The Wild One

by Melinda Metz

  Why were those clouds in this dream? It would make sense if it were Max or Michael doing the dreaming. But they definitely weren’t. Isabel knew exactly what their dream orbs looked like.

  It’s just a coincidence, she told herself. Acid green clouds could turn up in anyone’s dreams. It’s not like humans couldn’t imagine weird-colored clouds.

  Isabel shoved herself to her feet and headed down the beach. She came to a stand of trees. They were short, shorter than she was, with peeling, papery bark. She had never seen anything like them, but she wasn’t a biology head like Max. These trees could be some ordinary earth variety for all she knew.

  She reached out and pulled off a strip of the flaky bark. Red sap, as glossy as nail polish, began to leak from the tree. The scent hit her nose—sharp and tangy. And familiar. But familiar only from one of her species memories.

  Whose dream was this? Why couldn’t she see them? Was the dreamer hiding from her? Watching her? That had never happened before. But she had never encountered an orb with a metallic surface before, either. She had never had a dream match up with her species memories.

  “Where are you?” Isabel cried. “Who are you?”

  This was getting too creepy. She wanted to get out of here. Next time she would bring Max and Michael into the dream orb with her and they could explore together.

  Isabel stumbled away from the tree. Two strong hands caught her by the waist, steadying her. Then she was pulled up against a broad, bare chest. All hard muscle under smooth skin. She knew she should jerk away. But it just felt too good.

  “Looking for me, Isabel?” a low male voice asked. The feel of warm breath against her ear sent shivers through her.

  “Who are you?” Isabel demanded. She started to turn around—and the dream broke. She was back on her bed, back in her regular clothes.

  She sat up, feeling groggy and disoriented. She dipped her fingers in the glass of water that she had placed on her nightstand earlier and splashed some water on her face. It helped a little. But she still felt half asleep.

  That’s it! Isabel drew a sigh of relief. She must have fallen asleep before she entered the plane where the dream orbs were visible. That explained everything—the strange metallic orb, the acid green clouds, the way it felt like there was no dreamer in the dream.

  Isabel was the dreamer. Yeah, that explained everything.

  Well, everything except those two strange bursts of unexplained power. Those weren’t part of her dream.

  Max tilted back his head, enjoying the feeling of the sun shining down on his face. In another month or so it would be too cold to eat lunch in the quad. But today the weather was perfect. He liked the way he, Liz, Alex, Michael, Maria, and Isabel had gotten in the habit of eating together. Of course, he would like anything that gave him the chance to spend a little more time with Liz. But that wasn’t the only reason. Being surrounded by people who knew the truth about him—and cared about him, anyway—was still an amazing feeling.

  “Well, hush my mouth. Look who’s come calling,” Alex said in an overdone southern accent.

  Max glanced over his shoulder and saw Elsevan DuPris heading across the quad, dressed in his usual rumpled white suit, white Panama hat, and white shoes.

  “Well, hello there, children,” DuPris drawled as he strolled up to them. His southern accent sounded almost as fake as Alex’s. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you would be so kind. I’m working on a story for my little paper.”

  DuPris’s little paper was the Astral Projector. It was Roswell’s answer to the National Enquirer. Except Roswell being Roswell, all the stories were about aliens. Max had never read an issue. The headlines were bad enough. “Alien Baby Melts Mother with a Single Kiss” kinds of deals.

  “Tin sorry. I told my lawyer I wouldn’t talk to the press unless she was present. I’m always being hideously misquoted,” Alex said.

  DuPris ignored him. “I heard that something a tad unusual happened at the football game the other day. Something about a mascot behaving in a most peculiar way, almost defying the laws of physics. Can any of you tell me anything about that?”

  Of all the kids who were at that game, why is he asking us? Max thought. He told himself not to get paranoid. DuPris was obviously a buffoon. This was nothing to get in a sweat about.

  “That was the Guffman mascot, not ours,” Maria told him. “You should go over there.”

  “I shall, I shall. But do y’all have any impressions for me since I’m here and all?” DuPris asked. He rolled his walking stick between his palms, twirling it back and forth.

