risky. But if you told people you were coming here, I better take you someplace else before I— Come on, outside. Now.”
He backed out of the cooler, gesturing with the gun for us to follow. We’d only taken a few steps into the blessedly warmer store when several car doors suddenly slammed outside. Immediately, Mr. Farmer wheeled to face the outer door, swinging the pistol around with him.
“Who’s out there? Did you somehow call the cops anyway?”
“Of course not!” I exclaimed. “How could we?”
Then urgently, to Rigel, Is that you? He just let us out of the meat locker but he’s got a gun. I glanced at the racks of rifles along the walls and another leaning against the door frame—probably loaded. Lots of guns! Tell everybody to be really careful—and to not say anything incriminating.
Got it, he sent back.
“Then who—?” Mr. Farmer glared suspiciously at my aunt and me, then back at the door. He apparently noticed the rifle then, too, because he took two quick steps toward it.
Just then the door slammed open and Rigel, still in his football jersey, burst through, Cormac right behind him. An instant later they were followed by Rigel’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara, Sean, Molly, and, amazingly, my Uncle Louie.
“Wait!” My command, strengthened by my Royal “push,” was aimed at all of them, Mr. Farmer included. To my surprise, every single one of them froze in their tracks.
I ran forward to put a hand on Mr. Farmer’s arm, though not the one that held the gun, since I didn’t want to startle him into pulling the trigger while it was pointing at Rigel. My touch must have given him a static shock, though, because he flinched, then swung around to stare at me, his eyes wide.
“So it’s true after all! You almost had me convinced it wasn’t, with your…your alien mind control, but—”
“Of course it’s not true, Mr. Farmer,” I said, desperation marring the calm I was trying to project. “These are my friends, who knew I was coming here. I’m sure they just got worried when I didn’t show up at the game, like I said they would. Right, guys?”
The Stuarts and O’Garas nodded immediately. Rigel and Cormac still looked ready to tackle Mr. Farmer, but catching my eye, they finally nodded, too.
Amazingly, Uncle Louie was the first to speak. “Hey, Ted, what’s with the gun? Don’t tell me you believed all that stuff I was telling the guys last night at Green’s, about aliens?”
He stepped forward, actually shouldering Rigel and Cormac aside to get between them and the pistol. My uncle’s face was a little paler than usual, but he otherwise did a surprisingly good job of hiding the fear he broadcast to me.
“Look, I’m really sorry if you took that story the wrong way. Guess you didn’t hear the setup, huh? It was just an idea for a TV show I was planning to send to a guy I met last month—a guy who stopped by the car lot—who works for a studio out in California. I had the details all worked out, though of course I’d have changed the names and all. I just used Marsha here as an example. My buddies thought it sounded stupid, though, so I probably won’t bother writing it all up after all.”
Keeping my hand on Mr. Farmer’s arm, I forced enthusiasm into my voice. “I think you still should, Uncle Louie! Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a hit.”
Again, uncertainty warred with Mr. Farmer’s fear and anger—but then he violently shook his head.
“I don’t buy it.” Gripping his gun more tightly, he glared around at all of us, eyes narrowed. “No. I think you’re all aliens, every one of you, here to shut me up. But I won’t shut up! Not unless you kill me. And you won’t do that without me taking at least one of you with me—starting with your queen, here. The world needs to know the truth!”
He tried to pull out of my grasp, to turn the gun on me, but he’d barely moved when Rigel darted forward with incredible speed to put his hand on top of mine still gripping Mr. Farmer’s left arm. The resulting electrical jolt caused Mr. Farmer’s eyes to go super wide for an instant, then he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Now Rigel wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders, relief flooding us both—to be immediately followed by a whole different worry.
“We didn’t…didn’t…” I began.
Swiftly, Dr. Stuart knelt by Mr. Farmer’s sprawled form to check the pulse at his throat. “No. He’s merely stunned. That was…very quick thinking, Rigel.”
“It was indeed,” Cormac agreed, removing the gun from Mr. Farmer’s hand. “Excellency, are you unharmed?”
I nodded. “Aunt Theresa and I nearly had him convinced it was all just a wild story of Uncle Louie’s, but he still wasn’t willing to let us go. In fact…I think he might have been about to silence us both for good. He’s pretty obviously nuts.”
“Indeed,” said Mr. O’Gara. “But he clearly learned at least part of the truth. From you, I presume?” He regarded Uncle Louie with a raised brow.
Shamefaced now, Uncle Louie nodded. “Yeah. T
his whole thing is my fault. Marsha told me a dozen times how important it was to keep everything secret, but it all just seemed so…cool, you know? I figured with the way these new folks are already starting to prop up Jewel’s economy, people wouldn’t mind if they happened to be, um, aliens. I never thought anyone would—” He broke off at everyone’s stares, dropping his eyes.
“I, um, get it now,” he mumbled. “Telling my buddies was really, really dumb—even though they didn’t believe me. You two could have…could have been killed.” He sent an apologetic, pleading look at Aunt Theresa.
“You never do think ahead, Louie,” she snapped, clearly not in a forgiving mood just yet. “How many times have I told you—”
I interrupted before she could launch into full lecture mode. “We can talk about this when we get home, okay? Right now, we need to decide what to do about Mr. Farmer before he wakes up. Can we…make him forget all this?”
Dr. Stuart stood from where she’d still been kneeling next to him. “I’m not a trained Mind Healer, nor do I have the equipment necessary for memory erasure. However, I do have something in my bag that will make his recollections of the past day or two extremely fuzzy. Even if he eventually manages to piece together his recent experiences, I can’t imagine he’ll convince anyone else to believe him.”
“That should work,” I said. “Even Bryce thinks his dad is a crackpot. I heard him say so on the phone.”
“Yes, it’s been common knowledge for a long time that Ted Farmer has…issues,” Aunt Theresa agreed. “Not that that in any way excuses what my husband did.”
The look she shot Uncle Louie made him redden. There was going to be one heck of a reckoning when they got home, no doubt about it.
Rigel still had his arm around me. “You positive you’re okay?” he murmured when his mom went back out to the car for her medical bag.