Don't miss any books in this fascinating new series: 

#1 THE OUTSIDER 

#2 THE WILD ONE 

#3 THE SEEKER 

#4 THE WATCHER 

#5 THE INTRUDER 

#6 THE STOWAWAY 

#7 THE VANISHED 

#8 THE REBEL 

#9 THE DARK ONE 

#1O THE SALVATION 

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THE OUTSIDER 

by MELINDA METZ 

POCKET PULSE 

New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore 

The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased
this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the
publisher as "unsold and destroyed." Neither the author nor the publisher
has received payment for the sale of this "stripped book." 

This book is a work of fiction. Although the physical setting of the book
is Roswell, New Mexico, the high school and its students, names,
characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

POCKET PULSE published by 

Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020 

Copyright (c) 1998 by POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 

First published in 1998 by Archway Paperbacks 

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or
portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Daniel
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Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020. 

ISBN: 0-671-77466-2 

First Pocket Pulse printing November 1999 

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 

POCKET PULSE and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc. 

Cover art TM and c by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights
Reserved. 

Printed in the U. S. A. 

*** 1 *** 

"One Sigourney Weaver and one Will Smith." Liz Ortecho slid two thick
burgers onto the table -- one with avocado and sprouts, one with jalapeno
peppers and cheese. 

Then she waited. The customers in the booth were obviously tourists. And
every tourist who came to the Crashdown Cafe had at least one question
about... the Roswell Incident. 

"So is your family from around here?" the guy in the Lost in Space T-shirt
asked. The blond woman sitting across from him flipped open a battered
notebook and stared at Liz. 

"Yeah," Liz said. "My great-great-great-grandfather inherited a ranch
outside town. My family's been in Roswell ever since." 

The woman uncapped her pen. The man cleared his throat. Here it comes, Liz
thought. 

"So did any of your relatives ever tell you any stories about, you know,
the UFO crash?" the guy asked. 

These two were a total trip. I bet they have every episode of The X-Files
on tape, Liz thought. 

"Well..." Liz hesitated. "I guess it would be okay to show you." She
pulled a worn black-and-white photo out of her pocket and gently placed it
in front of them. "A friend of my grandmother's took this picture at the
crash site -- before the government cleaned it up." 

The two tourists leaned over the blurry photo and studied it carefully. 

"Whoa," the woman mumbled. "Whoa." 

"This looks exactly like the alien from the autopsy video," the guy
exclaimed. "Same oversized head and small, hairless body. I've got to get
it on my Roswell Incident web site." He reached for the photo. 

"You'd be dead by the end of the week." Liz snatched the photo away. "Just
because it's been more than fifty years since the crash doesn't mean the
air force wants the truth exposed. They still want everyone to believe
that weather balloon story they used as a cover-up," she explained. 

Liz glanced around the cafe nervously. She wanted to make sure her father
wasn't in earshot. If Papa heard her telling this story, he'd rip off her
head and feed it to her for breakfast. 

"I shouldn't have shown this to you. Just forget about it, okay? You never
saw it." Liz rushed back behind the counter. 

Maria DeLuca shook her head, sending her blond curls flying around her
face. "You are so bad." 

"Hey, they'll have a great story to tell when they get home. And I'll have
a great tip," Liz answered. 

Maria sighed. "You and your great tips. I've never known such a
money-hungry waitress." 

Liz shrugged. "You know how I feel. I need as much money as I can get
because -- " 

"One day after grad it's adios and hasta la vista, baby," Maria
interrupted. "I know, I know. You're not going to spend your life in a
town that has two movie theaters, one bowling alley, one lame-o comedy
club, one even more lame-o dance club, and thirteen alien-theme tourist
traps." 

Liz had to smile. Her best friend did an almost perfect impression of her.
"I guess I say that a lot, huh?" 

Maria grabbed a dish towel and started wiping down the counter. "Only ten
times a day since fifth grade," she joked. 

"If I didn't have five thousand relatives watching me all the time," Liz
said, "maybe I could have some fun once in a while." 

She sighed, imagining a life where she didn't have to worry about doing
something -- anything -- that would make her large, loving extended family
worry about her future. She was the first daughter in her family headed
for college, and her family wanted to make sure that she stayed on track.
And not turn out like her sister, Rosa. 

Liz pulled a handful of change out of her pocket and dumped it on the
counter. 

"Wow," Maria said. "Great tips. Maybe I should get my own picture of a
baby doll someone left put in the sun too long." Maria scrunched up her
nose. "Though I don't know if I could do that whole 'you'd be dead by the
end of the week' thing without cracking up." 

"Just practice in front of the mirror. That's what I did," Liz told her. 

"It would take a lot of practice," Maria complained. "Everyone always
knows when I'm lying. My ten-year-old brother is a better liar than me.
The guys my mom goes out with never believe me when I say how nice it is
to meet them." 

Liz snorted. "Big surprise." She popped open the cash register and traded
her change for bills. Thirty-three more dollars for the Hasta la Vista
Fund. Thirty-three seventy-three, actually. 

The opening notes of the Close Encounters theme played as the cafe door
swung open. Max Evans, tall and blond, with killer baby blues, and Michael
Guerin, dark and intense, ambled over to the corner booth in the back.
Both were students at Liz and Maria's high school. 

"Of course they sit in your section," Maria grumbled. 

Liz and Maria each covered six of the cafe's flying-saucer-shaped booths.
They divided the dining room in half from front to back so they each got a
couple of booths by the windows. Those were the most popular. 

"You get the tourists and the cute guys, and I get those two," Maria
continued. She jerked her chin toward the booth nearest the door. "They're
having some big fight. They just scowl at me every time I get near them." 

Liz glanced at the two men in the booth. One was big and beefy. The other
was smaller but muscular. They were leaning across the table toward each
other, talking intently. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but they
both looked furious. 

"I think you deserve a good table after dealing with those guys. You can
take Max and Michael," Liz volunteered. , 

Maria narrowed her blue eyes. "Okay, what's going on?" 

Liz wrapped her arm around Maria's shoulders. "You're my best friend.
Can't I just do something nice for you out of the goodness of my heart?" 

"Nope." Maria shrugged Liz's arm away. "I repeat -- what's going on?" 

"Nothing," Liz insisted. "I just feel like taking a little vacation from
all the testosterone junkies." 

Maria raised one eyebrow. "Translation, please." 

"Guys," Liz explained. "I'm so tired of their... guyness." 

"All guys aren't like Kyle Valenti, you know," Maria told her. "Take Alex.
He's totally cool." 

Alex Manes was totally cool. Liz could hardly believe she and Maria had
only been friends with him for a year. She felt as if she'd known him
forever. 

"You're right. Alex is the best. But he doesn't count." 

Maria frowned. "Why not?" 

"'Cause he's Alex," Liz said with a shrug. "He's not a guy guy. Not like
Kyle. You should have seen Kyle after school today. He will not accept the
fact that I won't go out with him again. He actually got down on his knees
and followed me down the hall with his tongue hanging out, begging. All
his friends were watching, laughing like the idiots they are." 

It made Liz wish she knew karate. She could have really given his friends
something to laugh about. 

"How romantic. And that classy move didn't convince you to go out with him
again?" Maria's voice rose in fake shock. 

"Uh -- that would be no. And I'm not going out with anyone else for a
while, either," Liz declared. "I'm going to stay home, rent chick flicks,
take bubble baths, and wear comfy old sweatpants." 

Liz was looking forward to it. To be fair, most guys she'd been out with
-- not that there had been that many -- weren't losers like Kyle Valenti.
Kyle actually had thought Liz would enjoy sitting next to him on the couch
watching him play Nintendo. He hadn't even offered her a turn! 

But even with the other guys, there had just been that "sameness" about
them. 

"My love life is pathetic," Liz mumbled. "I just need some time to myself,
for myself." 

"Well, I can mix you up some great herbal bath oils," Maria offered. "But
if you stop dating, there are going to be some very unhappy boys at
Ulysses F. Olsen High." 

"Like who?" Liz demanded. 

Maria glanced over at the booth where Max and Michael were sitting. "Max
Evans," she said. 

"Max?" Liz repeated. "Max is my buddy. He's not interested in me like
that." 

"Oh, please," Maria shot back. "How could he not be interested? You look
like some kind of Spanish princess or something with your long black hair
and your amazing cheekbones. And let's not talk about your skin. Do you
even know the word zit? Plus you're smart and -- " 

Liz held up both hands. "Stop!" 

Maria was the most loyal person Liz knew. If you were her friend, she
stuck by you no matter what. And Liz and Maria had been friends since the
second grade, when they bonded over a hurt baby bird. 

"Okay, I'll stop," Maria answered. "But believe me, Max Evans is more than
interested. He probably has the words Property of Liz Ortecho tattooed on
his chest. Max -- " 

"Hi, Michael!" Liz said loudly as Michael walked up to the counter. She
hoped he hadn't heard any of their conversation. 

"Hey." Michael raked his fingers through his jet black hair, making the
top even more spiky. "I was wondering if you had a job application I could
fill out." 

It was hard for Liz to picture Michael working in the cafe, busing tables
and making change and stuff. It seemed too normal, too ordinary for
Michael. He should have a job as a Navy SEAL or something like that.
Michael was always joking around, but there was a definite edge to him. 

Liz reached under the counter and pulled out a pad of forms. "We don't
have any openings right now. But I'll talk to my father, and as soon as
something comes up I'll have him call you." 

"Oh, I think you're going to be having some openings real fast," Michael
answered in a serious tone. "Unless your dad likes waitresses who stand
around gossiping instead of waiting on tables." He winked. 

Maria threw her dish towel at him. Michael cracked up. 

"I'll go," Maria said. She picked up two menus and followed Michael over
to his booth. 

Liz shot a quick glance over at Max -- and found herself staring directly
into his bright blue eyes. They were such an unusual shade, strange and
beautiful. Not the blue of the sky or of the ocean. 

Max held Liz's gaze for a second, then he looked away. 

Maria wasn't right about Max -- was she? Liz had known Max since third
grade. He had been her lab partner since they were sophomores. But they
never hung out outside of class. And Liz hadn't picked up on any vibe
signaling that Max wanted to be more than friends. 

