by Marty Chan
She was on to us.
SEVEN
In my bedroom, I pretended to read my Hardy Boys book, but I kept thinking about Remi. I squished my ear against the wall, hoping to hear his secret signal. Silence greeted me. He was not coming back tonight. I would have to wait until the morning to tell him about my mom being on to us.
Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. I wanted to talk to Remi right now. I felt like one of the Hardy Boys, and I had just been separated from my detective partner. I wanted the writer to devise an easy way for me to reach Remi. But this was real life, not a book. I jumped off the bed and paced around the room, trying to figure out a plan.
Finally, it hit me. I could sneak out of the store, follow Remi’s footprints in the snow until I reached his house. Then the two of us could hide out in his room and plan our next step. I got dressed and rushed to the back of the store so that I could pick up Remi’s trail.
Mom stood guard at the back door with a broom and a bunch of questions. I suspected she had picked up my thoughts and intercepted me before I could take off. I tried to empty my brain of all thoughts of Remi and aliens.
“What you doing?” she asked.
“I’m looking for my pen,” I lied.
“Why you wear your winter jacket?”
“I think I lost the pen outside.”
“How you lose it out there?”
I shrugged, “I guess I was clumsy. I’m going to look for it.”
She shook her head. “You get pen from Dad.”
“But it was my lucky pen. I should try to find it at least.”
She shook her head. “It too dark outside. You not find it tonight.”
Thinking fast, I blurted out, “I can’t take a new pen. We’ll lose money from a sale.”
“You right,” she agreed. Then she tossed me the broom. “You work for it. Sweep the front.”
My clever alien mom wanted me near Dad so that he could keep an eye on me. I thought that I could wait. Sooner or later, Mom would leave her back door post and I would be able to slip out.
“Give me your jacket and boots,” she said.
Without my winter gear, I’d never survive outside. Mom knew this, and she knew that I knew this, and I knew that she knew. She had read my mind and thwarted yet another one of my plans. I ripped off my winter coat and kicked off my boots, then I stomped to the front of the store with the broom.
“Don’t make so much noise,” she barked.
I stepped quietly, but I took my time getting to the front. I stopped often to sweep tiny specks of dust or face some cans. All the while, I peeked back at Mom, who continued to stand guard over my escape route.
I doubted that I would be able to get to Remi’s house tonight. As I shuffled to the front, I wondered about Remi’s home. Was it attached to a shop or was it a real house? Did he have normal human parents? I suspected he had all the things that I had ever wanted in a home. I imagined his parents hugging him when he came home, and everyone in the house sitting down together for dinner. In my mind, they all seemed like such a family. I wished I lived in a place like that.
The truth hit me; there was such a place — my home planet. I wondered if my real home existed in this galaxy. I wished that I came from Saturn. I liked the planet’s rainbow-coloured rings. I imagined that on Saturn aliens didn’t have to wear disguises. On Saturn, we all looked the same. On Saturn, no one got picked on.
I wondered what I really looked like. Maybe I had rings around my head, like my planet. Perhaps I could hang stuff off the rings. Or better yet, I had four giant gorilla arms and I could lift giant meteorites or move Saturnian mountains. I imagined having three heads so that I could read more than one book at the same time. I had mega-powerful eyes, so that I never needed glasses. I had super-selective hearing so that I could only hear the nice things that people said about me.
However, all this thinking about Saturn saddened me. I realized that I did not live on that really cool planet. Instead, I suffered on a strange world where everyone looked and acted different. Why couldn’t Mom and Dad stay on Saturn? What was so important about Bouvier that we had to live here? Why didn’t my parents ask me if I wanted to live on Earth? I wanted to expose them as aliens so that we would be forced to return to Saturn. But without evidence, my chance of success was as far away as my home world.
When I reached the cash register, I noticed Dad talking to a tall, thin grey-haired man, who looked about a hundred years old. What really set him apart were his black clothes. The only white in his dark outfit was a bit of his collar, which barely peeked out from under his black overcoat.
Was Dad talking to a Night Watchman?
Stunned, I dropped my broom. The two men glanced at me. I snatched the broom and looked away. Then I pretended to find dirt under the chocolate bar rack. I swept the tiled floor as I eavesdropped on the two men.
“It’s settled. If all goes well, they should be here within two weeks,” the Night Watchman whispered. He had a really raspy voice and a French accent.
My dad said, “I think they will be very happy here.”
“Anywhere is better than where they came from. Poor souls.”
“Do you think they will have trouble fitting in?”
“I’m hoping that you will show them how to integrate.”
Integrate? What did that mean? I tried to remember the definition. I broke the word in half. “Inte” was like “enter.” “Grate” was like “great.” It was “great” to “enter”? Integrate meant that the aliens thought it was great to enter the human race.
“I will take good care of them,” Dad promised.
“That’s why I picked you. How much for the milk?”
Dad shook his head. “No charge. Take it.”
“Bless you, George,” the Night Watchman murmured. He picked up his carton of milk and left the store.
I positioned myself by the window to spy on the departing Night Watchman. The first big break in the alien case made me so excited that I didn’t see Dad come up behind me.
