Sleepers

by Darcy Pattison

  Suddenly, Jake’s heart thumped loudly in his ears. Did she suspect something? He stammered. “Wh-what’s an Earth muffin?”

  The girl handed him a menu and pointed to a listing.

  The Earth Muffins had carrots, zucchini, pumpkin seeds, flax and other stuff that Jake was pretty sure didn’t usually go into a muffin, which was just a piece of bread. He wasn’t sure why vegetables made it an “Earth” muffin, but it looked like it had nothing to do with Rison. He was safe. “Okay,” he squeaked. “I’ll try it.”

  “We’ve got special coffee mugs on sale, too, if you’re interested.” She pointed to a line of mugs on the top of the counter. They were works of art, each hand-painted with a skyline of Seattle.

  “Who did these? They’re interesting.” He was starting to regain his composure; his voice was almost normal. Maybe he’d buy a mug for his mom sometime.

  “It’s a business that I’d like to build up,” she said. “I only work here so I can sell the coffee mugs that I paint.”

  From behind the counter, an older man gave a short laugh. “You work here for the money and to meet cute guys.”

  “Got that straight,” she retorted. She picked up the triple-shot venti and offered it to Jake.

  “Thanks.” Jake was rewarded with a smile that suddenly made his knees weak. But no other barista had made Jake’s senses tingle like this one, and he watched the coffee-girl’s hands move as if in slow motion.

  When she saw that he was too distracted to take the mug, she set his drink on the counter and wrapped his muffin in a brown wax paper. Turning to the register, she pulled out her phone and set it beside the cash register.

  “You new in town?” she asked.

  Jake could barely nod, he was so intent on watching her pink-painted fingernails tap the cash register. He managed to ask, “Who are you?”

  “Good question.” She looked him straight in the eye, and a flood of words poured out. “I’m a human female who lives on Bainbridge Island. I’m an athlete, a painter, a barista, a lover of carrot cake, a student of biology—so are you, you’re in my class. I’m a laugh-a-minute when I get going, but I seldom get going.”

  Jake just stared. She was in his biology class? The first three days had been such a blur that he didn’t recognize her at all.

  She was obviously on a roll because she kept talking. “Or maybe you want to know what I’m not. I’m not a cheerleader or an A+ student. I’m not a believer in the tooth fairy. You’ll never find me eating eggplants or Brussels sprouts or asparagus.”

  Jake stammered, “No asparagus.” She was fascinating and confusing all at the same time. Her accent, so different from what he’d heard during their week in Alabama, was great. He wanted her to keep on talking, so he could keep on listening.

  “Here’s an unusual skill I have,” she continued, “I am a star-gazer, and I can name any constellation you point out.”

  Suddenly, Jake started laughing. “You’re amazing, is what you are.”

  She grinned back at him.

  Her smile, wide and welcoming, called to him like a siren; it pierced him, and yet, it was also a pure pleasure just to see her. He wanted to know everything about this girl, not just that she liked carrot cake but not asparagus. “Let me rephrase that question,” Jake said. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Emmeline Tullis. Call me Em.” She glanced at her phone, frowned, tapped something—pink flashing up and down—then looked up again.

  Em. He liked that name. “Jake,” he squealed, his voice still refusing to fully cooperate. “Jake Rose.” Even after three years with Dad, it sounded strange sometimes to use Dad’s surname, Rose, instead of his adoptive father’s surname, Quad-de. He’d been Jake Quad-de for eleven years, and Jake Rose for only three years.

  “You new in town?” she repeated.

  “Living with my grandparents.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  So he continued, “Sir and Easter Rose.”

  “The dentist in Seattle?” She frowned slightly, “My sister, Marisa, works for him.”

  Jake wondered if she was frowning about her sister or his grandfather. But he only said, “Good. Maybe we’ll run into each a lot.”

  Jake handed her a twenty. Earth money still confused him, but his parents insisted that he use cash instead of a credit or debit card—as they had on the Moon Base—that would leave a digital trail.