  “I didn’t notice. I was too busy checking out our new football player,” Liz answered, looking right at Max.

  And Liz Ortecho delivers a crashing punch to Max Evans’s stomach, a little sports commentator voice in Max’s head said. He staggers, but he doesn’t go down.

  “It was a pretty good flip. All of us cheerleaders were saying we should start taking gymnastics lessons to keep up,” Isabel added. She smiled at DuPris, her blue eyes open wide.

  That’s Iz, Max thought. Thinks a pretty smile is all it takes to get her way. And usually it was. Except with him, of course. Brothers are invulnerable to that kind of tactic from their sisters.

  “Oh, don’t be modest,” DuPris cooed. “You’re a fine athlete from what I hear. Everyone’s talking about your performance at the miniature golf course.”

  Isabel stiffened a little. “Oh, pfft, that was just luck,” she said.

  Yeah, right, Max thought. It was totally obvious his sister was lying—at least it was totally obvious to him. Maybe not to DuPris. As soon as DuPris left, Max would have to ask Isabel exactly what her performance involved. Obviously something had gone on that he should know about.

  “I don’t believe in luck,” DuPris said. “Some people believe that we all have an angel on our shoulders and that’s where luck comes from. But I have a different theory.”

  Max tried to keep his face completely blank. Maybe the guy would take a hint that no one wanted to hear his theory and take off.

  “My theory is that our luck comes from alien intervention. I believe there are aliens among us and that sometimes they give us a little help,” DuPris continued.

  Michael raised his eyebrows. “They came billions of miles to help us with miniature golf?” he asked.

  “Well, among other things,” DuPris agreed.

  The bell rang, and Max sprang to his feet. “Got to get to class.”

  “Ah. Well, I thank you for your time.” DuPris tipped his hat and wandered off.

  “Why do I suddenly feel the urge for some southern cuisine every time I see that guy?” Alex asked. He shoved the last bite of his hamburger into his mouth and grabbed his backpack. “See y’all later,” he added. He headed toward the gym.

  “Wait up,” Michael called. He trotted after Alex.

  Maria turned to Isabel. “Are you ready for another round of Julius Caesar?”

  “No, but let’s go, anyway.” They wandered toward the east wing.

  “Alone at last,” Max said to Liz. He meant for it to come out sort of cool and jokey. But instead it sounded lame.

  Liz stood up and stared after Maria and Isabel. “That’s something I never thought I’d see. A few weeks ago Maria was convinced Isabel wanted to kill her, and Isabel …” She shook her head.

  Whoa. Max knew that “alone at last” thing was dorky But he didn’t think it called for a complete subject change.

  Max’s throat got all tight. It felt like there was no way he could squeeze out another word—if he could somehow even think of another word to say. He swallowed hard and followed Liz across the quad and through the doors of the main building.

  The tightness in his throat worked its way down into his chest as they climbed the stairs and silently headed into the bio lab. He could hardly breathe.

  This totally sucked. A month ago, before she knew the truth about him, Max and Liz were friends. True, they weren’t the kind of friends
who ate lunch together or hung out much at all. But they could always talk. About pretty much anything; well, except for the alien stuff. Max could talk to Liz about the things that made Michael’s and Isabel’s eyes turn as blank as marbles. Like theories about how the universe was created or if artificial intelligence programs would ever be able to give computers the ability to feel true emotions.

  Max dumped his books on the lab table. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much things had changed between him and Liz in the past month. First, when she got shot and he used his powers to heal her, the only consequence he’d expected was that he’d have to admit to her he was an alien. But the second he pressed his hands over the gunshot wound, he knew with absolute certainty and clarity that he loved Liz. And his world changed forever.

  He didn’t think there was a chance that Liz could ever love him back. Yeah, maybe on a TV show a totally beautiful, totally smart, totally everything girl like Liz could fall in love with the Amazing Alien Boy or whatever. But that didn’t happen in real life.

  Except that it did. Not all at once. At first Liz was seriously freaked out about Max being an alien. But then she realized that he was the same person he had always been. And somehow … somehow, magically, Liz fell in love with him.