Liz grabbed the nearest napkin holder and restocked it. What would it be
like to go out with Max? He wasn't really her type. He was quiet. And kind
of a loner. 

He saw the world in a different way from most people. He said things that
made Liz stop and think. Like when those scientists in Scotland cloned
that sheep. A lot of people talked about who they would clone if they
could -- scientists or athletes or movie stars. But Max was more
interested in whether or not the soul could be cloned -- and if it
couldn't, what that meant. Spending time with Max definitely wasn't
boring. 

Liz wiped a drop of milk off the counter. She moved the ketchup bottle up
a fraction of an inch so it was exactly even with the mustard bottle. Then
she stole another peek at Max. 

No one could say the boy was homely, that was for sure. If there were a
beefcake calendar of Ulysses F. Olsen High hotties, Max would be in it.
Tall, blond, buff, with those blue, blue eyes... 

Liz felt her face get hot. It was weird thinking of Max that way. Most of
the time she forgot he was certifiably gorgeous. Max was just Max. She
couldn't -- 

"I don't want the money tomorrow. I want it now!" 

The angry voice interrupted Liz's thoughts. She jerked her head up and saw
everyone in the cafe staring at the men in the booth by the door. The
beefy man clenched and unclenched his fists as he glared at the muscular
man. 

I'd better go get Papa out of the office, she thought. Their argument
looks like it's about to get ugly. 

Liz turned toward the door marked Employees Only. 

"He's got a gun!" Maria screeched. 

Liz spun back toward the dining room. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
No. Oh no. That's all she could think. Over and over. 

The muscular man held a gun to the beefy man's head. "You won't need any
money if you're dead," he said. His voice was calm. Calm and cold. 

Click. 

The muscular man cocked the gun. 

Liz wanted to run, she wanted to scream for help, but she was paralyzed.
Her mouth refused to open. Her legs refused to move. 

The beefy man gave a howl of fury. He launched himself across the table at
the muscular man. 

An eardrum-shattering explosion rocked the room. 

Liz flew off her feet. She hit the wall behind her, then slumped to the
ground. 

She felt something warm and wet gushing across her stomach, soaking into
her uniform. 

"There's so much blood," Liz heard Maria cry. 

But she sounded so far away. 

So far... 

*** 

Max sprang up from his seat in the booth. Instantly Michael grabbed him by
the arm and jerked him back into his seat. 

"Let go of me," Max cried. "Liz could be dying. What are you doing?" 

"No, what are you doing?" Michael tightened his grip on Max's arm. "Are
you planning to heal her in the middle of a. restaurant? Why not just send
the government an invitation -- hi, I'm here, why don't you come on over
and get me?" 

Michael was right. Healing Liz would attract attention -- a lot of
attention. But if he let Liz die when he knew he could save her... 

That was just not an option. 

"I'm willing to risk it," he told Michael. 

"You're willing to risk it. But what about me? What about Isabel?" Michael
demanded. 

Max stared down at the table. He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He
would risk his own life for Liz. But how could he risk the lives of his
sister and his best friend? 

"If the government has proof that one of us exists, they'll know there are
more. They won't stop searching until they find us -- all of us," Michael
continued. 

"I can't stop the bleeding!" Maria screamed from behind the counter. 

Max's heart slammed against his ribs. Liz was dying! He bolted to his
feet. "I'll think of something. I promise," he said in a rush. 

Before Michael could stop him, Max raced to the counter and vaulted over
it. Pain filled his heart as he stared down at Liz. He swallowed hard. 

Maria held a thick towel over Liz's stomach. But nothing could stop the
blood pouring from the gunshot wound. 

Max heard Liz's father on the kitchen phone, giving the cafe's address to
the ambulance. They're going to be too late, Max thought. He knew it. He
could see it. 

The halo of color surrounding Liz was usually a warm, rich amber that made
Max wish he could wrap himself up in it. But now her aura had turned a
dull, muddy brown. And it was growing darker by the second. 

Darker and darker as her life force drained out of her. 

Every person's aura was different, as unique as a fingerprint. But the
only time anyone's aura turned black was at the moment of death. 

Max pulled Maria out of the way, trying to ignore the tremors of fear
racing through her body. He wanted to comfort her, but he didn't have one
second to spare. 

He knelt beside Liz and placed his hands over her wound. In an instant his
fingers were slick with blood. 

I love her. The thought exploded in his mind. It was true. He'd been
keeping it a secret, even from himself. Loving a human wasn't smart. It
wasn't safe. But he couldn't help it. He loved Liz, and he would not let
her die. 

"Let me through!" he heard Liz's father yell from behind him. "Let me see
her!" 

Max didn't move. He didn't answer. He had to focus on Liz now. Liz was the
only thing that mattered. 

He closed his eyes and began drawing deep, even breaths. Trying to make
the connection. 

Think about Liz, he ordered himself. Anything about her. 

The way her hair always smelled of jasmine. The way a dimple appeared in
her left cheek when she smiled. The way she loved to tell stupid alien
jokes. The way she listened with total concentration when he talked to
her. 

Ahhh. He almost had it. He almost had the connection. He just needed to
get a little closer.... 

"The ambulance is almost here," Michael muttered behind him. 

Max took another breath. 

Images flashed into his mind, coming so fast, Max could hardly register
one before the next appeared. 

A stuffed dog with a chewed-off ear. A Mr. Wizard junior chemistry set. A
blond little girl holding a baby bird. An onrushing car. Liz at about age
five in a pink dress covered with cupcakes. A valentine. The high dive of
a large swimming pool. Max's own face. 

And he was in. Connected. 

He could feel the blood gushing out of Liz's body as if it were his own.
Feel her breath in his own lungs. Hear the sound of her heartbeat in his
own ears. 

First the bullet, Max told himself. He focused his attention on Liz's
body. On their body. 

Yes. There it was. He could sense the exact position of the bullet. Of the
lead. Of the molecules of lead. 

Then he nudged the molecules. That's the only way he could describe it. He
nudged them, and they broke apart. The bullet dissolving into microscopic
particles. Harmless now as they were swept away in Liz's bloodstream. 

"The ambulance is pulling up out front," Max heard Michael say. 

But he sounded far away. So far... 

Max focused on Liz's somatic cells. The cells of her body. Of her stomach.
Of her muscles and tendons. Of her skin. 

And instead of nudging he squeezed. Squeezed with his mind. Urging the
cells closer together. Healing. 

Max felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "You've got to disconnect.
Now, Max," Michael ordered. "The ambulance crew is coming through the
door." 

And he was out. Separate again. Alone again. A wave of coldness washed
through him, and he shivered. 

Max slowly raised his hands and stared down at Liz's stomach. Under the
blood her skin was whole and perfect. He released a shaky sigh of relief. 

Liz opened her eyes and stared at him. "I... you..." 

"I'll explain everything later," Max whispered. "But now I need you to
help me." 

He grabbed a bottle of ketchup off the counter and smashed it against the
floor. He dumped the contents over the blood on Liz's uniform. 

"You broke the bottle when you fell," Max told her. "Okay, Liz? You broke
the bottle when you fell, that's all." 

A man and woman dressed in white jumpsuits hurried behind the counter.
"Everyone move aside and give us some room," the woman paramedic
instructed. 

Max backed away. Did Liz even understand what he'd asked her to do? 

Liz struggled to sit up. "I'm okay," she said. Her voice sounded hoarse.
"When I heard the gunshot, I jumped. Then I fell. I... I broke this
ketchup bottle and spilled ketchup all over myself." 

She held up the broken bottle so everyone could see it. 

Then Liz looked straight at Max, her dark brown eyes melting with emotion.
He felt his breath catch in his chest. 

"I'm okay," she repeated. 

*** 2 *** 

Liz couldn't stop staring at Max. He gave her a tiny smile, a private
smile meant only for her. What did you do to me? she thought. How... 

Her brain felt like it was humming, vibrating at a really low frequency.
It was hard to think. 

The paramedic knelt down in front of Liz, blocking her view of Max. No!
Liz thought, struggling to stand up. She needed to keep Max in sight right
now. It made her feel... safer. 

Lying on the floor, she'd had the feeling of rushing away, being forced
away from the cafe, from her father and Maria -- from everything and
everyone familiar. And somehow Max had brought her back. 

"Don't try to move yet." The paramedic grasped Liz firmly by the
shoulders. 

Liz tried to focus on the story she was supposed to tell. She brushed her
fingers across the front of her uniform, then held her hand up so the
woman could see it. "It's ketchup, just like I told you. I know it looks
like blood, like a lot of blood...." 

And there is blood under the ketchup, a lot of blood, she thought. I was
bleeding to death. I was dying. A shiver rippled through Liz. She wrapped
her arms around herself, but it didn't help. She still felt cold. 

"I know it's ketchup -- I can smell it. I'm getting the urge for a big
plate of fries," the woman joked. She pulled out a tiny flashlight and
shone it into Liz's eyes. Then she took Liz's wrist in her hand and
checked her pulse. 

"Is she okay?" Mr. Ortecho asked. He was blinking superfast, the way he
always did when he was about to lose it. 

Liz felt a rush of protectiveness for her father. He had been devastated
when Rosa overdosed. For days after the funeral he had lain on the sofa
covered by a red afghan -- even though it was the middle of summer. And no
matter how many times Liz had gone into the room, she'd always found him
in exactly the same position. 

He must be terrified, she thought. I'm the only child he has left. She
wished this had happened on his day off. 

"I'm fine, Papi," she answered. She heard a tiny tremor in her voice, but
she thought she'd done a good job of sounding normal. Except for the fact
that she had called her father Papi. She hadn't used that name since she
was a little girl. 

"I didn't ask you," Papa snapped. "Are you a professional? No. You don't
know if you're fine or not." 

"I'm the professional, and I say she's fine, too," the woman answered. "I
thought she might be in shock. I'd be in shock if someone shot at me. But
she's just fine." The woman glanced over her shoulder at her partner.
"Guess we should head out." 

"Thanks." Liz pushed herself to her feet. Her father wrapped her in a hug
so tight, her ribs hurt. "Let's not tell Mama what happened, okay?" she
whispered. 