  When Em took his money, their hands brushed; Jake jerked his eyes up, surprised by—what? Something. Her touch—it reached inside him somehow. Her eyes widened slightly, too, he was sure of it. She set his change on the counter, and Jake wondered if that was to avoid touching him.

  He backed away and sat in a booth where he had a good view of the counter and Em—the human female that was in his biology class. How had he missed her? He sipped his coffee and nibbled his muffin, not even tasting it, just watching her with other customers. Listening to her melodic hums that accompanied her work. She glanced at him once, twice—but casually, sweeping the shop to see if any customers needed anything. When there was a lull, she went around collecting empty coffee cups and offering refills. And always, she fiddled with her phone. Addicted to it, he thought. It was an Earth habit that he hadn’t picked up yet. His parents would likely forbid it as another digital trail.

  The string of bells on the door jangled, and Jake glanced over. Startled, he realized the man who had just walked in looked eerily like that soldier, the captain from Gulf Shores. Trembling with surprise, Jake quickly twisted away from the door so his back was toward the man. Peering around, he watched the man take off his cap to reveal a military crop and a broad nose. It was Captain Hill.

  What was the captain doing here on Bainbridge Island? Was he tracking Jake?

  The door jingled again, and an older man with thick glasses walked in to stand beside the captain. Jake was startled to recognize his biology and civics teacher, Mr. Blevins. He had a thick graying mustache that looked like a fuzzy Earth caterpillar.

  Jake shrank further into the depths of his booth.

  “Morning, Coach,” Em said from behind the counter. “The usual?”

  But Mr. Blevins taught biology and civics. Why was Em calling him Coach? So far in biology, they’d only been given seat assignments, lectures on Blevin’s grading system, received textbooks, and talked about lab safety. In civics, it was the same, except instead of lab safety, they had a long lecture about their major project of the first semester, a research paper. And in both classes, they’d talked about the freshman class trip to Mt. Rainier. Apparently, it was a big tradition because everyone had been excited about it. Outside the classroom, though, Jake knew nothing about this particular teacher.

  “The usual,” Mr. Blevins said. “Have you met Captain Hill? He’s ELLIS Special Forces.” Blevins paused to let Em fully appreciate his friend’s prestigious job.

  Em said, “Of course, I know him. He took my sister Marisa to the senior prom.”

  Captain Hill squinted. “Em? You’re all grown up! I didn’t recognize you.”

  Mr. Blevins took off his eyeglasses, polished them, and put them back on to peer at Em with puzzlement. “You’re Marisa’s sister? You don’t look anything alike.”

  “We’re both adopted, you know,” she said.

  Mr. Blevins nodded, and then slapped his friend on the back. “Cy’s just been posted in the area for a special assignment. He likes Americanos.” He laughed. “A good patriotic drink. And throw in a couple of those Earth muffins, too.”

  Wow! This man is proud of his friend, Jake thought.

  “Got it.” Em turned to the espresso machine but turned back to wave at the line of coffee cups. “We’ve got special prices on the coffee mugs, too, if you’re interested.”

  Mr. Blevins smiled and said, “You paint those, right? I’ll get mugs for Christmas presents, I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Em hummed and fixed the coffees, while her boss set two muffins on individual small plates.

>   Mr. Blevins reached for his plate, but the Captain said, “I’ll get them. You just find us a table.”

  “I can carry my own,” Mr. Blevins said, and picked up one of the plates and a cup.

  Captain Hill picked up his coffee and muffin but turned back. “What’s Marisa up to these days?”

  “She works for a dentist in Seattle.” She shrugged. “Officially, she still lives here on the Island.”

  “Officially.”

  Em rolled her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, well, she spends the night in Seattle a lot. Two years ago, she found her biological mother.”

  “Good for her,” Captain Hill said. “She always wanted to do that.”

  “Well, anyway, she stays with them a lot.” She shrugged like it didn’t matter. But Jake thought that it really did matter. A lot.

  “Married?” asked Captain Hill.

  Em shook her head, no.

  Captain Hill said, “Maybe I’ll call her. Thanks.”