  Max glanced over at her. She was all busy flipping through her notebook. But she was turning the pages so fast, he doubted she could read a single word. She just wanted an excuse not to have to come up with something to say to him.

  Ms. Hardy hurried into the room. Good. Now we can get started on our lab work, Max thought. Something we can still manage to do together without it being completely awkward and uncomfortable.

  “Okay, today’s experiment is going to take almost all the time we have, so listen up,” Ms. Hardy said. “Each team has an unknown substance. Your job is to determine what the substance is, using the information we’ve covered so far this semester. Go on and get started.”

  Liz ripped open the envelope containing their unknown. It was a small strip of metal. She flipped it over in her fingers. “It’s pretty light,” she commented. “What do you want to try first?”

  “Hardness scale?” Max suggested. He pulled open the top drawer of their lab station and pulled out some metal samples. He handed a piece of iron to Liz and she scraped the unknown with it.

  “It scratched. So it’s softer than iron,” she said. She tried the rest of the samples. They all scratched the unknown metal.

  “What do you think? Magnesium?” Max asked.

  “Probably,” Liz agreed. “Let’s try burning it. That will tell us a lot.”

  Max pulled out the Bunsen burner and connected the rubber tube to the gas spigot. He put on a pair of goggles and handed another pair to Liz. She used the striker to light the flame, and Max adjusted the oxygen flow until the flame was the right height.

  Liz picked up the metal sample with a pair of tongs and held it over the flame. When she pulled it out, the metal burned with a brilliant white light, much brighter than the orange flame of the Bunsen burner.

  It’s like when I touched Liz the day she got shot at the Crashdown Cafe, Max thought. I touched her, and it’s like I lit up with this amazing white light. And I knew I was in love with her.

  “I think we were right,” Max told Liz. “You want to try it under some water just to be sure?” He flipped on the cold water faucet, and Liz held the blazing piece of metal under the stream. It made a fizzling sound, but it didn’t go out. Max turned off the water, and the white flame was as bright as ever.

  Nothing is going to put out the light in me, either, Max thought. I’m never going to wake up and find myself out of love with Liz.

  Maybe he should tell Liz he was wrong when he said they had to be just friends. Wasn’t it insane to give up on a fire so blinding, so impossible to quench? How many times was he ever going to feel this way in his life?

  Answer: one. One time. Because there wasn’t another girl like Liz anywhere on this planet or any other.

  And that’s why they had to stay just friends. The closer Liz got to him, the more danger she was in. Max felt pretty sure Sheriff Valenti wanted all aliens on earth dead. And he had a feeling Valenti wouldn’t mind offing any humans who happened to be in the way Including Liz.

  Just friends. Max was starting to hate those two words.

  “Put me down for ten bucks on my girl Isabel,” Tish called. She gave Isabel’s shoulders a squeeze. “I know you can do it,” she whispered.

  “What are you talking about?” Isabel asked. She sat down on the wooden bench in front of her locker and slid on her clogs.

  She had tuned out the conversation when Stacey started critiquing each of their jumping techniques. Isabel never bothered to listen to Stacey when she did her little after-practice lectures while everyone was changing.

  But today she’d tuned out everybody, even Tish. She couldn’t stop thinking about that weird dream she’d had last night. Plus that strange little conversation with DuPris at lunch.

  “We’re talking about the snag-Nikolas contest,” Tish said. “The same thing we’ve been talking about for, like, the last fifteen minutes.”

  Stacey hopped up onto the bench next to her locker. “It sounds like Isabel is going to try to weasel out of this,” she cried. “That means I win!”

  “Isabel’s not weaseling,” Tish protested. “She just wants to know what we’re talking about, you know, what counts as snagging, right, Isabel?”

  “Right,” Isabel answered. If there was a choice between agreeing with Tish or agreeing with Stacey, Isabel was always going to go with Tish, but she was still trying to figure out exactly what she wasn’t weaseling out of.

  “Lunch together in the quad,” Julie suggested.

  “No, tongue kissing in the quad,” Lucinda countered. “Holding hands in the quad,” Tish said.