"Are you kidding? There's no way your mother's radar would miss this. The
second one of us walked in the house, she'd know something was wrong." He
gave a choked laugh as he released her. 

Liz scanned the cafe, searching for Max. She had to talk to him. She had
to find out what he did to her. But he was gone. So was Michael. 

Max had sounded so intense when he asked her to lie for him, like it was
something really critical. If anyone took a close look at the floor, they
would know her ketchup story couldn't be true. The spatters of blood on
the tile floor looked bright red and shiny slick -- not tomato red and
clumpy. 

"I -- I'd better mop up the ketchup. Someone is going to slip." Liz rushed
over to the corner and rolled the big yellow bucket over to the red
stains. She drenched the floor with dirty gray mop water. 

"I'll do that," her father said. He pulled the mop out of her hands. 

"Come on. Let's go to the ladies' room and get you cleaned up," Maria
said, slipping her arm through Liz's. 

"Good idea." Liz didn't know how much longer she could stand here acting
calm and talking about ketchup. 

She turned toward her friend. Maria's face was pale. Her peachy pink blush
looked way too dark now. It stood out on her cheeks in ugly splotches. 

Before Liz could take a step, the front door of the cafe swung open and
Sheriff Valenti strode in. The heels of his boots echoed on the tile floor
as he made his way up to the counter. 

Everyone at Olsen High knew Kyle's father. He did a locker search
practically every week. He stopped anyone under eighteen who was driving
even one mile over the speed limit. He showed up at practically every
party, checking to see if there was any underage drinking going on. 

"I got a report that there were shots fired at this address," he told Mr.
Ortecho. "Can you tell me what happened?" 

He's going to ask a billion questions, Liz thought. What if he doesn't
believe the ketchup story? She felt her heartbeat speed up. 

"I was in my office. I heard two men yelling, then a shot," Mr. Ortecho
answered in a shaky voice. "I ran out and saw my daughter... I saw my
daughter lying on the ground, bleeding." 

"It was ketchup," Liz said quickly. "The gunshot scared me. I jumped back,
then I fell. I broke this ketchup bottle, and it spilled all over me." 

Valenti turned toward her. "Is that right?" he asked. He took off his hat,
and Liz could see the red band the brim had made across his forehead. 

"Uh-huh," Liz answered. 

Why did she feel so intimidated? He'd asked the question in a calm voice
-- he didn't yell or anything. And it wasn't like he was some big,
powerful-looking man. He was about average height, not much taller than
Liz. 

But there was something about him. If Liz had to pick one word to describe
Sheriff Valenti, it would be deliberate. She got the feeling that his
every word, his every gesture was calculated. And if he was so careful
about what he did and said, he must scrutinize every detail about other
people. 

Did he notice how wet the floor is? she thought suddenly. Does he wonder
why we mopped? It was kind of a bizarro thing to do three seconds after
someone tried to shoot at her. 

Valenti didn't ask another question. He just stood there. 

Did he believe her story? Liz wished she could see the sheriff's eyes. But
he hadn't removed his mirrored sunglasses. All she could see in them were
reflections of her own face. 

"Two guys in that booth over there were having a fight," Maria put in.
"One was sort of short but not scrawny, more muscular, and the other one
was a big beefy guy." 

"That's right!" Liz agreed. "They were fighting about money, I think.
Yeah, about money." 

You're babbling, Liz told herself. Just slow down. The more you say, the
easier it will be for Valenti to catch you in a lie. 

Valenti raised one eyebrow. "And then what happened?" 

"And then one of the guys -- the short one--pulled out a gun. The other
guy tried to take it away from him, and the gun went off," Liz answered. 

"I'll need to get a description of both of them." Valenti pulled a little
notebook out of his pocket. 

Liz forced herself to laugh. "Definitely," she said. "The guy with the gun
had shaggy brown hair. He was about five-nine, maybe a hundred and eighty
pounds." 

"Mustache, tattoos, anything like that?" Valenti asked. 

"I don't think so." Liz glanced at Maria for help. Dealing with the
sheriff was making her nervous. 

"I don't remember anything, either," Maria added. 

"What about the other guy?" Valenti tapped his pencil against the
notebook. 

"Taller," Maria answered. "Maybe six-two. And bigger, with a beer belly." 

Valenti jotted down notes as Maria continued her description. In a few
more minutes he'd be out of there. And Liz could find Max. 

"I guess that's it," Valenti said. "I just have one more question --
where's the bullet hole?" 

The bullet hole? Oh, my God, Liz hadn't thought of that. "Uh, it must be
in the wall." She turned around and pretended to search for it. 

Valenti leaned across the counter. "Don't see anything," he said. 

Liz could feel his breath against her ear. He was giving her the creeps.
Valenti has no way of knowing you're lying, she reminded herself. She
turned back to face him and shrugged. "Maybe I was so freaked out when I
saw the gun, I just imagined it went off." 

"Well, the mind can play tricks on you -- especially when you're under
stress," Valenti answered. 

Yes, he's buying it, Liz thought. 

"But your father heard the gunshot, too," Valenti commented. "And so did
the, woman who called in to report the shot." 

I didn't think of that, either. I'm totally losing it, Liz realized. I
have to just shut up. "I don't know what to tell you," she said. "Do you
mind if I go clean up? This ketchup is really sticky." 

"Go ahead," Valenti answered. "I know where to find you if I have any more
questions." 

"Come on, Maria." Liz grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to the
ladies' room. She led the way inside and shut the door behind them. 

Liz scooped her hair up and gathered it into a big Pebbles Flintstone
ponytail on the top of her head. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a
scrunchie, and used it to anchor the ponytail in place. Somehow she could
always think better when all her hair was out of her face. Stupid, but
true. 

Maria rolled out a long sheet of brown paper towel and held it under the
cold water. Then she wrung it out and handed it to Liz. "So, do you want
to tell me why you lied to Valenti and everyone else?" she asked. 

Liz froze with the paper towel halfway to her stomach. She could feel
water dripping onto her shoes. "I wasn't lying," she answered, but her
voice sounded high and fake. 

Maria looked at her for a long moment. "Yeah, right." She pulled a dish
towel out of the side pocket of her uniform. "The red stuff on this isn't
ketchup. It's blood. Your blood, Liz. I was holding the cloth over your
stomach, and I felt the blood soaking into it." 

Her voice cracked. Tears glistened in her eyes. "I pressed down as hard as
I could, but it wouldn't stop. You were dying, Liz. I was watching you
die." 

Liz grabbed the edge of the sink with both hands. She suddenly needed help
standing up. When Max asked her to lie for him, Liz had just turned off
her emotions and done what he wanted. It was like she had formed a big
glass bubble around herself, keeping all the fear out so she could deal
with her father, the paramedics, and Sheriff Valenti. 

But Maria's words blasted a hole in the bubble. I almost died, Liz
thought. The words repeated themselves in her head again and again. She
sank down to the floor and leaned against the wall. 

Maria sat down next to her. She wrapped her arm around Liz's shoulders.
"It just hit you, didn't it?" 

"Yeah," Liz admitted. Her throat stung, and her eyes filled with tears. 

"So tell me." 

Liz pulled in a long, hitching breath. "Max healed me. It's impossible,
but he did. I heard you screaming. You sounded really far away. Then I
guess I blacked out or something." 

It felt good to say it out loud. It made her feel less crazy. "The next
thing I remember is feeling hands pressed against my stomach. Warm hands,"
Liz continued. "That's all I felt -- no pain or anything. I looked up, and
I saw Max." 

"Wow. I just... wow. He saved your life." 

"Yeah, he did," Liz answered. But she didn't quite believe it. It was like
a dream or something, seeming less real with every passing second. How
could Max have healed a gunshot wound? "He told me to lie. He said he'd
explain everything -- then he disappeared." 

The smell of ketchup mixed with drying blood wafted up from Liz's uniform.
She felt a wave of nausea. She stood up and soaked another paper towel,
scrubbing frantically at her uniform until the towel started to fall
apart. 

Maria joined Liz in front of the mirror. She wiped her eyes and gave a
shaky laugh. "This is supposed to be waterproof mascara." 

"I don't think they've invented tear-proof stuff yet." Liz tore off a
strip of paper towel and handed it to Maria. 

Maria's eyes widened. She leaned toward Liz. "Liz, you shouldn't even
bother trying to get the ketchup out," she said, pointing to the fabric.
"You'll have to burn that uniform or something. Look." 

Liz looked down and saw a small round hole in the cloth. She felt her
stomach turn over. That's where the bullet had gone in. That's the bullet
hole Valenti had been hoping to find -- and only some blobs of ketchup
kept him from spotting it. 

"You're right," Liz said slowly. "I have to burn this. And that cloth,
too." She took the blood-soaked dish towel out of Maria's hand. 

Maria kept staring at the bullet hole. 

"I can't believe there was really a bullet inside my body." Liz wrapped
her hands protectively across her stomach. 

"Move your hands a second," Maria said. "There's something weird. It's
like your skin is shining." 

Liz lowered her hands. The patch of skin underneath the little hole did
look kind of strange -- almost silvery. What was going on? 

She slowly unzipped the front of her uniform. When she looked down at her
stomach, she began to feel light-headed. 

This wasn't happening. None of this could be happening. 

But there, on her stomach, were two iridescent handprints. Melded with her
flesh. Max's handprints. 

*** 

Isabel Evans pulled out her top dresser drawer and tossed the contents
into the center of her bed. Okay: lips, eyes, skin, nails, scent, she
thought. She snatched up every lipstick, lip gloss, lip balm, and lip
pencil she saw and piled them in the upper-right-hand corner of her
mattress. 

Then she picked out all the eye shadows (cream and powder), all the
eyeliners (liquid and pencil), all the mascaras, and all the eyebrow
pencils. She heaped them in the upper-left corner of the bed, then added
two eyelash curlers and a bottle of Visine. 

Max always teased her when she did this. He said Isabel was like a little
kid dividing her Halloween candy into categories -- plain chocolate,
chocolate with nuts, hard candy and licorice. But organizing her makeup
and stuff calmed Isabel down whenever she was upset. And she was upset
now. No, more than upset. Totally panicked and heading toward hysterical. 

