Alien Superstar

by Henry Winkler

  “By the way, you should leave your costume with the wardrobe department so they can get it dry-cleaned.”

  “Oh, thanks, but dry-cleaning isn’t necessary,” I said. “And neither is wet-cleaning. I don’t sweat.”

  “Have it your way,” he said with a shrug. “Meet me in my office in ten minutes to sign the contract. And bring your parents. You’re underage, so they have to sign the contract for you.”

  I froze right there in my tracks.

  Bring my parents?

  Now, that was going to be a problem.

  6

  I was in a daze as we left Stage 42 and walked back into the sunlight.

  “Dude,” Luis was saying. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. New actors usually spend years waiting tables before they get their first job.”

  “What are they waiting for the tables to do?” I asked.

  Luis laughed and slapped me on the back, which made my sensory enhancer let out a little cough. I quickly put my hand over my mouth and pretended that’s where the cough was coming from.

  “Be serious, Buddy,” he said. “The job you just got is practically a costarring role.”

  “Luis, I have a big problem with this job,” I said, “and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Okay, let’s sit down and talk. That’s what friends are for. And now that you’re a star, I’m appointing myself your best friend.”

  Luis headed over to a truck parked by Stage 42 and I followed him, my suction cups popping on the ground until I remembered to walk on my tiptoes. Inside the truck, I could see racks of costumes—everything from a queen’s velvet robe with a jeweled collar to a space suit that looked remarkably like the uniforms of the Squadron on my planet. Luis perched himself on the open tailgate and gestured for me to sit down.

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  I took a seat next to him.

  “I can’t sign the contract,” I said. “I don’t have parents.”

  “What do you mean you don’t have parents? What were you, hatched from an egg?”

  “Actually, it was more like a gestational pod.”

  Luis was my best friend—he just said so. It didn’t seem right to hide the truth from him. If I was going to trust anyone with my secret, now was the time.

  “Luis,” I began. “I know this is hard to believe, but I actually am an alien. I come from a red dwarf planet eight galaxies away.”

  Luis put his head in his hands and covered his face. I thought I had made him cry. I understood. If I had met the first human to ever come to my planet, I would have cried too.

  It turns out he wasn’t crying. He was overwhelmed with frustration.

  “Buddy, I’m going to talk to you man-to-man,” he said, uncovering his face. “You are about to screw up the opportunity of a lifetime. If you continue to spout this alien nonsense, they will take the part away from you. And while we’re at it, your sense of humor is wearing me out. You’ve got to knock it off.”

  I sat there on the truck and let his words sink in. These humans, even someone as nice as Luis, were not prepared to accept me for what I was. An alien was too alien for them. That hard fact left me with no choice.

  “Okay,” I said to Luis. “I’ll knock it off. I just don’t want to hurt it.”

  “Buddy, you’re hurting my brain. Enough already.”

  “Okay, here’s the truth,” I said. “My parents are archaeologists searching for a lost city under the Sahara Desert. They’re unreachable.”

  If you’re wondering where that little gem came from, it was the plot of one of the movies Grandma Wrinkle and I loved to watch. My favorite part was when the hero fell into the pit of deadly snakes because we don’t have any snakes on my planet and it was the first time I had ever seen one. But I left the snake part out.

  “Archaeologists?” said Luis. “Wow, that’s cool. So who’s watching you?”

  Another one of my favorite old movies popped into my head.

  “I’ve run away from a boarding school for orphan boys where they feed us lumpy porridge and day-old bread. The kid in the bed next to me was named Oliver. He’s the only one who knows I’m gone.”

  Luis didn’t seem to know that movie because he believed every word I said.

  “Oh man,” he said. “That makes it even more important that you get this part. We can’t have you sent back to the orphanage.”

  We sat there on the truck, thinking. A large man with a mustache was walking past us, pushing two gigantic lights on stands with wheels. Behind him two other people were taking a piece of scenery that looked like a castle drawbridge off a truck and carrying it through a stage door. A wardrobe woman in the truck we were sitting on was fitting an actress for her all-black witch’s costume.

  It was great here on the back lot. I wanted to stay.

  “There has to be someone else who can sign for me, other than my parents,” I said.

  “You’re a minor,” Luis explained. “The only people who can sign for you are your parents or a guardian over eighteen years old.”

  A light went on in both our heads at the same time.

  “Are you?” I asked.

  “I turned eighteen the third of last month.”

  “Will you?” I asked.

  “I’ll give it a try. Of course, they may ask for proof that I’m your guardian. But hey, it’s worth a try.”

  We found the director’s office in a trailer not far from Stage 42. I would have thought a director’s office would be fancier and bigger, but this was a little cubicle on wheels, next to a lot of other cubicles that said things like PROPS, TRANSPORTATION, LIGHTING, SCRIPT DEPARTMENT. Luis and I walked up the metal steps and found Duane sitting at a beat-up desk.

  “Where are your parents?” he asked as soon as he saw me.

  “They’re treasure hunters in the Gobi Desert,” Luis piped up.

  “Right, and I’m King Kong,” Duane snapped.

  “Actually, they’re archaeologists in the Sahara Desert,” I explained.

