The Stowaway rh-6

by Melinda Metz

  Before Alex could make a move or even decide what move he should make, Adam rose from the sofa in one fluid motion. Why didn't I find the fire extinguisher when I had the chance? Alex thought wildly.

  "So, Adam, uh, how're you doing?" he asked. "I thought we could go upstairs and watch TV Maybe make some toast. I know you like toast, right?"

  Oh, perfect. Of all things, I had to mention toast, Alex thought.

  But Adam didn't answer. He didn't react at all. He stared straight ahead, his green eyes as lifeless as a couple of painted Ping-Pong balls. Lights on, but nobody home.

  Alex had no clue what Adam would do next. Which meant it might be a very good idea just to knock him out right now. Alex took a quick glance around. There was a three-foot-high ceramic alien almost within reach. He could grab it, swing it up and around, and connect with Adam's head.

  But if he did that, he better make sure to make it an out-of-the-ballpark swing because if Adam didn't lose consciousness instantly, he'd be able to heal himself in about two seconds. And then Alex would be doing his impression of the world's biggest piece of burnt toast.

  Pass.

  "Or if you're not in the mood for TV, we could do something else," Alex burst out. "Like, uh, we could stand here and see how much sweat my body is able to produce." He tried to laugh, but all he could squeeze out was a weird barking sound.

  Adam didn't seem to notice-he was still in zombie mode.

  Without a word, Adam turned on his heel and strode behind the information counter. He slid out one of the drawers and dumped the contents on the counter in front of him. His eyes flicked over the paper clips, scissors, tape, staples, pens, and rubber bands, then he swept everything onto the floor. Immediately he yanked out another drawer. Dumped it. Scanned. And swept the countertop clean again. Third drawer. Same deal.

  Bizarre.

  Adam knelt down and flicked open the double doors of the big cabinet under the drawers. Alex took two steps closer and watched Adam yank out a half-empty box of museum maps, a couple of rhinestone-studded jumpsuits, a first-aid kit, and a bucket of cleaning stuff.

  A low growl of frustration escaped Adam's throat. He thrust himself to his feet. Without hesitation he turned to the double row of bookshelves behind him. In an instant the complete collection of UFO books was on the floor.

  This was bizarre. Alex was too intrigued to say anything. If Adam wanted to indulge in a little rock-star-in-a-hotel-room action, cool. Alex was up for anything that would keep Adam occupied until some kind of backup arrived.

  From the bookshelves he worked his way down the closest wall, tearing each framed photograph off the wall and ripping open the back. That brought him to the little coffee shop. Adam felt under each of the tables and chairs and tossed the contents of the cabinets in the kitchen.

  Alex just watched. He felt like an idiot. No, more like a wuss. Ray Iburg had loved this place, and Alex wasn't doing a thing to stop Adam from destroying it.

  But Ray was dead, and Alex was hoping to live long enough to at least graduate. So he trailed after Adam like a pathetic little puppy, not saying a word as Adam worked his way to the front of the museum, darting from photo to photo, pulling the back out of each one. When the last one was on the floor, glass shattered, Adam bolted for the spiral staircase leading up to Ray Iburg's apartment.

  Alex followed. He watched as Adam yanked the drawers out of Ray's dresser and dumped them. He watched as Adam shoved the mattress off Ray's bed and ran his fingers over every inch. He watched as Adam did an anticleaning job on Ray's closet.

  It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to realize he was searching for something-apparently something little. And something very important to Adam. Important enough to squeeze every toothpaste tube in Ray's bathroom. Important enough to empty every box of cereal in Ray's kitchen. Important enough to slit open every beanbag chair in Ray's living room.

  Alex's stomach clenched as Adam hurled the last empty plastic beanbag skin to the floor. This was it. Adam had searched every inch of the place. Now what was he going to do?

  He turned toward Alex and spoke for the first time since he'd gotten up from the couch. "I need to know where Ray Iburg would have kept anything valuable," he demanded.

