Sia Martinez and the Moonlit Beginning of Everything

by Raquel Vasquez Gilliland

  I lean over and my bed creaks. We’re both sitting against the headboard, computers in our laps.

  “Hmm,” I say. “But here, it says that the Aurora project comes from reverse engineering.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Okay, I know this from my mom. She’s got—I mean, she had a degree in computer science. Robotics. So, yeah, reverse engineering is when you look at a machine or something and you figure out how it works by studying it. Then you apply that to something else. So here, it says that reverse engineering is a huge thing with extraterrestrial spacecrafts. All the government is interested in is gaining technological knowledge. And making new stuff from it.”

  Noah narrows his eyes. “So maybe the human-made Aurora craft comes from studying a similar UFO craft?”

  I shrug. “That’s what this site says.”

  “Whoa,” he says, pointing at his screen. “There’s only been one good photo taken of one of these. By a British guy, I guess. Take a look.”

  I lean again. Goosebumps run along my flesh. “Holy shit, Noah. That’s it. That’s exactly what we saw.” Triangle, blue lights on the corners. The proportions are exact.

  I lean back. “What on earth is it doing here?”

  He gazes at me and his lips quirk up ever so slightly as he shrugs.

  62

  I CAN’T HELP IT. I kiss Noah again. Surprise, right? It’s like we’re magnets or something. Or he is the sun, expanding, and I, la tierra, want nothing more than his heat. Whatever metaphor I can come up with isn’t quite accurate, really. All I know is he’s on top of me, his hands cup my face, my fingers slide along his back. And I can feel all of him all over all of me.

  I want to be okay with my body.

  I want to be okay with his body.

  I want to undo everything that’s been done to me.

  I pull back and look at him, at the olive and gold spots in his eyes. “I want you.”

  His eyes widen. “What? You mean…”

  “Yes.”

  He looks completely stunned. “Okay, Sia. I need, I mean, I… I need you to be very specific with what you mean by that. Because I’m not sure—”

  “I want to have sex,” I say.

  “Now?” he says. “Are you sure?”

  I nod.

  He glances around. “I—I didn’t bring a condom or anything.”

  “I have one. From health class.”

  He kisses me again, then lowers his lips to my neck. One of his giant hands eases under my shirt. He lets out a low groan when I reach for his belt buckle.

  63

  THERE’S SO MUCH SKIN CONTACT, even though we both still have our underwear on. I love that he’s taut, that he has a farmer’s tan. I love the sharp indentations at his hips. When I touch him there, he shudders.

  And then I feel it. It. On my leg.

  I can’t move. Or breathe.

  “Hey, hey,” he says, pushing his torso up. “Are you okay?”

  “Your penis.”

  He looks down. “Uh—”

  “Put it away.”

  Now he looks confused. “Put your fucking pants back on, Noah,” I grit out, and he jumps up. When he’s got the button worked in, I let out a long, shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. When I don’t respond, he goes on. “I knew it was too soon. I should’ve never agreed…” He trails off when he sees my tears. “Shit, Sia. Can I—is it okay if I sit here?”

  I nod and he puts his arms around me. I lean into him and weep.

  When I can speak again, I tell him about a mean boy pushing my face to his ugly dick. About how dicks have freaked me out ever since and I wanted to be fixed, fixed so badly, I want the thousands of pieces of me to be sewn back together again, but without seams, like I was before, before Rose and I fought, before Justin, before the McGhees. Before my mother became bones in the desert.

  And he doesn’t say anything; he holds me, he holds me, he holds me until the light coming through the windows turns dusk blue.

  64

  “I’M SORRY YOU AND ROSE fought because of me,” he says.

  “It’s not your fault.” I sigh. “I just. I can’t remember when we’ve ever been this mad at each other. I’m still so mad at her. And even though it makes no sense, I miss her.”

  “Tell me about how you guys became friends.” Noah’s stroking my hair and it’s making me calmer. Almost lazy.

  “It was the first day of middle school. I’d gotten a new backpack. Those sporty ones, you know, made of mesh? I thought they were so cool.”