If her brother didn't get home soon, he'd never get the chance to tease
her ever again -- because Isabel would kill him. And Michael, too. 

One of them had used a lot of power -- healing, dream walking, something.
She could feel the power crackling in the air -- all the tiny hairs on her
arms and the back of her neck were standing up. And the smell of ozone
drifted in through her open window -- the same way it did after a
thunderstorm. 

That meant something was very wrong, because Max and Michael never used
their power just for kicks. And whenever Isabel did -- which was a lot
because using her powers was fun -- they both always chewed her out. 

Something big must have happened. Something that made her brother and her
friend risk breaking their own rules. But that wasn't the scariest part.
The scariest pan was that she had felt a burst of terror from both of
them. Not fear. Terror. 

Isabel couldn't read Max, or Michael's thoughts. But she could feel their
feelings, always. Most of the time she tuned them out. Who wanted to feel
Michael's annoyance over some argument with his foster parents or Max's
sappy pleasure when Liz Ortecho smiled at him? 

But there was no way to block the terror coming from both of them right
now. It would be like trying to ignore a volcano erupting in the middle of
town, spewing lava everywhere. 

Isabel scooped up blushes, and moisturizers, and concealers, and
foundations (liquid and powder). She shoved them over to the
lower-right-hand corner of the bed. She started to add an
apricot-and-oatmeal facial scrub, then hesitated. Should she do cleansing
stuff separate this time? 

She couldn't think straight. Where were Max and Michael? They had to know
she would be going crazy. 

Isabel threw the facial scrub in the trash. She hated the way it felt on
her skin, all gritty and itchy. She shouldn't have bought it in the first
place. 

She heard a car pull up in the driveway. Finally! Isabel bolted out of her
room, down the hall, and out the front door. Max and Michael were striding
up the front walk toward her. Max avoided looking her in the eye, and
Michael's face was set and grim. 

This is bad, Isabel thought. This is very bad. "Where have you guys been?
What happened?" she demanded. Her voice sounded high and shrill. 

"Inside," Max answered as he brushed past Isabel. 

"Inside," Isabel muttered. She and Michael followed Max into the house.
Isabel slammed the door shut behind them. "Okay, we're inside. What is
going on?" 

"Are Mom and Dad home?" Max asked, ignoring her question. 

"No, this is their Clovis day" Isabel answered impatiently. Mr. and Mrs.
Evans had decided to expand their small law practice once Max and Isabel
started junior high. Now they kept offices in Roswell and over in Clovis,
about an hour's drive to the northeast. 

Max nodded, then headed into the living room, with Michael right behind
him. "Don't you walk away from me," Isabel cried. "I want to know what you
did. And don't tell me nothing -- I felt the power jolt. It practically
knocked me off my feet." 

Her brother didn't answer. Max flopped down in the recliner. He rested his
head on the Indian blanket tossed over the back, his face gray and pasty
looking next to the vivid reds, golds, and greens. 

He was freaking Isabel out. Max loved to take charge. He loved telling her
and Michael what to do. And now he wouldn't open his mouth. 

Isabel turned to Michael. "You tell me. Right now." 

"The saint used his powers to heal a gunshot wound -- and he did it in
front of witnesses," Michael spat out. He sat down on the nubby brown
sofa, then stood right back up. He was obviously too wound up to stay in
one place. 

"A gunshot wound? Are you crazy?" Isabel screamed at Max. Then she glared
at Michael. "He's your best friend -- why didn't you stop him?" 

"I tried," Michael shot back. The expression in his gray eyes warned
Isabel to back off. 

"Did the police show up?" Isabel asked, her voice rising higher and
higher. 

"Valenti was pulling into the parking lot as we were pulling out," Michael
answered. 

Isabel's stomach clenched. Sheriff Valenti scared her. She did everything
she could to avoid him. If he crashed a party, Isabel made sure she was
out the back door. If he showed up at school, Isabel made sure she was
quietly studying in a corner of the library. And now Max had practically
handed the guy an invitation to come after them. 

"Did the witnesses get a good look at you? Do you think they'll be able to
give Valenti a decent description?" Isabel asked. 

"They'll probably be able to give him names and addresses," Michael
muttered. 

Isabel gave Max The Look, the "tell all -- or else" look. 

"Liz Ortecho is the one who got shot. She knows I did something to heal
her. I think her friend Maria DeLuca knows, too," Max admitted. "She must
know. She was the one trying to stop the bleeding." 

"That means Valenti is going to be at our door in, like, two seconds,"
Isabel cried. "He's going to find out the truth about you!" 

"Izzy -- ," Max began. 

"And it's not going to take a genius to figure out that if you're not from
around here, your sister isn't, either," Isabel went on. "How could you do
that to me, Max? Valenti will know the truth about both of us. He'll turn
us over to some government agency, and -- " 

"I think we should get out of here," Michael interrupted. "I think we
should get in the Jeep and start driving, and I don't think we should stop
until we're out of the state." 

"Stop. Just stop it, okay?" Max ordered. He sat up a little straighter and
shoved his blond hair off his forehead." Liz lied to the paramedics for
me. I told her to say that she broke a bottle of ketchup and spilled it
all over herself, and she did. We can trust her. And I'm sure Maria will
go along with Liz." 

"You don't know that," Isabel insisted. "You put all of us in danger,
Max." 

"Now you know how I feel every time you use your powers," Max shot back. 

"No. Do not even try to make this about me," Isabel yelled. "You -- " 

"Liz is going to have a lot of questions," Michael cut in. "What exactly
are you planning to tell her?" 

"The truth," Max answered. 

"No way!" Michael exploded. 

Isabel stared at her brother. She recognized the expression on his face --
he had made up his mind. 

Slowly she sank down on the arm of his chair. She had to find a way to
make him really hear her. She had to convince him he was about to do
something that could destroy them all. 

"Max, we're not living in Disneyland, okay?" she said quietly. "We aren't
living in a happy, perfect place. It would be nice if we were, but we're
just not. You can't trust everyone. It's not safe." 

Max shook his head. "I'm not talking about everyone. I'm talking about
Liz." 

"Liz and probably Maria," Isabel reminded him. "You think you know them,
but there is no way you can possibly know how they'll react when you tell
them you're -- not the same as them. They might look at you and see
something totally repulsive and scary." 

Max didn't answer. Isabel could see that he wasn't convinced. 

She stood up and began to pace. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe they should
just take off. They weren't safe now that two humans were so close to
learning their secret. 

"You're the one who made the rule, Max. You made us all swear we would
never, tell anyone, remember?" Michael asked. 

Isabel could hear the strain in his voice. He sounded almost as scared as
she felt. 

"And you were right," Michael continued,"because there are humans out
there who would track us down and kill us if they found out we exist." 

Isabel heard a car pull into the driveway 

She spun to face Max. "It's happening," she spat at him. "Valenti's coming
after us already. What are we going to do?" 

*** 3 *** 

Max sprang out of the recliner and rushed down the front hall. He took a
quick look out the thin window next to the door. "Its not Valenti, it's
Liz," he told Isabel and Michael. 

Isabel slumped against the wall and closed her eyes. Max felt a pang of
worry -- he'd never seen his little sister so hysterical before. But he
didn't have time to deal with her now. He had to concentrate on Liz. 

He swung open the door before Liz rang the bell. She jumped in surprise
but quickly recovered. She stared him straight in the eye. "You said you'd
explain everything later. It's later." Liz crossed her arms and kept
looking at him. Obviously she wasn't leaving until she'd gotten an
explanation. 

Max sighed. He knew Isabel and Michael were probably ready to assassinate
him, but what else could he do? Liz must be more freaked out than all of
them -- she'd almost died. 

"Come in," he told her, ignoring Isabel's groan. "Let's go into my room.
Michael and Isabel were about to... watch a video." 

Michael and Isabel didn't say anything to back Max up. They didn't say
anything at all. They just stared at Liz. If they could, they would be
shooting death rays out of their eyes right now, he thought. Lucky for
Liz, that was one power they didn't have. 

Max led the way into his room and closed the door. 

"Uh, sit down. Do you want something to drink or anything?" Max grabbed an
armful of dirty clothes off the floor and hurled them into his closet. "We
have soda, and juice, and these power drink things Isabel likes, and
probably some other stuff." 

"No, I'm okay." Liz sat down on the bed. 

Max started to sit next to her, then changed his mind and leaned against
his dresser. He'd fantasized about having Liz Ortecho in his bedroom,
playing out every possible variation. But he'd never imagined a situation
like this. 

"So," Liz said. She fiddled with the braided silver bracelet on her wrist.

"So," Max repeated. 

Liz's aura had grown lighter. But it hadn't returned to its usual warm,
rich amber. It was a sickly yellow. What is it going to look like after I
tell her the truth about me? he thought. Is Isabel right -- will Liz see
me as some repulsive mutant creature? 

If she did, who cared about the rest? Who cared if he was captured and
experimented on? Nothing could be worse than Liz looking at him and seeing
something hideous, something to be feared. 

Max knew he had to say something soon but didn't know how to begin. 

Liz twisted her bracelet around and around. Man, she's got to be nervous
enough without me standing here staring at her, Max thought. 

"So, um, how are you feeling?" he asked. 

How are you feeling. What a dorky thing to say, he thought. 

"I'm still sort of shaky, I guess," Liz answered. "That's normal, right? I
probably have all this adrenaline racing around in my body with nothing to
do. Like I drank too much coffee -- " 

"Yeah," Max said. "When I was a kid, I almost got hit by a car. My heart
didn't quit pounding for, like, an hour. I was riding my bike. I don't
know how old I was, but I was still the age where clipping playing cards
to the spokes was considered cool, so -- " 

"Max, let's just stop. We're both totally babbling," Liz interrupted. She
took a deep breath, then continued. "I lied to everyone just like you
asked me to. But I need to know what really happened." 

"Okay. You're right. No more babbling. No babbling allowed from here out.
No -- " 

"Max!" 

"Okay, okay. But before I start -- there's no chance I could get you to
believe that ketchup bottle story, is there?" he asked. 

Liz gave a short laugh. "I don't think so." She pulled her shirt out of
her jeans. 

