Attack of the Alien Horde

by Robert Venditti

  “Hi, Henry.”

  If Miles had whipped his head around any faster, it would’ve fallen off his shoulders and spun across the cafeteria floor like a top. He gawked at Henry, who didn’t seem to care that the most gorgeous girl in existence was talking to him. He continued tapping at his phone, not bothering to glance up. “Hey, Josie. What’s up?”

  Josie wasn’t put off by Henry’s indifference, as though she knew him well enough to not take it personally. “My mom wanted me to tell you thanks for debugging her laptop. It’s running much faster now.”

  Still no eye contact from Henry. “No problem. If she ever has any trouble, she can give me a call.”

  A call? Miles should’ve been focusing on Josie, soaking in every detail of her smooth skin and large, dazzling eyes. Chances were he’d never be this close to her again. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Henry. Josie’s mom had his phone number? The thought of it was too surreal to put into words. It made wearing a cape and flying around the city seem as normal as a Sunday drive. The only thing that kept Miles from passing out in shock was knowing he’d end up facedown in a slice of sweaty pizza.

  Miles cleared his throat, but it failed to break Henry’s concentration. He cleared it again, louder.

  Henry frowned as he scrolled through the Gilded Group feed. Whatever he was reading, it had a stranglehold on his attention. “Take a drink, man. Sounds like you’ve got a tickle in your throat.”

  Miles barked again, and the sounded echoed off the cafeteria walls.

  Henry looked up at him with annoyance. “You coming down with something? Have a sip of water, will you?”

  Miles shifted his eyes furtively in Josie’s direction.

  “Oh, right!” Henry pronounced. “Sorry. Josie, this is my friend Miles Taylor. I met him in the bathroom.”

  Josie’s eyes popped wide. It took everything Miles had to not smack Henry on the forehead.

  “Miles, this is Josie Campobasso. We grew up down the street from each other. Our moms do a lot of volunteer work together.”

  Miles turned his head slowly, trying to act casual. When his eyes settled on Josie again, he let them linger. He’d been given permission to look at her, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.

  Josie flashed her pretty smile. “Hi.”

  Miles suddenly realized, to his sheer terror, he had not a clue what to say. “I go to school here,” he stammered. Ugh. Who deserved a forehead smack now?

  Josie cocked an eyebrow. “I kind of figured, you being in the cafeteria and all.”

  “Right.” Miles turned to Henry, looking for backup. If Henry could get a conversation going, Miles would take it from there. He just needed a little jump start. Henry was wrapped up in the phone again, though.

  Unfortunately, the worst possible person joined the conversation to fill Henry’s spot.

  “Hey, Camp-o-bass-o!” The Jammer sauntered over to Josie with Dude the Teammate at his side. The Jammer’s lunch tray was a Noah’s ark of food, piled high with two of everything on the menu. Miles supposed it took a lot of fuel to keep that mammoth body moving. “What’re you doing, Camp-o-bass-o?”

  Craig enunciated each syllable of Josie’s last name loudly, no doubt because he thought it was devastatingly charming. Miles wanted to devastate his face.

  Josie didn’t seem to find it all that charming either. “I’m about to eat.”

  “With twerp Taylor?” Craig seemed genuinely perplexed.

  Miles wanted to disappear. He’d rather be anywhere than here, made to look like a fool in front of Josie. Again. There wasn’t much point to Miles being present anyway. There was absolutely nothing he could do to defend himself.

  Face facts, Miles thought. Even with the cape, you’re still nothing.

  “Hey, Craig,” Henry piped up.

  Craig looked at Dude the Teammate and jabbed a thumb in Henry’s direction. “Do I know that kid?”

  “Dude.” Dude the Teammate shook his head, as though the thought of someone of the Jammer’s status being familiar with Henry was socially unethical.

  The Jammer turned back to Henry. “What’s up?”

  Henry smirked. “Mouth as big as yours, you think you can cram all that food in it at the same time?”

  The Jammer started forward like someone had hiked a football. “Listen here, lightweight.”

