Angela's Alien

by Janet Taylor Lisle

  “There’s also my robin.” Poco’s voice sounded faint. “When Juliette moves to Angela’s, he’ll want to go, too.”

  Georgina was in the middle of an enormous bite. “So what?” she asked in a muffled way that came out sounding like “S-wumph?”

  After some more chewing, she added, “You can whawph—I mean, walk—over anytime and seepim—I mean, see him. Besides, he’s such a mefferpain, he might not go.”

  “Such a what?” asked Mrs. Lambert with a concerned look.

  “A mefferpain!” Georgina said louder. She paused and swallowed. “Such a featherbrain, I meant. He’ll probably forget about Juliette as soon as she leaves.”

  “Oh no he won’t. He’ll go with her. The person he’ll start to forget is me.” Poco raised angry eyes. “I knew this was coming. I’ve been praying every night that something would happen and Angela wouldn’t come home.”

  “That’s awful!” Georgina stopped eating and stared.

  “Well, don’t tell her, since I guess it didn’t work.”

  “Poor Angela. What will you do now?”

  Poco gazed fiercely across the table. “Keep praying, I guess, for something else to happen.”

  chapter four

  PERHAPS POCO HAD ALREADY prayed enough. Angela showed no interest in getting back in touch. She did not call to ask for Juliette that afternoon, and she did not return the telephone messages Georgina left for her during the next two days. “Angela hasn’t called? Well, that’s odd.” The voice on the phone was that of Miss Bone, the Harralls’ peculiar old-lady caretaker. She had agreed to stay on, now that the family was home, to act as “cook, chief mop, and bottle-washer,” as she told Georgina. “And to look after Angela, which she doesn’t much like. I’m afraid I’m a poor substitute for a mother.”

  Mrs. Harrall would be back and forth to California. She was trying to transfer to a closer law school, but so far she hadn’t found one good enough.

  “I know I told Angela you called before, so I suppose she just forgot,” Miss Bone said now. “I’m sure she wants to see you. You’re her oldest friend.”

  “Oh,” Georgina said. “Well, please tell her again.”

  But Angela still didn’t call back. By Friday, Georgina was frantic. “I’m beginning to wonder if something is wrong.”

  “Where is she all the time?” Poco wanted to know.

  “Out shopping. She needs winter clothes. Miss Bone says in Mexico it’s always hot. And yesterday, Angela went to the theater. I stopped by her house, but she was gone.”

  “The theater! Where?”

  “In the city. She went to plays all the time when she lived in Mexico. Angela speaks Spanish just as well as English now.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Miss Bone said so. She said Angela reads books in Spanish, and that she spends a lot of time reading in her room.” Georgina’s mouth took on a defeated look. In the old days, she had been considered the smart one.

  “So she’s not always shopping.”

  “Well, no. But she’s busy today because her mother is home. They have hair appointments.”

  “How horrible.”

  “And tomorrow they’re going to the city for the weekend. Miss Bone says they don’t get to spend much time together.”

  “Oh well. We’ll see her when school starts.” Poco didn’t sound very disappointed. “My mother heard Angela looks completely different.”

  “Different? How?” Georgina’s heart jumped. Angela had seemed so perfect as she was: warm and dependable and loyal to her friends. Though there was one odd thing Georgina remembered. She remembered Angela’s face turning angry and red, and how she’d realize suddenly that Angela’s feelings were hurt. But when she’d try to make up and ask what was wrong, Angela would turn her back and refuse to answer.

  “How different?” Georgina asked Poco again.

  “My mother heard she got really tall. And thin.”

  “Thin!” Georgina couldn’t imagine it. The Angela she knew was short and squarish. She was a person who liked to have seconds on dessert, and thirds if she could get them while no one was looking. And she was chatty and bouncy and full of fun.

  “And quiet,” Poco added. “Someone said she doesn’t talk.”