What was she doing? Max's mouth went dry. He struggled to keep his
expression neutral. 

Liz slowly slid up the shirt, revealing the skin of her stomach. Max
released his breath in a hiss when he saw the two shining silver
handprints. His handprints. 

"I didn't get these from a ketchup bottle," Liz said. She reached out and
took one of his hands in hers. Max held completely still. What should he
do? What did she want him to do? 

Liz met his gaze for a long moment, then she drew Max's hand toward her
stomach. She matched Max's hand to the silver print, carefully positioning
each finger. 

Can she feel me trembling? he thought. When he was healing her, Max had
been totally focused on dissolving the bullet and closing the wound. But
now... now he was hyperaware of the texture of Liz's skin, soft and
smooth. So warm underneath his palm. 

Max sat down next to Liz. She kept his hand pressed against her stomach.
"You did this, Max," she said, her voice charged with emotion. "You saved
my life. How?" 

He slowly removed his hand. Liz dropped her shirt back down. 

"I don't know how to start," he admitted. 

"Just tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me," Liz said. 

This is Liz, Max reminded himself. They had been in school together since
the third grade. If Max had to pick one human to tell the truth about
himself, he would choose Liz. She really cared about things, about people.
So do it, he thought. 

"You know I'm adopted, right?" he asked. 

"Uh-huh." Liz waited. 

"My parents, my real parents, are dead." 

"Oh, God, Max. That's awful," Liz answered. "I didn't know. Do you
remember much about them?" 

Typical Liz. She'd already forgotten all about herself, about the
questions she wanted answered. Now she was totally focused on him. 

"I don't remember them at all. I wish I did," Max answered. "But I
think... I think I inherited the power to heal, the power I used on you,
from them." 

Liz started to respond, but Max rushed on. If he didn't keep going, he was
afraid he'd never get it out. 

"My parents died in the Roswell crash. They... they weren't human. And
neither am I. That's why I can do things like, you know, heal. With my
hands." 

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Liz inched away from Max on the
bed. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded way too calm. 

"I don't know what you want me to say," she said, not meeting Max's eyes.
"Should I start with the fact that the UFO crash supposedly happened more
than fifty years ago -- and you're only a senior in high school? So your
parents have been dead longer than you've been alive?" 

She didn't believe him. Max had never even considered the possibility that
she wouldn't believe him. 

"There were incubation pods on board, and -- ," Max began, but Liz didn't
let him finish. 

"Or maybe I should just skip ahead to the really big problem with your
story -- there was no Roswell crash. Every scientific investigation has
confirmed that." 

Liz stood up and put on her jacket. "You know, I thought you trusted me. I
thought you were going to tell me the truth." Her voice was cold, and ugly
crimson splotches had appeared in her aura. Max had never seen her so
angry. 

He blew out a sigh of frustration. He'd been so focused on how Liz would
react when he told her the truth that he hadn't stopped to think she might
not believe him. Who would believe him? It was like saying he was the
child of the Loch Ness monster or something. 

He had to find a way to convince her. If Liz walked out of here feeling
like he'd been jerking her around, Max didn't know what she'd do. She
might even decide to tell Sheriff Valenti what had really happened at the
cafe. 

"What about Colonel William Blanchard?" Max blurted. It was the first
thing that popped into his head. "He was the commander of the army
airfield. The guy was in charge of an atomic bomb squad strike force, so
he had to be pretty well respected. He made the announcement that a flying
disk was recovered." 

"I really don't want to have a world's-greatest-unsolved-mysteries kind of
conversation with you right 

now," Liz snapped. "You promised me you would tell me everything, and
you're obviously not going to do it." 

She turned toward the door. 

"I would never lie to you, Liz," Max said desperately. "Let me prove it." 

"Fine. You have two minutes. Prove it." 

He jumped up and grabbed her hand. Liz jerked away, but Max held tight.
"You said you wanted proof," he reminded her. 

"Okay," she murmured warily. 

Max began rubbing her bracelet, concentrating on the molecules if silver.
He gave the molecules a little tap with his mind. He wanted them to move
apart, but not too much. Just a little more, he thought. He gave the
molecules another tap and felt the bracelet turn to liquid under his
fingers. 

Liz gave a tiny gasp as the bracelet began to drip off her wrist. The
metal melted faster, sliding to the floor in a silver stream. It formed a
circular puddle at Liz's feet. 

"I was telling you the truth, Liz," Max whispered. "I swear." 

Liz stared down at the silver pool, then raised her eyes to Max's face.
"I... I have to go." She slowly backed toward the door -- as if he were
some vicious animal that might attack if she moved too quickly. 

Max felt his throat close up. She's looking at me like she doesn't even
know me, he thought. 

"Liz, wait!" he begged. 

She moved faster. "I -- I can't," she said. "I just... can't." 

Max was frantic. He had to find a way to fix things. He couldn't let her
leave like this. 

Quickly he reached down and plunged his hands into the silver puddle,
molding it in his hands, pushing the molecules back together. When the
bracelet was re-formed, he held it out to Liz. 

Take it, he thought. Please just take it. All you have to do is move one
step toward me. 

Liz opened her mouth, then closed it. She turned and bolted out the door. 

Max stared down at the bracelet in his hand. He slowly walked over to his
dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer. He gently placed the bracelet
all the way in the back and covered it with clothes. 

He didn't want to see it again. He didn't want any reminder of the way Liz
had looked at him when she finally understood what he really was. 

*** 

Liz tried to put the key in the ignition, but her hand was shaking too
hard. "Come on, come on, come on," she whispered. She didn't want to be
there if Max decided to follow her. 

She used her other hand to help guide the key into place and started the
engine. The car gave a little jerk as she pulled out onto the street. 

When she reached the comer, she turned left instead of right. She would go
straight to Maria's. She couldn't deal with going home yet. Her parents
would start fussing over. her, and Liz was afraid she'd just blurt out
everything to them. 

Her mother would probably insist she go to a doctor or something. And Papa
was a total law-abiding citizen -- he didn't even jaywalk -- so he would
make her call Sheriff Valenti and tell him exactly what happened. Liz
wasn't ready to do that. 

She didn't know what she wanted to do. Thinking about Max made her brain
freeze up, like a computer trying to download a file that was way too big.

Liz made another left. She'd driven to Maria's so many times, she could do
it on autopilot. She picked up speed as she headed down the street. 

Stop sign, she told herself as she approached the intersection. Stop sign!
But the message didn't get from her brain to her foot fast enough, and she
drove straight through. She heard a car horn give a long, angry honk
behind her. "Sorry," Liz whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Tears filled
her eyes, blurring her view of the road in front of her. Drawing in a
shuddering breath, she swerved over to the curb and stopped. Her heart
pounded in her ears. It was beating so hard, she could feel it in her
fingertips as she clenched the steering wheel with both hands. She slowly
let out her breath. 

Okay, just calm down, she thought. Maria's house was only a few more
blocks away. Liz checked the rearview mirror; she checked the side mirror;
she looked over her shoulder and checked her blind spot. Then she slowly
started back down the street. 

She concentrated on driving the same way she had the day she took her
driver's test. She made sure she stayed exactly at the speed limit, not
one mile slower or faster. She came to a full and complete stop at the
next stop sign. She clicked on her turn signal early enough -- but not too
early -- when she reached Maria's street, and she did a perfect
parallel-parking job in front of Maria's house. 

Made it, she thought. She climbed out of the car and hurried up the front
walk. She rang the bell, waited one second, and rang it again. 

"I could have used you two minutes earlier," Maria said when she opened
the door. She led the way into the living room, still talking. "My mother
just went out on a date looking like some rock star. I told her she should
change, but of course she wouldn't listen to me. Maybe if you had -- " 

"I talked to Max," Liz interrupted. 

"You look awful," Maria exclaimed. "I'm sorry. I didn't even notice -- I
was in total rant mode. What happened? What did he say?" 

Liz sat down on the overstuffed couch. There was no good way to tell her,
so Liz just blurted it out. "He said he was an alien." 

Maria giggled. 

"I'm serious." 

Maria giggled louder. "Does... does he have antennae?" she asked, cracking
herself up. She plopped down on the couch next to Liz and rocked back and
forth, her shoulders shaking with laughter. 

Liz waited. When Maria was in one of her laughing fits, she was pretty
much unstoppable. 

"Did he let you see his laser gun?" Maria laughed so hard, she snorted,
which made her laugh even more. Her cheeks turned red, and tears stood out
in her eyes. 

Finally she noticed that Liz wasn't laughing, too. "Oops. I'm sorry." She
gave one last giggle. Then she sat up straight and blotted her eyes with
one of the couch's little throw pillows. "Tell me what really happened." 

"I just did," Liz said. She rushed on before Maria could start laughing
again. "Think about it. You said yourself that I was about to die, that
blood was pouring out of me. Max healed me. He closed up the wound just by
touching it. What human could do that?" 

Maria stared at Liz in astonishment. At least she knows I'm being serious,
Liz thought. "I know it sounds crazy. I thought Max was jerking me around
when he told me that. I thought he was just handing me a totally lame
story. 

"But then he touched my silver bracelet, and it melted." 

Maria's eyes were wide and frightened. 

"Do you know how hot silver has to get before it melts?" Liz asked, her
voice rising. "Nine hundred and sixty-one degrees Celsius. And the
bracelet didn't even get hot. It didn't even feel warm. It's impossible!
It should be impossible -- but Max did it." She broke off, rubbing her
wrist. There wasn't a red mark or anything where the bracelet had been. 

"I... I think we need some of my special antistress tea," Maria said. She
stood up and headed toward the kitchen without another word. 

Liz followed her. "Are you okay?" 

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Definitely." Maria grabbed the copper teapot and carried it
over to the sink. She turned on the water and let it run into the pot
until it spilled over the sides. Maria stared at it, her eyes blank. 

Liz took the pot away from her. "Let's just sit down. We're both a little
too freaked to be using major appliances." 

"You're right." Maria slid into a kitchen chair, and Liz sat down next to
her. "So what do we do now?" 