  Alex decided this was not the time to show any kind of intimidation. He stepped up to Adam and forced himself to look right into his empty eyes. "You've trashed his museum. You've trashed his apartment. Whatever it is you're looking for, it's not here, all right? It's not here!"

  Adam blinked once. Then he collapsed into a heap on the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  *** 2 ***

  Maria leaned against the closest locker and opened her algebra book. No, that didn't look casual and cool. It looked dorky. She sighed and stuffed the book into her backpack.

  Just give it up, she told herself. It's not like Michael's ever going to believe you just somehow happened to be hanging out two feet away from his homeroom door one minute before the bell rings. He's going to know you're waiting for him.

  At least I'll get to him before Isabel, Maria thought. Duh! Spoke too soon. Seeing Isabel coming her way down the hallway, Maria dropped down on one knee. She untied the lace of her boot and retied it in a double knot, keeping her head as close to her toes as she could get it. Just let her walk on by, she silently begged.

  She didn't know who she was begging to, exactly. Not God. She knew she really shouldn't be asking God for stuff like that. People were starving. People were dying. God really didn't have the time for things like making sure Maria was spared a little humiliation.

  Please just let her walk on by, Maria begged again. If she had to look at Isabel, she didn't know if she'd be able to go through with the plan she'd come up with last night. The plan where she found Michael before school and told him that Liz was right, that he really did need to choose between her and Isabel-and fast because that was the only way Maria would be able to hang on to the single strand of sanity she had left.

  No, if she had to look at Isabel, Isabel with her perfect body, and her perfect hair, and her perfect skin, Maria would lose her nerve. How could she even think about asking Michael to choose between her and all that perfectness?

  Maria jerked on the knot she'd just made. She wanted to untie and retie it one more time to make completely sure Isabel had passed her before she stood up. The knot wouldn't come loose. She picked at it, and the nail on her ring finger broke.

  Oh, great. Now she'd have to ask Michael to choose between her and Princess Isabel while one of Maria's fingers looked like-

  "Hi, Maria."

  Even Isabel's voice was perfect, low and a little throaty. Sexy. Guys would definitely think it was sexy.

  Maria pushed herself to her feet. "Hey," she mumbled. She couldn't stop herself from checking out Isabel's hands. Every French-manicured nail was perfect, of course. If Isabel ever broke a nail, she could just use her powers to heal it.

  You're totally delusional if you think guys ever look at her fingernails, anyway, Maria told herself. Maybe they occasionally look at your nails, but that's only because you don't have quite as many interesting body parts to look at as Isabel does. Well, you have them, sort of, but they aren't-

  "He's at the museum," Isabel said.

  "Who?" Maria asked. Isabel raised one eyebrow in response, and Maria felt heat flood from her hairline all the way down her neck. "Oh, well, I just wanted to tell him welcome back. I didn't really get to talk to him yesterday," she explained, tripping over her words.

  "I'll tell him for you," Isabel answered. "I have guard duty with him tonight. All night." She gave Maria a little wave and continued down the hall. More than one guy's head turned as she passed.

  Maria turned and rushed down the hall in the opposite direction. When she reached the main doors, she burst through and bolted across the quad. She didn't stop running until she got to the bus stop. She was going to the museum. Now. She had to. She had to talk to Michael before Isabel had guard duty with him. All night.


  She yanked open her crocheted purse and dug around for a vial of her cedar oil. She needed to calm down. She didn't want to go flying into the museum and start babbling like an escaped lunatic. Her fingers closed on one of the little vials of aromatherapy oil. She pulled it out. Yes, it was cedar.

  It was also empty. That figured. The last few weeks hadn't been exactly stress-free-with Ray Iburg getting killed by Sheriff Valenti, Max almost dying, and Michael getting captured, not to mention Maria telling Michael she loved him and Michael saying basically nothing in return. Maria pulled the cap off the vial and took a couple of deep breaths, hoping to get some fumes at least.

  When the bus pulled up, she quickly jammed the vial back into her bag. Adults usually did not have good reactions to seeing teenagers with little vials near their noses. As if Maria would ever put anything close to a drug in her body.

