Alienated

by Melissa Landers

  “Shut the front door! He must be really smart.”

  “Well, I may have misled you. I taught him to hold a writing utensil and scribble. But he is intelligent.”

  “Does he have fur? And how does that work with your controlled climate? Don’t your animals with thick coats get too hot?”

  “They adapted hundreds of years ago. Most animals on L’eihr have what you’d call peach fuzz instead of true fur. Vero’s skin is beige, but he can darken it to gray if he needs to camouflage.”

  “So let’s see if I’ve got this right,” she said. “Vero’s a cross between a lemur, a raccoon, and a chimp, but he’s hairless? I can’t picture it.”

  “I’ll draw him for you sometime, though I’m not a great artist.”

  She gave a theatrical gasp. “There’s something you’re not good at?”

  “Three things.”

  “You’re joking.” She pulled back his hood to gauge his expression. No humor in his eyes. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Every child on L’eihr is tested at age six, then assigned a career based on his or her strengths. I demonstrated superior language skills, so I was chosen to serve as a translator.”

  She nodded for him to continue.

  “But I had a passion for science, not communication, so I appealed to my Elders a few years later. They said my scores were far too inferior to qualify for a laboratory position.”

  “Sorry.” She gave his arm a little pat and quickly drew back. “What’s the other thing you struggle with?”

  Aelyx kicked a pile of leaves and his smile returned. “Obedience.”

  She laughed and pointed at him. “You’re making this up.”

  “I promise.” He held up one hand. “I rebelled by refusing to participate in my foreign language classes. That earned me five strokes with the iphet across my backside.”

  “Like a paddle?”

  “Imagine an electric paddle, more like a whip. And then no meals for the rest of the day.”

  “Hot damn.” L’eihrs didn’t mess around.

  “Hot damn is a perfect description for the iphet. I’ve experienced it two times, and that was twice too many. Anyway, Syrine—she’s the female you met at the gala—snuck food into my dormitory and gave me a lecture on duty and responsibility. After that, we became friends, and a few years later, roommates.”

  “Wait. Your roommate’s a girl?” Cara felt uncomfortable with that for some reason.

  “And Eron. He’s in China right now. After the three of us were selected for the exchange, we started sharing a room.”

  “Oh.” That made her feel better—less like Aelyx and Syrine were shacking up. “So, are the other two exchange students good with language like you?”

  “Eron’s a translator. Syrine has…other skills.” He pressed his lips together, pulled his hood back up, and quickened his pace. Just like that, the mood changed.

  “Like what?”

  “She’s an emotional healer.” Then he added in a reverent tone, “I swear she sees into my head, even when we’re not together. She’s one of my closest friends, similar to your Tori—” He paused on the trail, tripping over his own words, mouth agape for several seconds before he managed an apology. “Sorry. I keep forgetting.”

  A dull ache spread through Cara’s core, like he’d just smacked her in the stomach with a Wiffle ball bat. But when she considered her feelings, she realized hurt wasn’t the only emotion threatening to double her over. Syrine wasn’t just his roommate; she was his best friend, too? Just how close were they? Close like that?

  “It’s okay,” she mumbled.

  They continued in silence until they reached the street and witnessed the largest crowd of Patriot protesters to date. Radicals spilled out onto the vacant lot where Aelyx’s supporters used to sing and dance, back before fistfights and flying beer bottles had scared away all the hippies.

  “I’d half expected them to stay home,” Aelyx said.

  “Yeah, I’m not feeling very ignored.”

  At least the government had finally stepped up and sent some troops. About two dozen armed soldiers donned in green camo corralled the demonstrators. Too bad they couldn’t contain the cigarette butts, discarded leaflets, and cardboard coffee cups that blew around the parking lot like tumbleweeds.

  Cara couldn’t help scanning the lot for Tori’s Prius, but she quickly forced her gaze back to Aelyx. Clearing her throat, she wiped one dampened palm on her pants. Could she really hold it together? Eric and Tori hadn’t even crossed her path yet, and her eyes were already welling up. She faced the frigid breeze and blinked repeatedly until the tears dried.