  Josie stepped in front of him. “Don’t mind him, Craig. Why don’t you find a place to sit, and I’ll come join you in a minute.”

  Beauty calmed the savage beast. “Sure thing, Camp-o-bass-o. I’ll leave just enough space next to me for you to squeeze in real close.” The Jammer headed off across the cafeteria. “Later, twerps.”

  Josie wheeled on Henry. “Seriously. What’s the matter with you?”

  “Seriously,” Miles echoed. Would the cape have helped him fend off Craig, if Henry was the one who instigated the fight? Miles wasn’t sure. He had to admit it, though—Henry had guts.

  Henry waved a hand, brushing aside their fears. “He touches me, Mr. Harangue will put him in detention. The Jammer ends up in detention, he misses practice. He misses practice, he has to deal with his coaches. He doesn’t want that.”

  “That’s asking Craig to do a lot of thinking before he punches you,” Josie scolded. “You’re lucky I was here to calm him down.”

  “About that . . .” Henry frowned apologetically. “You aren’t really going to sit with him now, are you?”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. No way.”

  “Good. That’s really good.” Henry was back to minding his phone. “I, uh, have to step away for a second. You two get to know each other.” Henry slid out of his seat and walked off, his eyes studying the screen.

  Miles was abandoned, set adrift at his table in the sea of the cafeteria. He wanted to speak, but his tongue was balled into knots. Every second that went by, the closer he came to blowing the best—and probably only—chance he’d ever get to make a lasting impression on Josie. He was drowning, gasping for words. Josie tossed him a life preserver.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  A simple no was all Miles needed, but he couldn’t muster even that.

  Josie shrugged and sat across from Miles. She set a small lunch sack on the table in front of her. It was a brown-and-pink zipper bag stitched with a pattern of trees and singing birds. So she brought her lunch from home. Good for her. She was far too exceptional to settle for cafeteria dreck.

  Josie arranged her lunch on the table. She hefted her ham and cheese sandwich with both hands, not minding that it hadn’t been divided into more manageable quarters. She locked eyes with Miles over the top of the sandwich and took her first bite. It was nothing short of glamorous. Miles was in love.

  Miles prodded his voice into action. “I’m new. Seventh grade.”

  “Sure. I recognize you.”

  Miles’s heart fluttered. She recognized him. She knew he existed after all. How he wished Henry had heard that. Where had he gotten off to, anyway?

  Then Josie’s cheeks flushed pink, and Miles’s elation evaporated. He realized a dashing appearance and winning charm weren’t what had brought him to Josie’s attention. It was having the soda dropped on his head, or getting slugged in the gut, or any of the countless other embarrassing moments Craig had inflicted upon him. Miles tucked his head down into his shoulders, trying to hide inside himself.

  “No!” Josie blurted. “I’ve seen you around, is all.” She was pretending she hadn’t witnessed his humiliations, when he knew she had. Somehow, despite being so popular, she’d remained a nice person. She was every bit the opposite of the Jammer, and not just in the looks department.

  Miles nodded. “I recognize you, too.”

  Josie smiled. “How do you like Chapman?”

  “It’s all right. I’m still figuring things out. I guess you know your way around pretty good.”

  Josie scanned her surroundings with a bored expression. “Too good. I’ve been here since the first day of sixth gr
ade, and I’ve been going to school with most of these people for a lot longer than that. Some of them since pre-K. I’m ready for high school. Something different.” She turned to Miles, her eyes twinkling with the promise of discovery. “Break the routine. Change things up, you know?”

  “Totally,” Miles said eagerly, when really he meant “not in the least bit.” Routine was the only thing he could rely on. Without it, he’d be sunk. But he was talking to Josie Campobasso; disagreement was out of the question. “So, you and Henry are friends?”

  “Something like that.” She shrugged, as though she’d never given the topic much thought. “He’s nice, but he always has his nose in a book or something. He isn’t much for socializing. He’s always been that way. Busy.” She nodded, satisfied she’d found the very best word to describe Henry. “How do you know him?”

  “We’re, uh, working on a project together,” Miles said carefully.