  Isabel shook her head. Tish should become a diplomat or something. She was always coming up with compromises, trying to make everyone happy.

  “Is holding hands okay with everyone?” Tish asked. Most of the girls nodded or grunted, and no one said no. “Okay, that’s it, then. I’ll hold everyone’s money. We pretty much all eat lunch in the quad, so we’ll be able to see who ends up holding hands with Nikolas first—Isabel or Stacey.”

  Fine, Isabel thought. I got it. To humiliate Stacey, all I have to do is hold hands with Nikolas Branson. No problem. Except for Alex. Alex ate lunch in the quad pretty much every day, too. Which meant he’d see the hand holding.

  Isabel slammed her locker door shut. Hey, she and Alex danced once at homecoming. They went miniature golfing, and she kissed him. That’s it. Well, besides hanging out sometimes with the whole group. She didn’t owe him anything.

  I can’t believe I’m worried about Alex seeing me hold hands with another guy I’m losing it, Isabel thought.

  Isabel was always telling Tish that a little jolt of jealousy was good for keeping a guy’s interest. She wasn’t ready to be anybody’s girlfriend, even Alex’s. She wanted to be free to have fun—with whoever she pleased. But somehow it didn’t feel right to play games like that with Alex. She just had a feeling he’d see right through her. He understood her. And he got to her in a way that other guys didn’t.

  Maybe the whole snag-Nikolas contest was a good thing. It would remind Alex and her that there was nothing serious going on between them.

  Isabel added a little dark blue mascara to her lashes, which made her eyes look even bluer. She touched up her lipstick and dabbed on a little of the perfume Maria mixed up for her. She loved the combination of citrus and spice. She just wasn’t the sweet flowery type.

  “So are you going to look for him now?” Tish asked, keeping her voice low.

  “That’s right. Stacey’s not going to have a chance,” Isabel answered, loud enough for everyone to hear. She strolled out of the locker room and into the gym. She decided the bleachers would be a good place to wait for Nikolas to “run into” her.

  The door to the guys’ l
ocker room swung open. Isabel took a quick peek. Just John Andrews and Richard Jamison. She gave them a little smile, just to sort of get the guy-attracting muscles warmed up. They veered toward her. Oops. She didn’t mean to actually encourage them to come over.

  Isabel flipped open her binder and locked her eyes on one of the pages. John and Richard hesitated, then continued out of the gym. Good boys, Isabel thought. She could have kept them around so that when Nikolas came out she had a little entourage around her. But some guys didn’t like that. It intimidated them or something. Nikolas didn’t especially look like a guy who was bothered by a little competition, but it didn’t hurt to play it safe. She could always get a couple of the other football players to come over and flirt with her if Nikolas turned out to be the type who enjoyed beating out other guys.

  The door to the girls’ locker room opened, and Stacey bounced into the gym. Isabel waved to her, and Stacey’s lips turned down in a tiny frown. She wasn’t pleased that Isabel had staked out the bleachers. Poor baby.

  Isabel couldn’t stop a grin from stretching across her face as Stacey flounced out of the gym. A few seconds later Craig Cachopo and Doug Highsinger burst out of the guys’ locker room. They did some loud mock fighting as they passed the bleachers. Isabel wondered how guys ever got it in their heads that this somehow impressed girls. As if she was going to look at one of them and think, Whoa, that boy does a pretty convincing fake choke hold. I want him.

  A couple of Stacey-ettes practically skipped past her. Tish came out of the locker room a few seconds later. She just gave Isabel a little wave and kept on walking. She obviously didn’t want to cramp Isabel’s style. Then Tim Watanabe scurried past, head down. Isabel couldn’t figure out how he could be so shy everyplace but on the football field. When he was out there, he was a total maniac. Maybe the coach should start giving him pep talks after games instead of before them.

  Come on, Nikolas, I’m getting bored, Isabel thought. She started doing little fashion critiques on everyone who passed her just to amuse herself. But eventually people stopped coming out of the locker rooms. Where was Nikolas? Was he dressed and out of there before she got to her spot in the bleachers?