“Marty, get back to work. Sweep in the back.”
I stalled, “Mom told me to work here.”
“Then you should work,” he ordered.
Dad ushered me away from the window. I lost sight of the Night Watchman, but it didn’t matter. I knew the master plan. Aliens were on their way to Earth.
EIGHT
“It has to be an invasion,” blurted Remi. He leaned against the pedestal of the giant statue of Jesus Christ to prop himself up. The towering stone Jesus held out his hands to embrace all the people in the schoolyard.
Remi noticed some nearby English guys and muttered, “People are looking.”
I strolled to the statue’s back side so that we didn’t look like we were talking to each other. Remi and I looked weird talking to the granite statue, but it was better than being seen together.
“It sounded like the Night Watchman was behind it all,” I said to Jesus’ heels.
“I knew it was an invasion. I mean I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to freak out. But deep down, I knew aliens were coming to invade Earth.”
“Why would they — we — the aliens be interested in taking over the planet?”
“I saw this in a movie last summer. It’s because they need slaves to do all their work.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Your parents are scouts,” Remi said to Jesus’ toes. “They want to see how much of a fight we’ll put up. And so far we haven’t put up any. They think we’re easy targets. That’s why they’re sending more aliens.”
“Do you know the weird thing about the Night Watchman? He didn’t look like my parents. He looked more like the Rake.”
“Our principal is an alien too?”
“No, I meant, the Night Watchman looked human. I don’t think he was an alien.”
“Let me think,” Remi said.
The other kids noticed Remi and I talking to Jesus’ feet and giggled.
“We should move,” I suggest
ed.
As Remi came around the statue, he whispered out the side of his mouth, “Boot room.”
He sauntered toward the school. I waited for a minute, then I meandered a wide arc that eventually led to the boot room. Inside, Remi pretended to fix his snow pants. I started to take off my boots. I hopped around on one foot, a little off balanced, and bumped into Remi. He pushed me away and I slammed into the wall.
“Stop fooling around, Marty,” Remi barked. “I think I figured it out.”
I stopped hopping.
“The Night Watchman is an Earthling who’s turned against the humans. He’s a traitor.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“Maybe they offered him something.”
“My dad didn’t charge him for the milk,” I suggested.
“Free stuff. That could be it.”
“You’d turn over the entire human race for a carton of milk?” I asked.
“Chocolate milk?”
He made a good point. Everyone had a price.
“He’s preparing for the invasion,” Remi said.
“We have to stop him.”
“Yeah, the aliens picked the wrong planet. We’re gonna kick their alien butts.”
“Hey, I have an alien butt.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to decide whose side you’re on.”
“Can’t you leave me out of it?” I asked.
Remi threw me a puzzled look.
I explained, “It’s just that I don’t know if I can stand up to my parents.”
“You’re either with Earth or against Earth.”
“But I don’t want to upset my mom or dad.”
A few kids ran into the boot room. Remi cut off all communications. He stormed outside.
Remi’s statement made me think of the French/ English war in the schoolyard. Only this time, the French and English would unite as human beings against aliens. I had to choose between my parents and the Earthlings. I was torn.
I stepped into my boots and headed outside, where Remi waited for my answer. I couldn’t let my friend down.
I walked past him and whispered, “I’m on your side.”
Remi grunted, “Good. Follow me.”
He ran to the giant snow hill near the statue of Jesus. I scanned the schoolyard for any spies, then I followed him.
On the other side of the hill, away from curious eyes, Remi patted me on the back. “I knew you’d see things the right way, Marty. We’re going to win this war.”
“I don’t want to hurt my parents.”
“We won’t. We’re just gonna scare them into thinking that an invasion would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.”
“But they’re not the ones planning it. I think the Night Watchman is the leader.”
“Then we have to get to him. Did you see where he went?”
“Yes, he went out of the store.”
“And?”
“My dad grabbed me before I could see where he went.”
“What did the guy look like?”
“He had grey hair. And he was tall. He had a hat. And he was old.”
Remi guessed, “How old? Like thirty?”
“Maybe more.”
Remi said, “It’s safe to say that he’s not at school.”
“Why?”
“You would have recognized him.”
I thought only the Hardy Boys were capable of brilliant ideas.
“So that leaves the rest of the town,” he said.
“Not quite. Just the men.” I wanted to impress Remi with my deductive powers.
“So where can you find a lot of grey-haired men?”
Remi smiled smugly like he knew the answer. I didn’t want to look dumb, so I took a wild guess. “The barbershop?”
Remi’s grin deflated. “How did you know?”
Maybe I could read minds like Mom. I wasn’t sure. I shrugged.
“Doesn’t matter,” Remi said. “The barbershop is where all the old farmers go to tell stories.”
“But none of them wear black,” I said. “It’s more like plaid. And they wear green farmer hats.”
“They have grey hair,” Remi snapped. “You got any better ideas.”
Remi seemed cranky. Instead of poking holes in his theory, I said, “You’re right. We should check it out.”
Remi didn’t answer.
“I said we should check it out. Why aren’t you answering me?”