  “You can do this,” Aelyx promised.

  “I know.” But despite that, her feet wouldn’t budge.

  He studied her for a long moment, then did something she couldn’t believe. He reached down and took her hand. His long fingers were stiff, but he laced them between hers and tightened his grip, fusing their palms together in a mesmerizing contrast of skin.

  Cara stared at their intertwined hands and went a little gooey inside.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I know you hate it.”

  “Quite the opposite.” He smiled down at her. “Consoling you brings me comfort. Listening to you cry while I’m trapped on the other side of the wall is what I can’t stand.”

  “You’re too good to me.”

  His smile fell. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  He towed her ahead by their linked fingers, and they faced the crowd as a united front—the two of them against the world. It sparked a flicker of hope inside her chest.

  Before they even made it across the street, someone on the fringes of the crowd blew an air horn in four quick blasts. Then, in eerie synchronization, the entire assembly turned to the left and faced the opposite direction. They must’ve rehearsed it all morning.

  Message received: she was invisible. But for the first time since bringing Aelyx to Midtown, Cara felt comfortable gazing into the crowd. She slowed her pace to study the backsides of her would-be foes.

  She recognized Mr. McFarland, one of her neighbors and the owner of the Midtown Grocery, and sweet Lord, there was Mrs. Fraker, her old Sunday School teacher. So much for peace, love, and understanding. A lot had changed since HALO’s early days, when squirrely radicals dominated the group. Men still outnumbered women, but Cara noticed several high ponytails, French twists, and a few full-length cashmere coats. A little red-haired toddler with wide, curious eyes peered at Cara from behind his mother’s hip. She smiled at the boy, but he thrust out his tongue and hid his face.

  Inside the school, most students still parted like the Red Sea, while others stopped and stared as she clung to Aelyx’s hand. She knew the kind of rumors this would fuel, but who cared? She didn’t have a friend in the world except for Aelyx, so his opinion was all that mattered. Strike that—judging by the L’annabe loitering at Cara’s locker, it seemed she had two friends.

  “Haleem!” The girl backed away from Aelyx to avoid killing him via hair dye.

  “Actually, that means good-bye,” Aelyx said. “Mahra is the word you want.”

  “Maaaa-hraaah.” The L’annabe closed her eyes, savoring the exotic greeting in her mouth like a truffle. Half an inch of dishwater-blond roots told Cara the girl had quit coloring her hair, but unfortunately, she hadn’t ditched the Quick Tan.

  “What’s your name?” Cara pried her fingers loose from Aelyx’s, then shook her hand to get the blood flowing before entering her combination. “And where’s the rest of you guys?”

  “Ashley.” An unnatural shade of orange darkened her cheeks as she glanced down, straightening the L’eihr Lover! button tacked to her sweater. “And it’s just me now.”

  “Oh. Right.” Apparently the other L’eihr Lovers couldn’t take the heat, so they’d vacated the kitchen. Cara couldn’t really blame them, but she admired Ashley’s tenacity. A girl with enough guts to flaunt her unpopular beliefs could make a valuable addition to
the debate team.

  “Hey,” Cara said. “You doing anything after school?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Want to come to debate practice with me? We only meet once a week now that I’ve got Aelyx to look after, so it’s not a huge time commitment.” She sized Ashley up—confident posture, articulate speech, and most importantly, she didn’t say like or um after every other word. “I think you’d be good at it.”

  “Really?” Ashley beamed bright enough to turn her skin from orange to yellow.

  “Really, really.”

  The warning bell chimed overhead, and Ashley managed a squeaky, “Okay,” before waving good-bye and rushing toward the freshman wing.

  “That was nice of you,” Aelyx said from behind after Ashley had left.

  Cara shrugged and popped open her locker. “I admire her guts. Not even my best friend wants to stand up for—” She cut off abruptly as a folded sheet of paper sailed out and drifted to her feet.