  Noah laughs a little. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about.”

  “So middle school right?”

  “So middle school.” He kisses my hand. Even with me feeling like crap, his lips leave little shivers on my skin.

  “Anyway, what’s not advertised with those kinds of book bags is they don’t have good support. By the end of the day, my bag was full of textbooks, and I was walking by the bus loop, where it seemed like the whole school population was hanging out.”

  “Uh huh…”

  “And the zipper just ripped open. Right then and there. And my books, pens, pencils, every piece of paper in the world, everything, it all came out like an avalanche. I turned and everyone was watching me. And, this part was like in slow motion, everyone started pointing and laughing. One by one. My face was so red. I almost burst into tears right then and there.”

  “But something happened, right? Something stopped those tears.”

  “Someone. Rose.” I swallow. “She came running out, saying, Oh, my gosh, are you okay? And then she bent down and helped me pick everything up. And she was like, You go to St. Julian’s right? My dad is the music director there. And she walked home with me, because her brother was running late, and we ate plantain chips with French onion dip and watched Hannah Montana reruns until Abel came and got her.” I pause. “And that’s how Rose has always been. She’s so kind. She’s the best person I know. That’s why I can hardly understand how we got in this mess to begin with.”

  “You’ll be friends again soon,” Noah says.

  I’m crying again. “You sure about that?” I say. “I said some pretty mean stuff last time I saw her.”

  “You guys, you care about each other. And you said Rose is kind, and you’re kind, too, Sia. Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah. I hope so.” I sigh and dry my tears on Noah’s shirt. I love that he doesn’t mind at all.

  65

  “MY DAD HIT MY MOM,” he says. “THAT’S WHY WE LEFT him, this place.”

  I look at him. “But you’re back living with him? That’s so messed up. Does he hurt you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I think he only likes to hit women for some reason.” He pauses. “For a long time, she was scared to go places, even the grocery store. She had this fear that she’d see him and he would—he’d kill her this time.”

  I put my hand on his. He entwines our fingers.

  “But eventually, she was okay. Happy, even. She could go out, be with people. Go grocery shopping.” He turns to me. “You’re… God, Sia. You’re perfect. Not broken. Perfect.”

  He pulls me into his chest. “And soon, this thing you’re scared of?”

  “You can say it, Noah. I’m scared of penises.”

  “Yes. That fear. The penis fear.” I smile as he continues. “It’ll pass, Sia. It will.”

  66

  WE’RE KISSING AGAIN. I WANT him so badly, not just because I want to be fixed. But also because I feel something tingly and devastating pulsing through my body when I touch him and it feels like I can’t get enough, like nothing in the whole world can be enough.

  When I tell him this, he smiles and lowers himself down the bed. He slides his lips over my hip and I gasp. “I think I can help you with that,” he says. “If you’re okay with it, I mean.”

  67

  NOW I KNOW HOW THE universe was created by touch. Now I know. Now I understand. That woman out there, what sh
e desperately wanted was not a baby. That came later. First there was someone who knew how to make her feel so good, planets and their teal rings and full moons and nebulas and nothing and everything came from her, from her hips and hair and the tips of her fingers. Later, there was a baby, and yes, her milk made the stars. But first, there was this. Me, my legs shaking, pulling Noah’s mouth closer. Closer.

  68

  WHEN DAD GETS HOME, NOAH and I are eating pizza on the couch, watching The X-Files.

  “M’ija,” he says. “No debes estar sola en casa con un muchacho que has estado besando.” I huff, but he continues. “New rule. Noah’s not allowed over unless I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Noah stammers.

  Dad stares at him and a smile spreads across his face. “Noah, you busy tomorrow?”

  “Oh, no,” I say.

  “Oh, yes,” Dad says. “Come over in the morning. We’ll do a little practice.”

  “Oh, your fighting practice? Sure, I’ll be here. Looking forward to it, sir.” Noah looks a little sick.

  “You don’t have to come,” I tell him as Dad saunters to the kitchen. “He’s just teasing you.”