  “Sahara, Gobi, Mojave,” Luis said, jumping in to cover for himself. “What does it matter? They’re all full of sand.”

  “Who’s going to sign for you?” Duane asked. “I can’t have you working tomorrow without a signed contract.”

  “I’m his guardian until his parents get back,” Luis said. “I’ll sign.”

  Duane studied Luis for a moment. “And who are you, exactly?”

  “Luis Rivera. I’m taking care of Buddy at the moment.”

  “You got proof that you’re the kid’s guardian?”

  “Sure, but it’s in my sock drawer at home. I didn’t know I was going to need it today. By the way, I’m also an actor and I’d be happy to drop off my picture and résumé anytime.”

  “Save the pitch,” Duane said. “Today is the day we need the papers signed, so bring me what you got tomorrow, and for now, just put your name on the dotted line.”

  While Luis was signing the contract, Duane looked over at me.

  “You’ll need to get a photo identification card before you can start work. One of the production assistants will take you in the morning and show you where to get your picture taken.”

  “I can take him,” Luis said. “After all, I am his guardian.”

  “Great,” I said. “This costume photographs really well.”

  “Buddy, don’t be so dense,” Duane said. “It’s a studio rule that everyone on the lot needs an identification photo for security purposes. That means a photo of your face, not of your costume.”

  “He knows that,” Luis said. “He was just kidding.”

  “I was?”

  “Yes, you was,” Luis snapped, then turning to Duane he added, “This kid is a joke a minute.”

  “Maybe you can get that under control, Buddy,” Duane said. “And remember, having Luis sign this contract is only temporary. As soon as your parents get back, I’ll need them to officially sign it. If you’re still on the show, that is.”

  “Of course
they’ll sign,” I reassured him.

  “Okay, then we’re done here,” Duane said. “I’ve got to get my camera shots lined up for the show. Buddy, see you tomorrow with your photo ID and your lines memorized.”

  Luis hurried down the metal steps and I tried to follow, but my suction cups had locked into place on the top step.

  “Move it, Buddy,” Luis whispered. “You got the job. Let’s go before he changes his mind.”

  “I’m trying. Everything about me is saying yes, but my suction cups are saying no.”

  Luis grabbed me under my arms and yanked me up in the air. He pulled so hard I thought I left some suction cups behind, but fortunately, my species has evolved so well that they all came with me. When we were clear of the trailer, Luis turned to me and held up his hand for a high five.

  “We did it,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you did all this for me. What are we going to do now?”

  “Now I’m going back to work so I don’t get fired. And then I got a dinner date with Olivia. You met her in the lunchroom.”

  “I did?”

  “Yeah, Olivia. The tiger woman. We’re going out for dinner. She likes to rip apart raw meat with her teeth.”

  “She does?”

  “It’s a J-O-K-E, Buddy boy. Breaking news . . . She’s not really a tiger. What about you? Can I give you a ride home? Where are you staying?”

  “Oh, I don’t need a ride. My place is very close.”

  “Okay then, Buddy. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning to get you set up with your photo and then walk you over to Stage 42. Where should I pick you up?”

  “How about the spaceship?” I suggested. “We both know where it is.”

  “Okay. Eight thirty. See you then. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “What exactly wouldn’t you do,” I asked, “so I know not to do it?”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”

  “My grandmother always says that there’s no such thing as a dumb question.”

  “Well, you can tell your grandmother you just invented one. See you tomorrow morning, dude.”

  With a wave, Luis jogged off to the path that led back to the tourist area.

  It took me a long time to find my way back to the spaceship. By the time I got there, the sun was going down and most of the tourists had left. As I climbed into the vehicle, a guard tapped me on the shoulder. I was so startled that I must have jumped ten feet in the air.

  “Can I see your identification badge?” he asked.

  “Oh, I just started today. I’m getting my picture taken first thing in the morning.”

  I held my breath, hoping he’d believe me. There was silence, then I heard a growling noise like there was a small animal inside his stomach.

  “You’re lucky I’m hungry,” he said, patting his belly. “I got a baloney and cheese sandwich waiting for me in the guard shed. I like it with just a touch of mustard.”

  “I hear mustard is great on pretzels,” I said.

  He nodded and I could see that we had made a mustard connection.

  “I’m going to let you off with a warning,” he said. “Just be sure you have your photo ID next time I see you. Now get on home.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. “I just have to crawl in here and get my stuff.”

  “I get it.” He grinned. “Forget your ray gun?”

  “Actually, it’s my laser sword,” I said, laughing.

  “Kids today,” he said, laughing hard as he walked away.

  I glanced around to make sure there was no one else in sight, crawled inside, and locked the hatch behind me.

  There I was, all alone. I sat down in the pilot’s seat and let the events of the day sink in. I had a new planet. I had a new best friend. And if I could somehow manage to get that identification photo, I’d have a new job. All I needed was a new face.

  7

  Grandma Wrinkle and I had planned a new identity for me, knowing that when I got to Earth, I was going to have to look human. She had been working on a process called biological alteration, which would use electricity to make my molecular structure shift into a human type. She had tried it first on plants, and after many failures, finally succeeded in turning honeywort into butterflies. Then she experimented with insects and was able to make an ordinary beetle look like a fire-bellied toad. It stayed that way for eight days, until its molecules reverted back to beetle form.