  She tried hiding it from Aelyx, but he nudged her aside and scooped it off the floor. When he unfolded the sheet, she rested her hand on his forearm and peered around his shoulder. A message penned in meticulously formed capital letters warned, THE COP CAN’T ALWAYS BE THERE TO WATCH YOU. BUT I CAN. —HUMANIST

  Humanist? The name sounded familiar. Wasn’t that the blog troll who’d ranted about weapons and called her a bitch a few weeks ago?

  Cara’s mind flashed to the figure in the woods. What were the odds that this note was from the same person? Slim-to-none. But something about the handwriting bothered her, the way each letter imprinted into the paper. The writer had pressed so hard, he’d nearly pushed the ink through to the other side.

  This was even weirder than her usual hate mail. “What cop?”

  “That one, I suppose.” Aelyx glanced over her head, and Cara whirled around to find the school resource officer ambling toward them. She recognized him as someone who’d graduated with her brother. He was fresh out of the police academy and so green he could pass for broccoli.

  “Hey, Cara.” Barry or Blaine, she couldn’t remember which, crossed his arms and let a smile slip before clearing his throat and resuming his mask of super seriousness. “You hear from Troy?”

  “No. He only e-mails when he wants something.” She reached behind her back, grabbing the note from Aelyx and balling it in her fist. The last thing she wanted was a police escort through the halls because of these letters. “But if I hear from him, I’ll tell him you said hi.” She slammed her locker shut and started for homeroom, but he stopped her.

  “Just so you know…” In true police fashion, he paused to adjust his utility belt, something they must’ve taught all cops in Doughnuts 101. “Someone called in a threat—nothing to worry about, but I’ll be walking you and Aelyx to your classes now.”

  While Cara shut her eyes and groaned inwardly, Aelyx snatched the crumpled paper from her hand.

  “Excellent.” Aelyx tossed the note to the officer before she had a chance to snatch it back. “Because Cah-ra’s been getting threatening notes.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, Officer…” She trailed off, hoping to catch his name.

  “Blake.” He smoothed the note and studied it, front and back. “Blake Borsch.” Holding the paper in midair, he asked, “Where’re the others?”

  “There was only one more, and it just said traitor bitch.”

  “Save ’em from now on. I need to see everything.” With one hand on his Maglite, Blake extended the other toward the now vacant hall, clearing them for takeoff. “After you.”

  Cara slouched while trudging to class. It appeared she had three “friends” now: a sexy alien, a crazed fan girl, and a high school cop barely old enough to shave. Oh, and she just caught a glimpse of her former best friend holding hands with her ex. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to brain-bleach them away. No such luck.

  “You really think wars wouldn’t break out if water became scarce?” Ashley asked Joss Fenske at practice later that afternoon. With a disbelieving shake of her head, she sat back and tapped an index finger against her desk. “Because countries have been battling over land and water rights for thousands of years.”

  Just as Cara had predicted, Ashley was a natural. A good thing, too, because Cara hadn’t contributed much to the team today. Not that she hadn’t tried, but the organized shun had popped her swagger bubble. She couldn’t convince a pig to roll in mud today. The team didn’t seem to mind—nobody had made eye contact with her that afternoon, not even Mr. Bastian, the faculty adviser. She’d hoped her teachers wouldn’t sink so low, but a few of them had abruptly “forgotten” to write her letters of recommendation for her college applications. Speciesist jerks.

  Since she was useless for debate, she might as well get her next blog post up. Cara flipped open her laptop and got to work.

  TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17

  A Call to Arms!

  In case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard, there’s a new bill called the L’eihr Expulsion Act circulating among our representatives. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together—which is apparently more than Senator Ibis possesses—recognizes this bill for what it is: flagrant xenophobia. He’s even stooped to accusing L’eihr exchange students of tainting local crops, which makes no sense. Why would L’eihrs blight a few random fields of soybeans, wheat, and grapes when they have the technology to eradicate all vegetation on Earth? Why not go balls to the wall and leave us at their mercy? Um, because WE’RE NOT ENEMIES, that’s why!