  On the Saturday before school was to start, Poco saw a picture in the newspaper. It wasn’t a very clear picture, nothing that you would stop specially to look at, or that made very much sense even if you did—until you read the words underneath.

  NEW SIGHTINGS REPORTED AT WICKHAM RESERVOIR Members of the Skywatchers, a local UFO watch group, say they snapped this photograph of unknown objects flying over Wickham Dam last week. The group, which was formed to investigate UFO activity in the area, is seeking reports of other alien sightings. “These are not helicopters! Call us if you see anything like them,” Skywatchers president Madeleine Toska said. “Something weird is going on around here. We should find out what before it’s too late.”

  Georgina went pale when Poco showed her. She read the story again and examined the photo with pinprick eyes. Then she looked up and said, “She’s a fake.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Anyone who says, ‘Something weird is going on around here’ has got to be a fake.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not scientific. It’s stupid.”

  “But we did see something,” Poco insisted. “And the dam isn’t far from my house. Just through the woods.” She drew the photo toward her across the table. They were sitting in Georgina’s kitchen. “It didn’t look exactly like this blurry thing, though.”

  “Like this totally faked picture, you mean,” Georgina said. “If we had taken a picture of what we saw, at least it would have been clear.”

  “But what did we see?”

  “Probably nothing.”

  Poco watched Georgina rub her hands over her eyes. “You don’t think we should just tell one other person?” she asked. “No! No one. Who would we tell?”

  “We could call this woman. Mrs. Toska.”

  “Especially not her. She’s a total fraud.”

  “Well then, how about—”

  “I know,” Georgina said. “Let’s tell Angela!”

  Angela was not the person Poco had been about to suggest. She was going to say Walter Kew, their other school friend. He’d had experience dealing with visions. But Georgina was delighted by her own idea. She looked at once relieved and excited.

  Poco shrugged. “Well, all right, Angela—if you think she’ll care. So far, she hasn’t cared even to know we’re here.”

  “She’s just been busy,” Georgina said. “She meant to call us back, but she kept forgetting. Now this … this will get her notice. This will make her remember how much she missed us.”

  chapter five

  SPEAKING OF VISIONS …

  “What is that?”

  “Where?”

  “Over there.”

  “It’s a limo.”

  “Coming here?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Who’s inside?”

  “I can’t see.”

  “The windows are dark.”

  “It’s coming—”

  “Watch out!”

  “It’s coming straight at us!”

  The appearance of Angela Harrall at school that first Monday morning of classes caused a great commotion. She arrived like a princess in a white limousine, which did not go around to the drop-off place the way cars were supposed to, but turned boldly into the U-shaped “Visitors Only” driveway out front. Several students were nearly run over. The vehicle swept past like a great pale fish and came to a stop in front of the main entrance. A uniformed driver stepped out and went around to the rear door. He pulled it open and stood aside.

  For a moment, there was nothing, just a mysterious dark opening. Then two slim tan legs flashed into view, sporting a pair of eye-catching blue shoes. Next came an arm, a shoulder, a length of dark brown hair, and an intriguing indigo-colored
knapsack. A hand reached down to twitch a short plaid skirt into place. The arrival’s face was hidden behind her hair.

  “Thank you,” a voice addressed the driver.

  “Yes, miss. See you this afternoon.” He drove off, leaving a solitary figure on the sidewalk.

  By now, everyone for a good hundred yards around had come to a halt and was watching. Georgina and Poco, who had just walked up, stood gazing as curiously as the others. Poco was about to wonder out loud if a movie star had come to live in their town over the summer when Georgina let out a screech and began to run toward the mysterious person.

  “Angela. Angela Harrall!”

  This revelation caused an even greater stir among the throngs (more students were arriving every minute) and a whir of whispers and low voices started up. Angela was seen to glance around, startled, and then to focus on Georgina’s onrushing body.

  “Angela! Hello! Hi! It’s me.”

  “Hello,” Angela said. She stepped back to avoid a collision.