  Josie perked up. “You couldn’t have picked a better partner. Henry always wins the science fair. This one year he camouflaged a refrigerator box with branches and leaves, and he spent just about the whole month of April in there, writing down his observations about the nesting behavior of local bird species. It was fascinating. But I’m kind of a bird nut anyway.” She pulled a necklace from inside her shirt, showing Miles a small, silver bird charm. “What about you?”

  “Sure. Birds are so . . .” He reached for common ground, grasping the first word that popped into his mind. “Feathery.”

  Josie cocked an eyebrow, like she wasn’t sure if Miles was messing with her. “Um, yeah. I guess so. I mostly like them because they fly. Take the ruby-throated hummingbird. Such a tiny little bird, but it migrates from as far south as Panama to as far north as Canada every year.” She gazed up in wonder, as if instead of a drop ceiling and fluorescent lights, there was nothing but blue sky overhead. “Can you imagine floating around up there? Warm sun. Cool breeze.” She was dreamy-eyed, her voice soothing and hypnotic.

  “It’s even better than you think,” Miles said.

  Oops. He’d been so entranced, he’d lowered his defenses. He really needed to work on the whole keeping-secrets thing.

  Josie paused for an agonizing moment that seemed to stretch for days. Then she burst out laughing. “For a second, I thought you were going to say you were a bird. I see what you mean, though. We could never understand what it’s like to be up there. Airplanes just don’t do it justice.” Josie scooped up her sandwich for another bite. “So anyway, what class is your project for?”

  “It’s not for school. It’s kind of . . . extracurricular.”

  “Studying just for the fun if it? No wonder you and Henry get along. Let me know if you need any help. I love seeing the crazy stuff he comes up with.”

  Miles almost fell out of his seat. Did Josie Campobasso just offer to hang out with him outside of school? Obviously, she could never know what he and Henry were really up to, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t do something else. But what? What did girls like her do for fun?

  It didn’t matter. This was Miles’s chance, and he was going to seize it. He’d figure out the details later. “Do you think you’d ever want to—”

  vrrrrrrr

  The phone in Miles’s pocket suddenly buzzed to life.

  No! Not now! Henry couldn’t have picked a worse time to conduct another one of his stupid tests. Miles was on the verge of a social breakthrough of epic proportions.

  vrrrrrrr

  “Are you all right?” Josie asked.

  “Me? I’m fine. Why?”

  “Because you’re fidgety all of the sudden.”

  vrrrrrrr

  “It’s nothing.” Miles searched for Henry in the crowded cafeteria. If he made eye contact with him, maybe he could convince him to back off.

  Josie leaned into Miles’s line of sight, bringing his attention back to her. “Hello-o. Were you going to ask me something?” Her expression was inviting, telling Miles how she was going to answer his question, if he would only ask it.

  Could this really be happening, or was he reading too much into the situation? Only one way to find out.

  “I was wondering if . . .” Miles spied something moving in the corner of his eye, and his voice trailed off. He glanced over and was surprised to see Henry across the cafeteria, waving his arms and jumping around like he was trying to get someone to throw him a touchdown pass. Realizing he’d been noticed, Henry stopped jumping and pointed deliberately at his smartphone.

  “This is ridiculous,” Miles muttered as he reached into his pocket.

  “Excuse me?” Josie sounded offended.

  “The project I was telling you about. Henry is a little too into it, that’s all.”

  “Right.” Josie chuckled bemusedly. “No surprise there. He spent last summer sitting in treetops, so he could draw an aerial map of our neighborhood. He said the images on Google were outdated.”

  If she continued with the story, Miles didn’t hear her. He looked down at his phone, and everything seemed to go still and silent around him. An adrenaline-fueled tremor started in his feet and moved upward as he read Henry’s series of texts.

  U r on.

  Let’s go!

  NOT A TEST!!!

  Miles locked eyes with Henry, who glared admonishingly. He tapped an index finger on his wristwatch—or where his wristwatch would’ve been, if he wore one. Regardless, there was no mistaking his meaning: Something was wrong, and time was wasting.

  “Did you hear anything I said?” Josie asked.