  Her plan was to create a biological alteration device I could take with me to Earth, which would allow me to assume a human form when I needed it. While she worked on perfecting one, I worked on choosing a human face that she could program into the device. This isn’t as easy as it sounds. What face would you pick, if you could look like anyone in the world?

  “You should pick whoever you want,” Grandma Wrinkle said. “I can’t promise, but I’ll try to come as close as I can.”

  “I don’t know where to begin,” I told her.

  “Where you always do,” she said, her six eyes gazing warmly into all six of mine. “At the movies.”

  I went over all the movie characters I loved. At first, I thought I wanted to look just like that hotshot fighter pilot whose face never showed fear, even when he was executing high-altitude loops and barrel rolls. But I also wanted to have the rugged look of the FBI special agent who single-handedly brought the evil mob boss to justice. Oh, but there was also the steely face of the race car driver who could handle the straightaways and the curves at top speed without even blinking.

  “Those are interesting choices,” Grandma Wrinkle said, “but you need to pick someone close to your age. I don’t think people on Earth are used to seeing an adult face on a kid’s body.”

  When she said that, I knew exactly who I’d want to look like. Zane Tracy. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, because he made movies a long time ago, but he was the star of a bunch of classics called Zane Tracy, Teenage Zombie Fighter. He took on armies of zombies, and he didn’t care if they wanted to eat his brains. I could watch those movies over and over and never get bored, even though I knew how they ended.

  Zane Tracy. That was my guy.

  I settled into the pilot seat of my spaceship and looked out the window at the empty back lot. The last time I looked out that window, it was filled with thousands of people. Now it was filled with only shadows and moonlight. Looking up at the night sky, it struck me that I was on Earth, and out there, among all those stars, was my home, which I might never see again.

  I shook myself back into the present and pushed the silver button on the dashboard, which popped open a mini-projector.

  “Begin now,” I said.

  Suddenly, Grandma Wrinkle appeared before me.

  “If you are watching this, then I know your journey is complete and you have arrived safely,” she said.

  “I can’t believe it’s you, Grandma Wrinkle. It’s as if you’re right here with me.”

  I wanted to throw my arms around her and never let her go, but of course I couldn’t because she was just a hologram. My sensory enhancer didn’t understand that, and when it heard her voice, it reached out in her direction, making kissing sounds. But it was only kissing air.

  “You are now about to watch the instructional manual I created to help you transform into Zane Tracy,” the hologram said. “The first step is to reach into the compartment that holds the titanium vial of liquid crystal.”

  I popped open another compartment on the dashboard. It was the wrong one. There was no titanium vial inside, but there was a nutritional wafer staring me in the face. I grabbed it and was about to take a bite when the hologram spoke up.

  “If I know you, you’re eating right now,” Grandma Wrinkle said. “Don’t. This is a time to concentrate.”

  That’s the thing about Grandma Wrinkle. She knows me so well, I can never get away with anything. I popped open another compartment, reached my hand inside, and brought out a gleaming metal vial dangling from a chain. It fit perfectly
in the palm of my hand.

  “This is your amulet,” Grandma Wrinkle said. “As we discussed, you must wear it around your neck at all times and never let it out of your sight. It contains liquid quartz from our planet, which transmits the electrical energy you will need for biological alteration. Put it on now. I’ll wait.”

  I slipped the chain around my neck. The amulet felt so light it was practically weightless. It was the first time I had worn it, because Grandma Wrinkle was working on it right up until my birthday. We never had a chance to actually test it out before the Squadron came to get me.

  “I have programmed the face and body of Zane Tracy and placed them inside the amulet,” Grandma Wrinkle explained. “If my science is correct, when you hold the amulet in the palm of your hand and focus your mind, you will complete the electrical connection that allows your molecular structure to change. Memorize this diagram.”

  It was a very complicated diagram, so it took me seventeen seconds to absorb it, much longer than my usual four. Grandma Wrinkle knew that, because exactly seventeen seconds later, the hologram started talking again.

  “Grandson, it’s crucial that you know this. On our planet, a biological alteration lasts for three days, but remember our rotation around the sun is faster than that of Earth, and our atmosphere is different. Without having samples of Earth’s air, I cannot do the calculations to figure out how long your transformation will last on Earth. You will have to find that out for yourself.”

  Suddenly, there was a crackling sound followed by a burst of light, and Grandma Wrinkle disappeared back into the dashboard.

  “Wait,” I said, pushing the silver button frantically. “Don’t go! I need to know more.”

  My shouts were met by silence.

  “Grandma Wrinkle,” I called. “Can you stay with me while I try it out? I’m frightened. What if it doesn’t work? What if it works too well and I can never get back to myself?”

  But Grandma Wrinkle’s image had disappeared. I was going to have to do this by myself. Taking a deep breath, I grasped the amulet tightly, letting all seven of my fingers wrap around my hand twice. I closed my eyes and waited for the process to begin.