  “No, it’s me!” Georgina seemed about to burst. “Me, Georgina. Your old friend.”

  “I can see you,” Angela said. “You don’t have to yell.”

  “But …”

  “You’re stepping on my shoe.”

  “Oh!” cried Georgina, who’d been trying to hug her. “I’m so sorry!” She jumped away. Angela edged back, too. She bent over and rubbed her foot.

  “Did I hurt you?” Georgina shrieked.

  Angela didn’t answer directly. Her hair had fallen over her face again. She stood up and combed it back between fingers whose nails were painted a dashing salon red. “I should go to the office to find my correct class.”

  “Your correct …”

  “Shall we catch up later when things are straightened out?”

  “What?” Georgina was blinking. “What?” But Angela was already gliding off. Her legs flashed out long and splendid. She slung the indigo knapsack over one shoulder.

  “Angela, you’ve gotten so tall!” Georgina’s eyes followed her in wonder.

  “I guess I have,” Angela’s voice came floating back, “because everything here looks so much smaller.”

  It was the last Poco and Georgina saw of her that day. Angela had not been assigned to their room. They were together in dumpy Mrs. Prout’s class. Angela had the new, adorable Miss Glade, but she did not appear with the rest of her class at lunch, or for sports on the playground. And when they got out of school, Angela had gone, though reports of her flew in from all directions.

  The white limousine had come to pick her up early. It was said she had an appointment in the city.

  “More theater?” Poco asked in a sarcastic voice.

  Georgina glanced at her angrily.

  Angela had spent the lunch hour in the faculty lounge with Señora Cardozo, the head Spanish teacher from the high school. Several people had overheard them rattling away in Spanish.

  She couldn’t come out for recess because she’d forgotten her sneakers. Instead, she had been invited to join Miss Heath, the school principal, in her office.

  “Miss Heath! What for?” Georgina wanted to know.

  “To talk about life in Mexico. Miss Heath used to be a friend of her parents.” This tidbit came from Walter Kew, who had happened to be in getting a permission slip signed. “Angela gave Miss Heath a present.”

  “A present!” Georgina nearly choked. “I didn’t know they knew each other so well.”

  “I don’t think they did, at least not up till now. Now Miss Heath absolutely loves her. The present was a beautiful handwoven belt. You know, the ones that have all the bright colors?”

  Georgina was hurt and disgusted. “She didn’t bring any of us anything.”

  “She doesn’t know me,” Walter said.

  “No, that’s right.” Nobody had known Walter back in the days before Angela left. He had been one of those quiet, dopey outsiders—until Poco had met him and made him one of them. Poco never minded having outsider friends. Except now she seemed to mind Angela coming back in.

  “Angela was never a nice person,” she announced in a chilly voice as the three began their walk home from school. “The one time she wrote me from Mexico, she told me that Poco means ‘little bit’ in Spanish.”

  “Angela’s in my room,” Walter confessed. “It’s true that she doesn’t say much. Rachel Carfell heard she’s been asked to be a model.”

  Georgina looked sick. “A model! By who?”

  “Someone from a big modeling company. They send out scouts to find the right type. Angela got found walking along a sidewalk.”

  “Where? Here?”

  “In the city, I guess.”

  Georgina felt a need to rub her eyes again. It all seemed so unbelievable.

  Poco sniffed. “There’s the real reason Angela doesn’t have time for us.”

  “Well, I don’t care. I’m going to see her. I am going right now to knock on her door. If she’s not home, I’ll sit down and wait.”

  “Georgina, you can’t. It’s not polite.”

  “I don’t care. Something’s wrong. Angela’s not like this. If you ask me, it’s not even her.”

  Walter looked interested. “You mean she’s been replaced?”

  “Well, I don’t know!” Georgina screamed at him. “How should I know? She’s just acting wrong.” She turned and stamped away down the street.