  Jake was overwhelmed. ELLIS Forces had some “special assignment” for this captain here in the Seattle area? Were they here for him? Did ELLIS know who Jake was? No. They likely only knew he was Commander Rose’s son.

  While at the beach house, Mom and Dad had drilled into Jake the need to keep his identity secret. “No one must know you’re the son of the Risonian ambassador,” Dad said. “No one must know that you’re half-human and half-Risonian. Very few know that’s even possible. My commanding officer from the first contact mission with Rison didn’t include it in his official report.”

  Mom’s voice had been the most passionate in the discussion. “I am working day and night to win a refuge for Rison here on Earth. And back home, Swann is working to calm down the Risonians who just want to attack Earth. We don’t want a war; we just need a place to evacuate our people before Rison’s core implodes.”

  “How long before that happens? What’s the current prediction?” Dad asked.

  “Two or three years. Maybe less. Time is short,” Mom warned. Dad laid an arm protectively over her shoulder, and they turned as one to glare at Jake. “You must be invisible.”

  But now, the captain who led the search for Mom at the beach was here on Bainbridge Island. Surely it wasn’t an accident.

  The two men settled in to the table next to Jake, but thankfully, with their backs to him. Jake held immobile, trying to be invisible so he could shamelessly eavesdrop.

  “How was Gulf Shores?” Mr. Blevins asked.

  “Fine,” said Captain Hill.

  “Did your assignment go well?”

  “No. We missed our target.”

  He meant Mom! That video had put a bull’s eye on her face, and this man was taking aim. Jake’s stomach cramped.

  Then: “You know that I’m here on special assignment?”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to go through your old photos,” Hill said apologetically.

  “For what?”

  Silence.

  The old man cleared his throat. “Look, I know you’re working on something about Rison, and you think bringing that up will upset me, will bring back old memories. It’s okay. Just ask. What do you need?”

  “Okay,” said the Captain. “I’m looking for photos of the Ambassador’s son. The Quad-des have kept him out of the news, and the most recent picture we have is four years old. You know we have software that will age up a person’s image, and I just wondered if you had anything better than the fuzzy photos online.”

  Jake’s mind swirled. They were looking for pictures of him. But why would Mr. Blevins have pictures of Jake? Old pictures. This was crazy.

  Mr. Blevins answered, “After Julianne died, I almost threw away all the old pictures from Rison. But for some reason, I kept them. You’re welcome to pick them up and look.”

  “I’m not sure when I can get by,” the captain said. “I have to take the late ferry back to Seattle.”

  “If I’m not there, just look in the storage room at the back of the garage,” Mr. Blevins said.

  “Thanks. I hope we get lucky. ELLIS convinced the National Enquirer and other newspapers like that to put out the word to its paparazzi, offering $10,000 for a photo of the kid. Maybe we’ll get it.”

  “He was a nice kid—”

  And then—Crash!

  Spinning around, Jake took in the scene. Em’s phone was in one hand, and an empty tray in the other. She’d apparently come around to gather empty cups, and had been concentrating on her phone to the point that the whole tray of dirty cups had spilled onto the captain’s lap.

  She really shouldn’t text and work at the same time, Jake thought. Then he wanted to swat his head for how obvious that thought had been.

  Dark coffee ran down the captain’s jeans, and one thick white mug lay at Em’s feet with the handle broken off.

  “Oh!” Em cried. “I’m so sorry.” She jammed the phone into her back pocket and—

  The captain shoveled the coffee cups and napkins from his pants, shooting out of his seat and knocking Em backward into a table, which overturned with another crash. Em wind milled her arms, causing the tray she was still holding to go flying and crash onto the floor, too. Somehow, she kept her balance and didn’t fall herself.

  Anger surged in Jake. This bully thought he could push women around. Captain Hill poised like a cobra about to strike, his arms held tightly away from his sides like a tightly wound coil. His wide nostrils flared, and he took a step toward Em, clearly barely controlling himself.

  Em cringed, shrinking into herself, and raised an arm in self-protection.