  “If I don’t come, he’ll think I’m a coward,” Noah whispers.

  “Suit yourself,” I say. “But I know my father. He’s going to make me kick the shit out of you.”

  “I’d rather you than him.”

  I shrug. “Okay, then.”

  69

  “WILD,” NOAH SAYS, LEANING BACK against the sofa. I’ve just sat down with another bowl of brown butter popcorn, remote in my hand.

  “What it is?” I ask, scrolling through season four. We’ve just finished Noah’s favorite episode, “Max,” about a really nerdy alien abductee living in a trailer. Now it’s my turn to choose.

  “Look at this.” He angles the computer screen toward me.

  “ ‘The Truth About Everything They Don’t Want You to Know,’ ” I read aloud. “ ‘Proceed with caution, because Big Brother is watching.’ ” I snort. It’s a blog or something, its background black and lit with twinkling stars, the headings of each entry in a Ransom font.

  “He’s from Bloomington. Been tracking the blue lights in the desert based on tips. Says there have been sixteen more sightings than what’s been reported by the paper.”

  “Okay.” I furrow my brow. “That’s interesting, I guess.”

  “He says it’s escaped from some top government alien baby facility? In…” He scrolls a bit, tapping his fingers on the computer in a little beat. “Colorado?”

  “Come on. That’s entirely made up.”

  “What, you don’t believe there’s a human and extraterrestrial breeding program in Denver?” He smiles and winks.

  “Noah.” I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to humor a blog by a guy named, what was it…” I lean over, placing a hand on his thigh, ignoring the way he immediately stiffens and clears his throat. “Are you freaking kidding me? He calls himself Sabertooth?”

  “Maybe he’s an X-Men fan.”

  “No way. He spelled it all wrong.”

  Noah shrugs. “Okay, he says he has to remain anonymous, or—”

  “Oh, let me guess. Or else men in black will bang down his door, take him away to breed with little green women?”

  Noah shrugs, smiling. “I know. It sounds bananas. I just think it’s fascinating.”

  I nod. “It is fascinating that there are people out there who actually believe this crap.”

  “Alright, alright,” Dad says, appearing in the doorway. I pull my hand back from Noah’s leg when Dad narrows his eyes at me. “It’s almost ten. Noah’s gotta go.”

  “Dad! One more episode,” I say, waving the remote around for emphasis. “The one with la Chupacabra? Please.”

  Dad scoffs and folds his arms. “Fine. But only because that’s a good one.” He plops down next to me, swiping the popcorn bowl. Noah begins drumming on his laptop like a madman.

  “Oh my god,” I say to Dad. “What are you doing?”

  “Good popcorn,” Dad says, grabbing the remote. “Let’s start it, then.”

  70

  NEXT DAY, DAD HAS US warm up with some push-ups. Noah’s not bad—he says he’s worked up some endurance from biking. He can even do a few more than me, but I’ve always been weaker up top.

  “Now some high kicks,” Dad says. He has me go first. I start low but get higher and higher until we do a few jump-kick combos.

  “Looks good, Sia,” Noah says. “Good form, good posture.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re saying,” I say, waving him off. “Here, your turn. Kick.”

  I begin laughing immediately. He looks like a fawn trying to stand for the first time. “You can’t even stretch your leg out, can you?”

  “I can,” he says. “When I’m sitting down.”

  “Man, you need to work on your flexibility. Yoga or something.”

  “Let’s just focus on lower kicks for now, Noah,” Dad says. I stretch my arms and back away as they complete their drill.

  “Can you do any flips?” Dad asks Noah.

  “I can flip into a pool,” Noah supplies.

  My dad doesn’t look impressed. “Sia, let’s practice some off the house.”

  I run as fast as I can, climbing the wall a couple strides before throwing myself backward on my feet.

  “Holy shit,” Noah says.

  “Again,” Dad orders. I repeat a few more times until I feel too dizzy. I drink water as Noah gives it a go. He takes a breath, runs, but doesn’t go high enough. He breaks mid-flip and falls.