  The bus's doors opened with a whooshing sound. Maria climbed on and found a seat. She leaned her head against the window and stared out at the long row of fast-food joints and strip malls lining the north end of Roswell's main street. It would take about ten minutes to get to the museum, with all the bus's stops and starts. She decided to use the time to figure out exactly how to say what she wanted to say.

  Michael, I can't have any kind of normal life until you decide between me and Isabel-

  Too needy.

  Michael, be a man. Choose. Now. Or lose me forever.

  Yeah, right.

  Michael, our friendship is really important to me. And so is my friendship with Isabel. And I know your friendship with Isabel is also very important. I think we're in a situation where all those very important friendships are in danger of-

  Too guidance counselor.

  Maria banged her head against the window a couple of times. She didn't have much more time to think of something. This was what she should have been doing last night instead of writing that essay on Julius Caesar.

  Michael, Michael, Michael, lend me your ears. I come to bury Isabel, not to praise her.

  Way too retarded.

  Only one more stop. Okay, she thought. Okay, okay. I will come up with the exact right thing this time.

  Michael, Isabel took me into one of your dreams. I saw you hugging her. The dream made it pretty clear that you're… that you have feelings for her. And that's totally cool. I just need you to tell me if-

  The bus pulled to a stop in front of the museum. Maria sucked in a deep breath and climbed off. She'd just have to wing it. She hurried to the museum's back entrance, not wanting to lose her nerve. The door was open, so she slipped inside. Pieces of broken glass crunched under her feet as she made her way to the spiral staircase leading to Ray's apartment.

  Michael, I.… she thought as she started up. Michael, I-Michael, I-It was like her brain had a stutter. That's all she could think. Just Michael, I-

  Maria took another step, her head now high enough to see the living-room floor. Her eyes locked onto two pairs of feet. Feet standing very close together.

  She tilted back her head and saw that the feet belonged to Michael and that Cameron girl. Their bodies were close together, too. And Michael was giving her that killer smile of his. The one that turned Maria's insides to warm goo.

  What was he doing? He should be sitting off in a corner making a list of all the things he liked about Maria and all the things he liked about Isabel, doing the whole compare-and-contrast thing.

  Instead he was standing there flirting with a girl he'd known for, what, a week? Maria hadn't liked the way Michael hugged Cameron yesterday, but she figured it was no big deal. Cameron was freaked. Michael was a nice guy, with a streak of big brother in him.

  But he wasn't in big-brother mode right now.

  Maria scrambled up the last few steps. Michael and Cameron both jerked their heads toward her.

  "What's wrong?" Michael demanded. "Did something happen at school?"

  "What?" Maria asked. She unsnagged her long skirt from the stair rail. "Oh no. I, uh, I just decided to skip homeroom. No big deal."

  They both stared at her. Maria felt a rush of self-consciousness. She clasped her hands in front of her, which made her feel like a little girl getting ready to recite a poem. She linked them behind her. That felt weird, too. She crossed her arms over her chest instead. But wasn't that supposed to be defensive body language? She dropped her arms to her sides and ordered herself to stand still for one minute.

  "Michael, I-" she began. Maybe she should have asked to talk to him alone. But it was too late now. "Michael, I-Michael, I-I can't deal with this anymore.… I'm going to end up in some kind of asylum if you don't-"

  Oh no. What am I saying? What am I saying? This was worse than anything she'd thought of on the bus. So much worse.

  "What are you saying?" Michael asked.

  Maria gulped so loudly, she thought it could probably be heard in Texas. "If you don't do what Liz said and choose between me and Isabel."

  There. At least she'd said it. Very badly. But it was out there.

  "You want me to choose. You want me to choose right now?" Michael asked.

  Maria lifted her chin. "Yes. Right now."

  She forced herself to look into Michael's gray eyes. He shot her an angry glare, then looked away. The silence in the room stretched out. He glanced at Cameron.

  "Fine, if that's what you want," he finally said. When he looked at Maria again, his eyes were still angry, but there was something else there. Pity? Sorrow? Marias heart dropped. "Then I'll have to go with neither."