Remi roared and threw me into the snow bank. He pounced on my back and pushed my head down. I got a mouth full of snow. I tried to push up, but he held me down.
“Dumb Anglais. You’re spying on us,” Remi shouted. “Don’t worry fellas, I got this one under control.”
Through my snow-filled ears I could hear boys laugh and walk away. After what seemed like forever, Remi pulled me up. Snow caked on my glasses. I wiped them clean, while Remi brushed the snow off my jacket.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Remi cocked his head toward the schoolyard. The Boissonault brothers walked away. “If they saw us together, I’d be in big trouble.”
“Couldn’t you pretend that you didn’t know me?”
“All Anglais get face washes if they’re caught alone. That’s the rule of war.”
“You could have warned me before you stuck my face in the snow,” I pouted.
“I could let Jean and Jacques finish the job,” Remi offered. “Hey guys!”
I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t even think about doing that.”
Remi laughed as he tried to get free of my hand and call for the Boissonaults.
“I thought you were my friend,” I said.
He stopped laughing. “I am, but not at school. The Boissonaults would kill me if they saw us together.”
“So you’re going to give me a face wash every time you see me at school?”
“I was doing you a favour. Jacques is pretty mean when it comes to snow washes. The last kid got eight stitches.”
“Gee, thanks. Not.”
“Do you think you’re the only one scared of being beat up?”
“But you’re really tough.”
“There’s only one of me,” he confessed. “And there are two of them. This one time, Denis Aquin tried to trade hockey cards with Ray Blinston. Jacques and Jean caught them by the soccer goal posts. They hammered Denis pretty good. He didn’t come to school for three days.”
“I thought French guys stuck together,” I said.
“The Anglais aren’t much better. I heard they made Ray eat his hockey cards.”
I remembered Ray puked up paper during our math test. I thought he had swallowed a cheat sheet, but now I knew where the paper came from. Even though they claimed to be different, the English and the French boys in my school did have one thing in common. They were all jerks.
Remi continued, “If anyone found out about you and me, we’d get it bad. Real bad. Do you want that?”
I thought about how awful my U.F.O. magazine would taste. “No.”
“That’s why we have to make sure no one sees us together,” Remi said.
I agreed.
Remi turned around to locate Jean and Jacques in case they doubled back, as they were known to do. Suddenly, I had a wicked idea. I scooped a handful of snow, snuck up behind Remi, and gave him a face wash.
“What was that for?” he sputtered.
“I thought Eric Johnson was looking this way. I have to protect myself too.”
I cracked a grin. Remi scowled for a minute, then broke into a big grin.
Remi spit out some snow and said, “Okay, we’re even.”
I playfully punched his arm to seal the deal. He punched my arm back, hard. I made a mental note not to play punch buggy with him in the future.
“So after school, we start looking for the Night Watchman,” I said.
He nodded. “We’d better get to class. Don’t want to get detention.”
I agreed. I ran to the building, while Remi hung back
. A snowball pelted the back of my head. I whipped around. Remi whistled, pretending nothing happened. I knew he threw the snowball and I promised to get even with him later.
Fridays usually dragged on because they were the last day before the weekend, but this Friday went by especially slow. I glanced at the clock about a thousand times. I looked like I had a nervous tic, because my head kept twisting to see the clock. Trina made fun of me, and said that my brain had short-circuited. Everyone ignored her. Trina lost her popularity when she led the freak-a-zoid tour into an unintentional snowball fight with the French. She slumped in her desk and pouted. Her silence sounded so sweet.
Finally, the bell rang to end the day. In such a rush to start my mission, I nearly forgot to take my homework. I had to run back and get it. Mrs. Connor scolded me for running in school and warned me to take it slow. I barely heard her as I sprinted out of the classroom.
Outside, I headed to the far end of the schoolyard where Remi and I had agreed to meet. I hid in the bare bushes, but quickly noticed that the leafless twigs offered no camouflage. A trio of grade two girls snickered as they walked passed me. The bell rang to dismiss the French kids. More students gawked at me as they headed out of the schoolyard. I needed a new hiding place. I walked out from behind the bushes and walked along the fence to an isolated spot. Then I laid flat on my back in the snow and melted into the snow drift. I searched the blue sky for Saturn. I stared so hard that little dots formed in my field of vision. I let them dance around the sky and tried to make them form my home world. They just gave me a headache after a while.
I sat up. The schoolyard was deserted. Had I missed Remi, or did I mix up our meeting place? Maybe he told me to meet him in the school. I trudged through the snow back to the two-story brick building.
Suddenly, Remi came around the corner. I waved to him, but he shook his head. I put my hand down. As he got closer, I noticed that Remi’s jacket was ripped and he had a black eye.
“What happened?” I asked.
He walked right past me. He whispered, “Are they following me?”
I peeked around the corner of the school and spotted Eric Johnson with six stocky Anglais boys. Eric danced around, using a piece of Remi’s jacket like a belly dancer’s veil. His friends laughed. I crept away from my hiding spot and ran to Remi, who had made it to the fence. He tried to piece his torn jacket together.