  Captain Hill said, “You silly—”

  “No! Leave her alone.” Jake leapt up and shoved the captain’s back. “She didn’t mean to do it.”

  The captain whirled, fists ready to strike. Mr. Blevins grabbed his arm, stopping the swing.

  The captain froze anyway and hissed, “You!”

  Too late, Jake remembered his mother’s preaching. “Grow up. Think before you act.”

  Em was saying, “It’s okay, Jake.”

  But it wasn’t okay. What had he done?

  The other cashier, the older man who must be the storeowner, rushed over calling, “Everyone calm down, now. Just a clumsy waitress. No need to fight.”

  Jake sank heavily into the seating of his booth, legs sticking out into the aisle. But the captain was in his face. “What are you doing here on Bainbridge Island?”

  “My grandparents live here. The Roses.”

  Blevins tugged at the younger man’s arm. “The Roses have lived on Bainbridge for twenty years or more. Sir Rose is a dentist. Leave the boy alone.”

  “Where’s your father? Where’s the Commander?” the captain demanded.

  “On assignment.”

  “Where?”

  Jake shrugged. By now, he was regaining some of his composure and certainly wasn’t going to answer this jerk’s questions. “No idea. Dad doesn’t exactly tell me all about his Navy assignments.”

  Anger blazed across the captain’s face. He jabbed a finger at Jake’s chest, almost yelling now. “He’s negotiating with that Shark ambassador, isn’t he? Where are they?”

  This time, Mr. Blevins jerked his friend’s arm, forcing him to turn. “Leave it.”

  The two men stared at each other for a moment before the captain squared his jaw and nodded. Through clenched teeth, he told Jake, “Don’t worry. We’re looking for the ambassador’s son, and we know he’s in the Seattle area. When we find him, we’ll find her.”

  The captain pulled up, ramrod straight, as if at attention. He ran a hand through his curly hair and backed up a step, obviously trying to calm himself. “Okay, Okay.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a five-dollar bill, and threw it on the table.

  To the shop owner, he said, “No problems here. We’re leaving.” He glared at Em but said nothing more. He stalked out.

  Mr. Blevins shrugged a quick apology at Em and the owner, and then followed the captain.

  Jake
leaned his head back against the booth’s cushions, stunned. The ELLIS captain who had tried to capture his mom was here on Bainbridge. And ELLIS knew the ambassador’s son was in the area and were trying to get a current photo of Jake. But what did it mean? Why would his biology and civics teacher have old photographs of Jake? That had to mean he’d been on Rison at some point. And that was impossible.

  If Jake thought he needed caution before, now it was drilled home. He must be invisible. Frustrated with the new culture or not, he couldn’t turn to anyone else for help.

  Jake’s Siren

  Em touched Jake’s shoulder, and he startled, jerking around in his seat. For a moment, the coffee shop windows blurred and grayed, like a cloud had gone across the sun.

  “Sorry.” Em held up her hand in surrender. “I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just wanted to say thanks for sticking up for me.”

  She held out another cup of coffee. “Free.” She waved a thumb toward the owner. “Everyone got scared and started leaving, so he’s giving out a round of free coffee. Sorry, it’s not a triple-shot.”

  Jake took the coffee and sipped; it was so hot it almost burned his tongue.

  Even now, with his new worries weighing on his mind, Em’s casual grace, her easy way of moving—she took his breath away. “Um. When do you get off work?”

  She pulled out her phone.

  Of course, he thought, she’s glued to that phone.

  “Thirty minutes,” she said.

  Jake needed information. Everything about high school was confusing, so different from his schooling on the Moon Base where he just sat at a computer for five hours a day; in the mornings he’d done a Risonian correspondence course, and in the afternoons, an Earth correspondence course. No interaction with other teenagers.

  “Do you have time to visit?” he asked hesitantly, not sure how to ask. “I’m new on the island and have so many questions.” He gave her a small smile.

  Em smiled. “Sure. If you can wait.”

  Jake nodded in relief. Maybe he wasn’t making a fool of himself.