  Miles hoped he didn’t look as pale as he felt. Why did this have to happen now? “Sure. Listen, we’ll talk later, okay?” Miles tossed the remnants of his lunch onto his tray and snatched up his backpack. “I forgot there’s something I have to do.”

  Josie was speechless. She must’ve thought Miles was joking again. If only he was.

  Miles turned and ran, sprinting away from the girl of his dreams.

  CHAPTER

  14

  MILES WAS OUT OF BREATH, his heart stampeding. “What’s the emergency?” he said, panting.

  Henry was even. “Have a nice chat?”

  “What?”

  “No, really. I want to know. Since we have all this time, and nothing of any importance at all to deal with, we might as well catch up.”

  “You don’t have to be so obnoxious.” Miles met Henry’s glare with one of his own. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t sending me another one of your tests? Ever hear of the boy who cried wolf? You’re the kid who texted ‘test.’ ”

  “Have you ever heard of the necessity of practice and drilling to meet the requirements for effective emergency response?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “Shocker.” Henry’s voice dripped with accusation.

  Miles was defensive. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

  “Not here.” Henry searched the cafeteria for a place where they could talk privately. But in a room filled with more than eight hundred nosy, gossiping students, there weren’t that many private places. “Looks like it’s the bathroom again,” he said, frowning.

  They crossed the cafeteria and pushed through the bathroom door. The bathroom was empty, though from the smell of it, it hadn’t been that way for very long. Henry leaned against the door to prevent anyone from joining them and bent his head down to study his phone.

  “The Gilded Group got a tip about a roadside fire. Probably some jerk tossed a lit cigarette out his window.” Most of Georgia had been suffering a drought, and the parched grass and ever-present pine needles on the ground made for good kindling. Despite all of that, some people still viewed the world as their own personal ashtray. “It’s spreading quick, and the fire crews can’t get their equipment in there to douse it.”

  Miles exhaled. A brushfire? That was a nice way to ease into things. It wasn’t good by any means, but at least it wasn’t an alien invasion. “That sounds easy enough,” he said.

  Henry fro
wned. “Tell that to the small cavity nesters. Anyway, you’re going to want to take I-85 north to Braselton. Just follow the smoke.”

  Henry was suddenly jolted from behind, nearly causing him to drop his phone.

  “Hey!” a voice shouted from the other side of the bathroom door. It sounded like—

  “It’s Craig!” Henry whispered. “Help me hold the door closed! We can’t let him see you change!”

  Miles rushed over and pressed his shoulder against the door. The Jammer made a second, more forceful attempt at entry. “Open up!” he growled. “I got one on deck!”

  Even with Miles and Henry pushing together, the door started to open. Henry dropped to the floor and tried digging in with his palms and heels, but it was no good. He couldn’t find traction on the tile. Gilded would be able to hold the door shut no problem, but there was no way Miles could get the cape on. If he stopped pushing, the door would burst open and throw Henry across the room.

  “What do we do?” Miles whispered, panicked. “We can’t hold him back forever!”

  Henry’s face tightened, and Miles imagined a clockwork of gears in his friend’s head, all of them turning in search of an answer. Then Henry smiled.

  Henry tipped his head back and bellowed an awful moan of discomfort that reverberated off the bathroom walls. “OOOO-WAAAH-OHHH!” It was a cross between a blue whale’s call and a lion’s roar, if both the whale and the lion were in desperate need of Tums.

  Miles plugged his ears. “What’re you doing?”

  “Scaring him off!” Henry whispered. “Would you go into a bathroom if somebody in there sounded like that?” He grimaced and ground his hands into his gut. “WAAAH-OOO-OHHH!”

  “Aw, man!” Craig yelled from the other side of the door. “I hope I didn’t eat what you had!” He stopped pushing, and Miles heard footsteps retreating.

  Henry ceased his wailing and pressed an ear against the door. All was silent. “It worked! Now get the cape on before somebody else decides to take a bathroom break.”

  Miles took out the cape, then paused. He stared dumbly at his backpack.

  “What are you waiting for?” Henry urged.