  “Not bad,” I say, helping him up. “Way better than my first try.”

  He tries about four more times until he finally lands on his feet. He’s wobbly, but it’s a huge improvement in a short amount of time.

  “Well,” Dad says. “You’re not as bad as you look.”

  “Dad!”

  “Ah, I’m just playing. Let’s work on sparring.”

  “Uh—what now?” Noah asks.

  Dad goes over a few basic steps with him, and then turns to me. We block each other’s punches and kicks for a bit. But then I see Noah watching, his lovely lips pursed, and it distracts me for one second too long—Dad’s got his hand around my throat. “If someone got you here, what’s your next move?” I go to knee him in the groin, stopping just short. “Good.” He releases me. “Next, Artemisia. You know what we need to do.”

  I groan. “Fine.”

  “Noah,” my dad says. “Attack her from behind.”

  “Attack her?” Noah says. “You mean, like—”

  “Just run up and grab my arms or something. Don’t go easy on me,” I say.

  “Don’t go easy on him,” Dad says, pointing at me, then Noah.

  Noah does what he’s told, and to his credit, he’s strong. I can’t wriggle away. “Now,” my father commands.

  I throw my head back against Noah’s chin. “Ow, Jesus—” Whip my right elbow back and strike his shoulder, then do the same on the other side. “Christ!” Take a deep breath and stomp on his feet. “Holy—” Rake my heel over his shin. “Shit!” His arms have loosened, so I throw them over one shoulder, bend my knees, and use all my weight and strength to flip him over my back. He hits the ground with a thud, all sprawled in a daze, looking like he can’t believe what just happened.

  “Qué bien, Sia!” Dad runs over, whooping, picking me up with a hug and twirling me around like I’m a little kid.

  “Dad, calm down. You’re the one who said you knew I could do it.”

  “I did,” Dad said. “And you can. Though Noah es muy flaco. You need to try on someone bigger next time.”

  “Oh, shut it.” I roll my eyes.

  “Uh,” Noah croaks. “Some help, please?”

  71

  AFTER SHOWERING, I WALK INTO my bedroom, where Noah’s at my desk with his computer.

  “Don’t shut the door,” he says. “Your dad just gave me another lecture. On us not being alo
ne and stuff.”

  “Oh God.” I plop on my bed. “He didn’t threaten you or anything, did he?”

  “Nah. I mean, he did make a comment on how skinny I am and how you could kill me with your bare hands, but other than that…”

  I laugh, grabbing my hair to braid it. “I was expecting worse, honestly.” We’re silent for a few seconds as Noah watches my fingers in my hair.

  “Hey,” he says, snapping out of it. “You know that conspiracy theory guy, Sabertooth?”

  “How could I forget?” I respond, whipping my braid over my shoulder. “I mean, you discovered his weirdness just yesterday.”

  “Right. Well, I, uh, kinda emailed him about what we saw the other night. In the desert? When you asked me to… and for the first time, you know, we—”

  “Kissed?” I lean back against my headboard.

  I can practically hear the peach blush appearing on Noah’s cheekbones. He coughs. “Um. Yeah. That.”

  I’m smiling before I can stop myself, but then I scoff. “So what about this loser, Sabertooth?”

  “Well, he wants to meet us. Tomorrow. At the diner?”

  “No.”

  “Please, Sia.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll buy you pie, yeah?”

  I shake my head. “Why do you want me to meet him so badly?”

  There are several moments of silence. I mean, I can’t even hear us breathing. Finally, he speaks. “Because you’re my, uh, gir—friend. You’re my friend. And it seems like it’s going to be a weird and creepy experience. And I want to share it with you. If nothing else, we could totally laugh at him afterward.”

  I nod slowly. “Fine. We’ll give him one hour of our time. And you need to buy me a mint chocolate chip milkshake. Not pie.”

  “Mint chocolate chip. Not pie. Got it.” He smiles. “Thanks, Sia.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I smile, even though it kind of scares me that all Noah has to do is give me an adorable speech and I turn into such a pushover. I’m basically the texture of melted butter.