"I don't know," Liz answered. "I don't know where to start. It's not as if
I can go on-line and do research on the culture and beliefs of aliens from
Max's planet. I mean, I don't know if they -- if Max's... species -- just
want to live here with us, or if they want to wipe us out and take over." 

Hard evidence, that's what she wanted, the kind she gathered when she did
a biology experiment. It was what she loved about science -- all the
absolute facts. It was reassuring to have proof that there was some order
to the universe, some rules that were always followed. 

After what happened today, she didn't know what the rules were anymore.
And that frightened her. 

"You remember the end of ET?" Maria asked suddenly. "How those government
guys were going to come in and take him away?" 

Liz nodded, her thoughts still on a world where the periodic chart no
longer applied. 

"Do you think that's what would happen to Max if we told people the truth
about him?" Maria continued. 

"I don't know," Liz admitted. "I doubt everyone would just be like, Oh, an
alien, that's interesting. There must be people out there who would want
to study him or do tests on him. They could lock Max away for the rest of
his life or even -- " 

Liz couldn't say it. 

"Or even kill him," Maria finished for her. 

Liz flashed on an image of Max lying on the ground, still and cold. She
felt a rush of pure emotion that went beyond any facts. She couldn't let
that happen. She couldn't let Max die. 

"We can never tell anyone the truth," she told Maria. 

"Never," Maria repeated. "Wait. What about Alex? Can't we even tell him?" 

"Maria, no! We can't tell anyone." 

Liz wished they could tell Alex. She totally trusted him, and they both
told him practically everything. But Max's secret was like a deadly virus
-- it had to be contained, or someone could die. Max could die. 

Maria flicked a crumb off the table. "So, um, what do you think Max really
looks like?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, what are the chances that the beings on the planet he came from
look exactly like humans? Don't you think the way Max looks must be sort
of a disguise?" 

Liz didn't know how to answer. Max was just Max. She wasn't used to
thinking of him as some kind of creature. 

Maria stood up and wandered back to the sink. She set the teapot on the
stove. "I wonder if he can eat the same food we do. I saw this movie where
the aliens could only eat decomposed flesh -- you know, where bacteria and
bugs did part of the digesting for them." 

Liz watched Maria pour tea leaves into little silver balls. She couldn't
believe the way her friend was talking about Max. They had both known him
forever, but Maria was talking about him as if he were something on the
Discovery Channel. 

"Maybe he's like the Fly. Maybe he just spews some kind of acid on his
food and then -- sluurp, sucks it up. What do you think? You're the
science guru." 

"God, Maria," Liz muttered. 

Maria didn't hear her. She kept on chattering away. "Do you think he sees
humans as some kind of inferior life-form? Like, are we just lumps of meat
to him?" 

Max always picked Maria to be on his team when they played softball in the
sixth grade -- he picked her first, even though she was one of the worst
players. He made Paula Perry stop harassing Maria the first year of junior
high. He didn't tell his insurance company when Maria dinged his car in
the school parking lot last year. 

It's like she's forgotten all the nice things he's done for her -- and for
half the other people in school, Liz thought. Now he's just the alien boy.

No wonder it was so hard for Max to tell Liz the truth about himself. He
probably thought she was going to treat him like some kind of freak. 

And I did, Liz realized. I practically ran out of his room. 

She shivered as she pictured Max's eyes. The pain and humiliation filling
his beautiful blue eyes as she backed away from him. 

I never even thanked him for saving my life. 

*** 4 *** 

Come on, Max, Michael thought. Get me out of here. 

Right on cue he heard the horn of Max's Jeep. Yes! He couldn't stand being
in this house one more second. Michael strode toward the front door,
shrugging on his jacket as he walked. 

"Hold it," Mr. Hughes called as Michael started past the kitchen. "The
backyard looks like a jungle. I want it mowed before you go anywhere." 

"It's going to be dark in half an hour," Michael protested. 

Mr. Hughes smirked at him. Michael hated that little smirk. "Then you'll
have to work fast, won't you?" 

Michael didn't want to get into a shouting match with the guy. It wasn't
worth it. He struggled to keep his voice calm. "Is there some reason you
couldn't have told me you wanted the lawn mowed this morning, or this
afternoon, or even an hour ago? Max is outside waiting for me." 

"Well, he'll just have to keep waiting. Come and get me when you're
finished. I want to see what kind of job you did before you take off
anywhere." 

Michael hated the way Mr. Hughes was always playing his little power
games. Hughes didn't care about the backyard. That old green truck of his
had been up on blocks in the far corner since before Michael moved in. It
had totally destroyed that patch of grass, but he didn't care. Hughes only
cared about showing Michael who was in charge. 

In less than a year I'll be eighteen, Michael thought. Then I'm out of
here. No more foster homes. No more foster parents. No more being told
that an endless string of strangers are my family. 

"Fine. I'll mow the backyard," Michael muttered. Then he walked out the
front door and closed it quietly behind him. He trotted over to Max's Jeep
to tell him he had to wait.. 

But when he reached the Jeep, he snapped. Forget Hughes. Forget the
idiotic social services people who thought sticking him in strangers'
houses meant he was being taken care of. He just couldn't deal with it
tonight. He couldn't stand out in the backyard while Hughes inspected his
work, finding a dozen little things Michael forgot to do or did wrong. 

He climbed into the Jeep. "Floor it," Michael ordered. 

Max didn't ask any questions. He just took off down the street, past the
well-tended houses and neatly kept yards of the south side. 

Michael had lived in every neighborhood in town -- from the run-down
section by the old military base to the historic district with its big
houses and big trees. Living in the historic district was cool. He didn't
really care about the nice houses, but he liked living so close to Max and
Isabel. 

"Where to?" Max asked as they headed out of town, miles and miles of flat
desert stretching in front of them. 

"I want to try that arroyo we saw on our way back last week." Michael
pulled a battered map out of his pocket. He popped open the glove
compartment, grabbed a pencil, and began shading in the area he planned to
search tonight. It was about sixty miles out of Roswell and fifteen miles
from the crash site. 

Max glanced over at him. "A couple more years of this, and you'll have
half of New Mexico colored in." 

"Not quite," Michael answered. They had covered a lot of ground over the
years. But Michael wanted to do more. He wished he could search all day
every day instead of once a week. 

"It's been a while since we've found anything. Maybe we're getting too far
away from the crash site," Max said. 

"We might be too far to find debris, but I still think the ship is stashed
somewhere in the desert, not more than a few hours' drive from the site,"
Michael answered. "They wouldn't want to risk taking it farther. Too many
people would have to be involved. There would be too many questions." 

Max gave a noncommittal grunt. Michael knew that Max doubted they would
ever find the ship. And Isabel kept saying they were fools to keep
looking. She'd given up the search a long time ago. But Michael was never
going to give up. And Max would keep coming out to the desert with him
every week as long as Michael wanted him to. Michael could count on Max.
Always could, always would. 

Michael clicked on the radio. He didn't really feel like talking, and it
didn't seem as if Max did, either. He was probably thinking about Liz. 

Michael didn't know what that girl had said to Max when they were alone in
his room. But whatever it was, it had totally annihilated him. After she
left, Max told Michael and Isabel that Liz would keep their secret. He
promised them they weren't in any danger. But Max hadn't sounded happy or
even relieved, and he looked like he'd been punched in the gut. 

Liz couldn't handle the truth. Michael was sure of that. She probably
treated Max like some kind of freak. 

We just don't belong, he thought. We're never going to fit in. It's never
going to feel right living here. And that's why he had to find a way out.
He would make it back to his home planet, his real home, no matter what it
took. Maybe he even had some relatives there. 

Michael watched the sun sink lower and lower, turning the sky pink and
orange. Slowly the colors faded, then turned to black, and stars began to
appear. 

He wished it could be night all the time. At night somehow it felt like
his home planet was closer, almost in reach, up there behind the stars
somewhere. At night he felt positive that he would find the ship, positive
that he would somehow find his way back. 

During the day... sometimes during the day it seemed hopeless. It felt
like there was nothing up there at all. No home to go back to. 

"We're coming up to the arroyo," Max said. "Do you want to drive or hike?"

"Hike." Michael needed to cool off. He figured after a long hike he might
be ready to go back and see Mr. Hughes without wanting to punch his face
in. 

Max parked the Jeep. Michael sprang out and half slid, half climbed down
the side of the arroyo. He could hear Max right behind him. 

When Michael reached the bottom, he turned in a slow circle, scanning the
walls and floor of the arroyo. He didn't know what he was looking for
exactly, just something that didn't belong. 

One of the other things Michael liked about night was how clearly he could
see. His vision was better in the dark than it was during the day. It made
the weekly nighttime searches easier. Having the advantage over any
curious humans who happened by was a bonus, too. 

"I'll go south, you go north?" Max asked. 

Michael nodded and set off. We're due to find something, he thought. It's
been way too long. It had been almost a year since Max found the strip of
thin, flexible metal that they both figured was part of their parents'
ship. It had to be. It was like nothing they'd ever seen before. If you
crumpled it up, it immediately straightened itself out. It was
indestructible. Michael had tried cutting it with pruning shears. He'd
even taken a blowtorch to it once. But the metal, if that's what it was,
always returned to its original shape, undamaged. 

The sound of a bunch of sheep baaing interrupted Michael's thoughts. He
stood still and listened. Was someone out there? Someone who had spooked
the sheep? 

The sheep quieted down again. Now all Michael could hear was the sound of
his own breathing and the tiny scratch, scratch, scratch of a blue belly
lizard's claws as it darted across a rock. Guess it was nothing, he
decided. 

He pulled a plastic bottle out of his backpack and took a swig of the
grape soda laced with hot sauce. He knew it would make humans gag, but he
figured his taste buds worked differently because he could drink it all
day. He hiked forward. 

When he was a kid, every time they came out to the desert, he'd been
positive they would find the ship. He thought he would just hop in and fly
himself and Michael and Isabel home. He was sure that somehow he'd just
know exactly how all the controls worked. 

Then when he was a couple of years older, he saw that old Superman movie
on TV There was a scene where Superman found a crystal that showed a
hologram of his dead father, and he got to have all these conversations
with him. 

For a long time Michael hoped he'd find something like that crystal.
Something that would show him his father's face, at least. 