  Let’s stop the crazy and work together to kill this bill. Here’s how you can help…

  Cara paused with her fingertips resting lightly against the keys, unable to continue. She didn’t know what to say to rally the troops. Her readers already knew how to write their representatives—what she needed was a fresh idea.

  She brainstormed for a few minutes, but nothing came. With a frustrated sigh, she closed her laptop again. It seemed she couldn’t debate or blog when her give-a-crap was broken.

  “Hey, guys.” She stood and gathered her things. “I’m heading out early. Think I’m coming down with the flu.” The boo-hoo flu, that is. “Ashley, you’re doing great. See you next week?”

  “Okay.”

  When Ashley continued to gaze at her in obvious concern, Cara flapped a hand and said, “It’s probably one of those twenty-four-hour bugs. I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, I know.” She sniffed a small laugh. “Just be careful not to give it to Aelyx.”

  Awesome. Good to know someone cared.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aelyx assembled the microscope he’d borrowed from the school science lab. It was the most primitive piece of equipment he’d ever used, but the best he could manage considering he’d left his analytical tools on L’eihr. The rudimentary data from his water collection device indicated abnormally high pollutant levels, and curiosity had driven him to investigate.

  That and sheer boredom.

  He glanced at his bedroom wall. Cara was on the other side of that barrier, but she barely made a sound anymore. She didn’t cry, laugh, argue, or debate. He’d allowed her to “win” two chess games, but that didn’t help. Now she refused to play. Outside of school, he only saw her at meal times and when their paths intersected on the way to the bathroom. It was as if her glorious flame had been snuffed out, and he wished he knew how to ignite it again. He wanted his Elire back—his beautiful warrior.

  With a quiet sigh, he placed a glass slide beneath the scope and removed the lid from his sterile petri dish. After giving the water inside his collection device a thorough shake, he unscrewed the cap and poured its contents into the dish, then squeezed two drops onto the slide. What he saw through the eyepiece made him gasp in shock.

  “What the—?” Hundreds of green chunks permeated the water droplets, at first glance appearing plantlike. But he knew with complete certainty he’d gathered no such contaminants in his sample that day at the nature preserve. He isola
ted one furry bit and studied it under the highest magnification the tool would allow.

  Within minutes, he’d identified the matter as Sphagnum squarrosum, or as humans referred to it, moss. But how could that be? Even if spores had been present in the water, they couldn’t reproduce so quickly under sterile conditions, not to mention devoid of sunlight in an insulated metal tube. He must have made a mistake while collecting the sample—it was the only possibility.

  The stereo speakers mounted on Cara’s side of the wall broke the silence, vibrating the plaster in time with softly strumming guitar chords. If he listened carefully, he could just make out a man’s sullen voice asking, Please, please, please let me get what I want. Gods, it was the most depressing song he’d ever heard. Why did humans feed their despondency with music like this?

  Enough! If Cara wouldn’t pull herself out of whatever hole she’d fallen into, then he would find a way to do it. And if winning at chess wouldn’t restore her good cheer, he’d have to find another way to release enough endorphins to improve her mood.

  He left his room and marched into the kitchen, where he prepared the richest, most indulgent, and disgusting dish imaginable—a bowl of fudge ripple ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, semi-sweet chocolate morsels, chocolate sprinkles, and, for good measure, a chocolate brownie from the pantry. He even garnished it with a handful of M&M’s.

  This had to help. After tucking a spoon inside the bowl, he knocked on Cara’s door and asked, “Can I come in?”

  “S’open,” she called, voice muffled as if she’d pulled the comforter over her head.

  He was partially right—a pillow, not a blanket, covered Cara’s face when he sat beside her on the bed. With his free hand, he yanked the pillow free, revealing blotchy, reddened cheeks and puffy eyes so bloodshot they nearly matched the rest of her. Tugging on her shoulder, he encouraged her to sit up while waving the bowl beneath her nose. “Look what I made for you. A bowl of diabetes.”