  ***

  Isabel slid a slice of pizza onto her tray, then added a couple of packets of sugar to put on top. Not that using sugar made the pizza edible. She frowned at the layer of oil congealing on top of the cheddar cheese. The cafeteria's pizza sucked.

  Okay, maybe she couldn't expect them to serve brick oven. But would it kill them to lose the leftover spaghetti sauce and try out some mozzarella and basil on a crust that wasn't practically as thick as her binder?

  "Excuse me, young lady," a familiar voice drawled behind her. "I was wondering if you would be so generous as to give me a moment of your time? I'm conducting a little survey for my little paper."

  Isabel didn't turn around. The last thing she needed today was to have a conversation with that big corn dog Elsevan DuPris. It's true that she got a kick out of his little paper, the Astral Projector. She always bought a copy to see if he had another scoop about the bloodsucking alien babies, her faves. But she did not get out a kick out of DuPris.

  "Yes, I'm talking to you, young lady, with your hair the color of Dixie sunshine," DuPris continued. He caught up to her and slid her tray out of her hands. "Allow me. Now, here's today's question-would you consider having a child with an alien if you found yourself madly in love with one?"

  Isabel felt a cold band wrap around her heart. The buffoon had actually hit on a question she'd done a lot of thinking about. Not whether she'd consider having a child with an alien, but whether a human would ever consider having a child with her. She could possibly want to be a mom. Maybe. Someday.

  That's part of what made the idea of being with Michael feel so right. They were the same. He understood her in a way that no human ever would.

  "I can see it's a difficult question. You just take your time," DuPris said. He set her tray down in front of the cashier and smoothed out the sleeves of his white suit.

  "Actually, it's not difficult at all. I'm not interested in having brats of any kind," she told him. She thrust her money at the cashier, grabbed her tray, and strode off. Fortunately DuPris's southern-gentleman deal meant he would never go chasing after a lady who'd made it clear she wished to be alone. About halfway across the cafeteria she hesitated. She saw Alex, Maria, and Liz at the table they always sat at when it was too cold to eat in the quad. But did she really want to go over to them?

  Alex and Maria wouldn't exactly be psyched to see her right now. Still, if she didn't sit with them today, did that mean she didn't sit with them
tomorrow? Did it mean she was out of the group?

  The group is whoever you're with, Isabel told herself. But she shot another look over at the usual table. Liz, Maria, and Alex were her real friends-as opposed to Corrine Williams, Doug Highsinger, and the other members of the school elite that she used to spend most of her time hanging with.

  Even Tish Okabe, Isabel's shopping buddy and loyal follower, didn't come close to being the kind of friend Alex, Liz, and Maria were. That's because the three of them knew the truth about her. They'd been there for her in situations that would have sent anyone else, even Tish, running away at full speed.

  That decided it. Isabel took a sharp right and started toward the table.

  "I didn't know that Isabel was, you know, interested in Michael," she heard Alex say.

  They were talking about her! Isabel turned around and slid in between two guys at the table behind her friends. She flashed an evil look at the loser to her left. She could tell he was about to try to speak to her, and she wanted to hear everything Alex was saying.

  "They practically grew up in the same house. Mr. and Mrs. Evans call him their third child. I've heard them," Alex continued. "I knew Michael and Isabel were close, but I thought it was in that way, not in that other way."

  Poor Alex, Isabel thought, though she was still glad she'd broken up with him. It had to be done. She couldn't keep going out with Alex when every time he kissed her, she ended up thinking about Michael. But she probably could have found a gentler way to do it. Make that definitely.

  Isabel blotted the grease off her pizza, then turned her whole attention back to the conversation going on behind her.

  "So what are you saying? You think that Michael's the reason Isabel broke up with me?" Alex asked.

  "Her attitude toward you did seem to change after we saw Michael's dream," Maria said reluctantly.

  "I don't know if that should make me feel better or worse," Alex said. "I guess it's good to know that she didn't start spending a lot of time with me and then decide that I was worthless scum."