But he grew up. And he never found anything to tell him who he really was.
Now all Michael wanted was a clue, a hint. Anything that would lead him to
the next place to look. Anything to keep him hoping. 

He walked on and on, studying every rock, every crevice. He hadn't even
found a gum wrapper when he heard Max's shrill whistle, the signal that it
was time to head back. 

Max was already in the driver's seat when Michael climbed back up to the
top of the arroyo. Michael didn't ask him if he'd found anything. He
already knew the answer. 

"Drop me off at the cave on the way back, okay?" Michael asked as he swung
into the Jeep. "I think I'm going to sack out there." 

Max nodded and turned the Jeep toward town. The cave was about twenty
miles outside Roswell, much closer to town than to the crash site. 

Michael had spent more time in the cave than he had in any of his foster
homes. It was a special place -- the first place he had seen when he broke
free of his incubation pod. He'd been about seven years old -- at least he
looked about the same as a seven-year-old human child, although he must
have been incubating for about forty years. 

He'd wanted to stay in the cave forever. The desert outside seemed too big
and bright to him. He felt safer in the dim light with the solid limestone
walls all around him. 

Michael had spent days huddled next to the unopened pod -- it was the one
Max and Isabel shared, but he didn't know that then -- pressing himself
against its warm surface. The tiny rustling sounds he heard inside it kept
him company. 

Finally thirst and hunger drove him into the desert. A local rancher found
him drinking from the same stream the guy's sheep used. The man took him
into town, and Michael was placed in the orphanage. From there he went to
his very first foster home. 

It took him only a week to learn English. Less than that for math. The
social services people had figured he was at a fifth-grade level when they
started him at Roswell Elementary. They never could figure out why he
didn't remember his parents or where he came from. 

Michael still remembered the day Max brought in a piece of amethyst to
show the class. He had said he liked it because it was the same color as
the ring of light around their teacher, Mr. Tollifson. All the other kids
laughed. Mr. Tollifson said it was nice that Max had such a good
imagination. 

And Michael had the amazing, joy-inducing realization that he wasn't alone
anymore. Someone else could see what he saw. 

"Mr. Cuddihy isn't going to be happy if the Hugheses complain that you've
been staying out all night again," Max commented as they drove down the
empty highway. 

"Mr. Cuddihy is never happy," Michael answered. His social worker would
have to deal. And if the Hugheses made too big a stink about it, Mr.
Cuddihy would probably have to start looking for foster home number
eleven. His social worker would just have to deal with that, too. 

"You can come home with me," Max volunteered. "My parents won't care." 

"Nah. I feel like being by myself," Michael answered. 

He wouldn't mind hanging out all night at the Evanses'. But he didn't want
to be there for breakfast in the morning. Mrs. Evans was always so
cheerful. She'd be asking a million questions about school and stuff. And
Mr. Evans would be reading the comics out loud with all his goofy voices.
It was way too much family for Michael to handle. 

Sometimes Michael wondered what his life would have been like if the
Evanses had been the ones to find him instead of that rancher. If he had
just been in a different place at a different time, he could have had Max
and Isabel's life, growing up with parents who loved him. Don't even go
there, Michael thought. It's pointless. 

"You sure you don't want to come back with me?" Max asked. "My mom would
probably make you blueberry pancakes, and we have that brown mustard you
like to go with them." 

Michael shook his head. He was used to being alone now. He was good at it.
There was no point in getting used to something that would just get taken
away. 

*** 

Isabel pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and stared inside. Her
makeup was neatly organized by use, brand, and color. Maybe I should make
little combinations of blush, eye shadow, lipstick, and nail polish, she
thought. Then I could just pull out the set that matched whatever outfit I
have on and -- 

No. That would be way too anal. Isabel gently closed the drawer. 

She had to stop driving herself nuts over this whole Liz Ortecho
situation. If she didn't watch herself, she'd move on to organizing her
shoes by heel height and width and embroidering the days of the week on
her panties. 

Okay, here's what I'll do, Isabel decided. If I get even a hint that Liz
is going to open her fat mouth, I'll go into her dreams and find a way to
drive her crazy. She can spend the rest of her life in an insane asylum,
babbling about aliens. No one will pay any attention to her. 

Isabel stretched out on her bed and smiled. Poor Liz. I can see her now.
She might even have to get shock treatment. 

Now that she had that little problem solved, it was time to decide
something really important. What to wear to the homecoming dance. Isabel
planned to be crowned homecoming queen, and she wanted to look good. Well,
she always looked good. But she wanted to look good. 

Isabel grabbed a magazine off her night table and started flipping through
it. Definitely not that pink froufrou thing, she thought. The girl looks
like she went shopping after an overdose of Prozac. Being that happy just
wasn't attractive. 

And not that red rag with the built-in push-up bra. No, no, no. "Somebody
call 1-800-Go Ricki," she mumbled. "I have a candidate for the 'My Best
Friend Went to the Homecoming Dance Dressed Like A Hoochie Mama' show." 

She threw the magazine on the floor and picked up a movie magazine. She
studied a photo of a British movie star going into some premiere wearing
an ice blue slip dress. Simple. Sexy. And oh, so Isabel. 

She would go shopping tomorrow. All she had to do was talk her dad out of
his credit card. It had been a few months since the last time. And the
homecoming dance was a very important event in a girl's life. He would
understand that. 

Isabel checked the clock -- 2 A. M. She'd already gotten in the two hours
of sleep she needed, and there were hours and hours to go before she had
to get ready for school. She reached for the remote, then changed her
mind. Late-night TV sucked. She'd already seen every infomercial about a
hundred times. If only humans didn't need so much sleep, there would be
good stuff on all night. 

She could go see what Max was doing or call up Michael. But they would
probably end up arguing about Liz, and Isabel wasn't in the mood. 

Isabel checked the clock again. All the guys in Roswell should be asleep
by now. She could do some dream walking and make extra sure she would get
the votes she needed to be elected homecoming queen. Not that there was
any real doubt, but Isabel was a junior, and usually the homecoming queen
was a senior. Besides, it was something to do. 

She closed her eyes and allowed her breathing to become slow and even.
Years of practice made it easy for her to slip into the state between
sleep and wakefulness, the place where the shimmering dream orbs were
visible. 

She never got tired of watching the dream orbs swirl around her, like
giant soap bubbles blown with an enchanted bubble wand. Each orb gave off
one pure note of music, and Isabel had spent a lot of hours matching up
the people she knew with the sound of their dream orb. 

Who should I choose tonight? Hmmm. I think it's Alex Manes's turn, she
decided. She listened for the sonorous sound of Alex's dream orb, a sound
so rich, she could almost taste it. Yes, there it was. 

Isabel stretched out her arms and began to hum, calling the orb to her. It
spun into her hands and she peered into it, feeling like a gypsy with a
crystal ball. Inside the orb she could see a miniature version of one of
the halls of Ulysses F. Olsen High. Alex was dreaming about school. How
fun. 

She hummed louder, and the orb expanded. When it was large enough, she
stepped through, the surface of the soap bubble soft against her skin. 

Alex must have a good visual memory, she thought. His dream version of
school was pretty accurate. She giggled as he ran down the hall past her. 

"The calculus final can't be today," Alex cried. "It's only October. I
didn't study." 

"The final isn't today," Isabel said calmly. 

Alex spun around to face her. His red hair was mussed, as if he'd been
nervously running his fingers through it. "Are you sure?4 I just saw Mr.
O'Brien, and he said the test had already started. He said he was taking
off ten points for every second I was late." 

"He was teasing you. The only thing you're late for is the homecoming
dance." Isabel took Alex by the hand and led him toward the gym. He didn't
ask one question. She loved how easy it was to convince people of stuff in
dreams. 

Isabel pushed open the gym's big double doors. A spotlight hit her and
Alex, and crowns appeared on their heads. 

"Can you believe we won?" Isabel asked. "We got elected homecoming queen
and king! I think we're supposed to lead this dance." 

"Oh. Really? You and me?" Alex blinked into the spotlight. 

"You and me." Isabel wrapped her arms around Alex's neck and rested her
head on his shoulder. Nice, she thought. Exactly the right height. And he
smells good, too. 

Isabel usually liked a few more muscles. Washboard abs and powerful legs.
But Alex's lean body felt... mmmm. 

You're here to work, not to have fun, she reminded herself. She raised her
head and gazed up at him -- the universal language for "kiss me." 

Alex's gaze drifted to her lips. He pulled her closer. She could feel his
warm breath against her cheeks, then... 

She snapped herself out of the orb. Her lips curved into a satisfied
smile. That's another vote for me, she thought. She loved playing with
their minds. 

*** 5 *** 

"Smell this." Maria thrust a tiny vial of liquid under Liz's nose. "It's
cedar. It's really soothing. You'll go into bio feeling at peace." 

Liz obediently took a sniff, but she didn't think anything would make her
feel less nervous about seeing Max. How was she going to face him after
the way she bolted out of his house? What was she going to say to him? 

"Feel better?" Maria asked. 

"A little, I guess," Liz fibbed. If she said no, Maria would just make her
smell something else. Maria was totally into aromatherapy, and she
definitely wanted to convert Liz. 

"Now that I know the truth about Max, I -- " Liz stopped abruptly as Alex
plopped down on the ground next to them with two slices of pizza, a
brownie, a bag of fried pork rinds, and an orange soda balanced in his
hands. 

Alex glanced from Liz to Maria, then back to Liz. "Okay, what's going on?
You two look guilty." 

"Uh, uh, we were just -- ," Maria began. 

"We were just saying how much we love that new box of tampons -- the one
where they put all the sizes together," Liz jumped in. Maria was such an
awful liar. "They have the junior ones, for really light days, and -- " 

"Wait," Alex exclaimed. "I'm starting to feel really left out. If you
don't stop, I'm going to get my feelings hurt." 

"Just admit it," Liz answered. "You can't even take hearing the word tarn
-- " 

"Okay, okay. You're right," Alex said quickly. "If either of you ever want
to break up with a guy but don't know how, just start talking about...
that a lot." 

"Sounds like the beginning of one of your lists," Liz said. 

"Hey, yeah! I've been trying to figure out what the next one should be,"
he answered. 