  Walter’s pale blue eyes wobbled a bit. No one could upset him so fast as Georgina. Warily, he peered around at Poco, as if she might decide to turn on him, too. But she reached out her hand and pulled him along. “Come on, let’s walk. Don’t bother with her. Anyway, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  “You do?” Walter gazed at her thankfully.

  “Yes. Do you believe in aliens?”

  chapter six

  WALTER DID BELIEVE IN ALIENS. He believed in a lot more than that. Ghosts, spells, invisible powers—he was used to dealing with the unimaginable. He was an orphan who’d been left as a tiny baby in a casserole dish on Mrs. Docker’s front porch. With so much of his family open to question, the unknown was like an everyday companion to Walter.

  “Flying marbles?” he asked mildly when Poco described them. “How high up would you say? And were they spinning?”

  Poco explained. She told him about the Skywatchers at Wickham Dam and Mrs. Toska as they walked along the sidewalk toward their homes. This was the same sidewalk that Poco and Georgina had walked home on with Angela before she’d gone to Mexico. The Harralls’ big, elegant house was not five minutes past Poco’s plain middle-sized one with the broken garage door. Georgina’s family, the Rusks, owned a ranch-style house two blocks over.

  Walter lived in a tiny house with the paint peeling off, just around the corner from Poco. By now, Granny Docker had become so old that she no longer noticed when things needed fixing. Not that she was in any danger of “passing on to her next world,” as Poco said so often of Juliette. But she did not bother with appearances anymore and concentrated instead on the insides of living. Usually, Walter went home directly after school to have afternoon milk and cookies with her. “Granny says she can’t be sure what kind of day it’s been until she’s heard my side of the equation,” he explained.

  Today, when Walter came to the place where he and Poco ordinarily parted company, he didn’t part. He just kept walking.

  “Now I think about them all the time,” Poco was saying about the flying marbles. “I see them, for some reason, floating in my mind. Want to come in?” she added. They had arrived at her front yard.

  Walter nodded. He was pleased to be invited, and not only because of the strange marbles. He kept his eyes down and did not look at Poco as they walked around to the back steps. Walter was fond of her but did not like to show it.

  “My idea,” Poco said as they went into the kitchen, “was to call Mrs. Toska. Angela is not the right person to tell. She’s not interested in investigating things anymore.”

  “It looks that way,
” Walter agreed.

  “The best thing for Georgina to do is leave her alone. Snooty, rich people like Angela can be very hurtful.”

  Walter nodded again. He hoped he didn’t look foolish, agreeing with everything Poco said. Was Angela snooty? He wasn’t sure.

  “Mrs. Toska can tell us what the Skywatchers do. Georgina thinks they’re frauds, but … what do you think?”

  Walter attempted a farseeing squint. “Maybe they are. But then again … maybe they’re not.”

  This came out sounding so utterly spineless, even to his own ear, that his face burst out in a hot pink blush. He backed away into the living room to hide it.

  “Good idea!” Poco shouted to him. “You pick up the phone in there and listen while I call Mrs. Toska. I’ve got her number right here in the newspaper.”

  The amazing thing about Poco was that she never seemed to notice that anything was wrong—not blushes or squints or wimpish agreements. She treated Walter with an easy friendliness, as if he were just like everyone else.

  Walter sat on the couch and picked up the phone. Mrs. Toska herself answered. At first, she wasn’t very nice.

  “Is this a child?” she asked in a rude voice.

  “A child?” Poco said. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, it sounds like someone trying to imitate a child.”

  “Well, it isn’t,” Poco told her definitely.

  Mrs. Toska became more pleasant after that, and she explained how she had to watch out for insults. There were people who thought her silly and childish. The Skywatchers were a serious research group that met every Friday at 9:00 P.M. on Wickham Dam, weather permitting.

  “Permitting what?” Walter asked later, after Poco had hung up. “I’m still not clear about what goes on.”

  “Permitting them to see flying objects, I guess. I decided not to bring up the marbles we saw. Mrs. Toska is sort of the nervous type.”

  “But why on a dam?”