Alex had a web site filled with lists like "How to Know When to Bring a
Barf Bag to a Movie" and "How to Guarantee Your Kid Will Grow Up to Be a
Serial Killer or a Game Show Host." Once he got an idea for a list, he
could talk about it for hours. And today that's exactly what Liz wanted
him to do. She didn't want to get anywhere near the Max subject, not with
Maria, the world's worst liar, sitting next to her. 

"Okay, what else, what else?" Alex took a big bite of his pizza. 

Maria rummaged around in her purse and pulled out a capsule filled with
something green. She handed it to Alex. "Here. If you're going to eat that
garbage, you need a little herbal boost. I blended this myself. It has
great stuff in it." 

Alex squinted at the capsule, then tossed it into his mouth and washed it
down with a big swallow of the orange soda. "Okay, I got it. Here's
another great way to get rid of a guy. Tell him you think it would be so
cute if you started wearing matching outfits to school." 

Liz took a little bite of her sandwich, then set it down. She was too
anxious to eat. 

"What about Rick Surmacz and Maggie McMahon?" Maria asked. "Maggie makes
him wear the same colors as her practically every day, and they've been
together since the seventh grade." 

"Yeah, but everyone knows Maggie gave Rick a lobotomy," Alex shot back.
"He has all the signs. Right, Liz?" 

"Huh? Oh yeah," she mumbled. She had kind of stopped paying attention once
she was sure Alex was on a safe topic. 

"Is something -- ," Alex began. Then his expression turned grim. "Kyle
Valenti at four o'clock." 

Oh, great, Liz thought. This is exactly what I need right now. 

Kyle plopped down next to her on the grass -- without waiting for an
invitation. "So, Liz, when are we going out again?" he asked. 

He's like a deranged Energizer Bunny, Liz thought. How many times am I
going to have to tell him no before his batteries run out? 

"That would be never. I told you that, Kyle," Liz said firmly. She reached
across Maria and grabbed one of Alex's pork rinds. She didn't want one --
she thought they were pretty disgusting, actually -- but she hoped maybe
if she ignored Kyle, he'd just go away. 

"Am I missing something? Are you, like, the hottest girl in school? What
makes you think you're so special?" Kyle demanded. 

Maria nudged Liz. She's probably madder than I am, Liz thought. 

"Kyle, get a clue, get some therapy, get a life," Liz said. "Just get over
it." 

Maria nudged Liz again. "Your shirt," she whispered. 

Liz glanced down and saw that her baby tee had ridden up -- revealing one
of the silver handprints on her stomach. When I reached for the pork rind,
she thought. 

Did Kyle notice? Probably not, she decided. The prints had begun to fade,
and Kyle was pretty distracted by the sound of his own voice. Liz slid the
shirt -- back down, trying to make the movement look casual. 

"You should get rid of your attitude," Kyle was saying. "You -- " 

"That's it, Valenti," Alex interrupted. "Get lost." 

Kyle pushed himself to his feet and stared down at Alex. "What -- are you
going to make me?" Kyle demanded. 

Alex stood up and faced off with him. Alex was shorter than Kyle, and he
probably weighed twenty-five pounds less. But he didn't back down. He took
a step closer. 

Wonderful, Liz thought, rolling her eyes. Now I have to be nice to Kyle so
that he doesn't kill Alex. 

"Look, Kyle," she said in her sweetest voice. "I didn't mean to -- " 

"Forget it, okay? Don't even bother." Kyle moved away from Alex and
glanced around the quad. He jerked his chin toward Isabel Evans. "Who
cares about you? If she didn't want to go out with me, then I'd have to be
upset." He stalked off. 

Alex sat back down. "What a total and complete jerk." 

"Yeah, Liz is much, much prettier than Isabel," Maria added. 

Liz cracked up. "I don't think that's what he meant," she told Maria. 

Maria turned to Alex. "Oh, come on. Liz is way more gorgeous than Isabel,
right?" 

"Different types," Alex muttered. 

"Yeah. Liz treats guys like human beings. Isabel treats guys like dirt,"
Maria answered. "I don't know why any guy would want to go out with her." 

Alex looked over at Isabel. "Yeah. Blond hair, blue eyes, curvy body. Who
would want to get close to that?" 

Maria whacked him on the shoulder. "I will never understand guys. Just
because you like how she looks, you don't care that she has the
personality of a taxidermist." 

"I had a dream about her the other night, and it had nothing to do with
dead animals," Alex protested. 

"It's hard to believe she and Max are brother and sister," Liz said. "I
mean, yeah, they have the same hair and eyes." 

"But not the same curvy body," Alex joked. Liz ignored him. "But Max's
personality is totally different. Max is nice to everyone." 

Maria grabbed Liz by the arm. "I just realized. Isabel is Max's sister.
Does that mean she's also a -- " 

Liz slapped her hand over Maria's mouth. She couldn't believe Maria had
almost blurted out Max's secret. She was going to have to sit her down and
remind her how serious it would be for Max if the truth about him got out.

"A what?" Alex asked. 

"Oh no," Liz said. "Don't try to weasel out of it. You have to tell us
your dream. You brought it up -- that means you have to tell." 

Maria pulled Liz's hand off her mouth. She gave Liz a little nod to show
she understood. "Yeah. I'll analyze it for you. I've read every dream book
there is." 

"There's not much to analyze," Alex said. 

Another save by Liz Ortecho, Liz thought. She glanced over at Isabel
Evans. She looked so, well, normal. But Maria had a good point. Could
Isabel be an alien, too? She must be -- she was Max's sister. Liz knew
they were both adopted, and they looked practically like twins. Liz stared
around the quad. Were Max and Isabel the only two aliens at school? Or
were there aliens everywhere, and she just hadn't known about it? 

"Come on," Maria said. "Details, Alex." 

"Okay, but try not to laugh." Alex looked embarrassed. "I was at the
homecoming dance with Isabel -- and we were the homecoming king and queen.
We had on the crowns and everything." 

"Oh, stop. I'm going to hurl." Maria made loud barfing sounds. 

"What do you think? Is it a sign? Should I try and get up the guts to,
like, talk to her or something?" Alex asked. 

"No!" Liz blurted. 

Alex looked hurt. 

But Liz couldn't worry about his feelings. She'd suddenly remembered
something about Isabel. The other day, at Max's house, Isabel had stared
at Liz with pure hatred. 

She's afraid I'm going to betray Max, Liz realized. And if people
discovered Max was an alien, they'd know Isabel was one, too. Liz's
stomach began to tingle. Isabel must be terrified. No wonder she hated
Liz. Would she come after me? Liz wondered. Try to hurt my friends? 

Liz didn't know. But she did know one thing -- she didn't want Alex
anywhere near Isabel. 

"It's just that, like Maria said, she treats guys like dirt," Liz told
Alex. "You deserve better." 

"I guess you're right," Alex said. But Liz noticed he was staring at
Isabel when he said it. 

*** 

"I have this craving for a doughnut. Want to go to the doughnut place?"
Max asked. He ate the last bite of his burger and shoved the tray across
the cafeteria table. 

"But that would mean... cutting school." Michael opened his gray eyes wide
and stared at Max with mock horror. 

Max sniffed the air. "Can you smell them? Can you smell the crullers
sliding out of the oven?" He pulled a couple of packets of hot sauce out
of his jacket pocket and waved them in front of his friend's face. He knew
crullers with hot sauce were Michael's favorite. 

"I have a history test, and I would not think of jeopardizing my education
for a cruller," Michael said primly. 

"Have you ever had one when they're still hot, because I think today is
cruller baking day," Max said. 

"Do you think I'm that easy?" Michael demanded. "Besides, it's not like
you can hide from the girl for the rest of your life." 

"Yeah, you're right." Max didn't bother to pretend that he didn't know who
Michael was talking about. 

The bell rang. "I kind of like giving you advice for a change," Michael
said as they headed out. 

"Don't get too used to it," Max answered. He started up the stairs to his
advanced placement bio class. Would Liz even be there? He'd thought about
bailing -- why wouldn't she? 

Max couldn't decide if he hoped she'd be there or not. He wanted to see
her and make sure she was okay. But he couldn't take it if she looked at
him the way she did on Saturday, all scared and weirded out and... and
repulsed. Man, he would never forget the expression on her face. 

He hesitated outside the door. Don't be a wuss, he told himself, and
stepped inside. Liz was there. He should have known she wouldn't cut. She
wasn't really the kind of person who backed away from things. 

He knew she noticed him come in -- her shoulders tensed a little, and the
sickly yellow steaks that still marred her amber aura grew a little
darker. But she didn't look up. She kept her eyes focused on the lab table
as she set up their microscope. 

Max took a detour to check on the lab mice. Admit it, he thought as he fed
them a few pieces of celery. You're stalling. "Wish me luck," he whispered
to Fred, his favorite mouse. Then he forced himself to walk over to the
lab station he shared with Liz. 

"We're doing a comparison between animal and plant cells today," Liz said
in a rush when Max slid onto his lab stool. "I'm trying to decide which
category a couch potato would fall into." 

Her laugh sounded a little fake. But at least she was trying to joke
around with him the way she usually did -- even if she still hadn't
managed to look at him. 

If Liz was going to act as if nothing had happened, he would, too. We
should both get Oscar nominations after this class, Max thought. 

"Okay, let's get started," Ms. Hardy called. "Everyone on the left, use a
vegetable scraping to make a slide. Everyone on the right, use a swab to
get some cells from the inside of your cheek and do a slide. When you've
answered the questions on your own slide -- animal or plant -- then trade
with another team and answer the rest." 

Max picked up one of the swabs. "I'll do it." 

Liz grabbed the swab away. "Are you crazy?" she demanded. She lowered her
voice. "Do you even know what your cells look like? What if they don't
look... the same?" 

She was right. Ms. Hardy often walked around and looked at their slides.
And if there was something different about his cells, she would definitely
notice. 

Max was usually so careful, so cautious. He couldn't believe he'd almost
done something that amazingly stupid. This thing with Liz had him totally
messed up. All he could think about was her. He couldn't stop wondering
what was going on in her head. 

Liz wiped the inside of her mouth with the swab. Max pulled a chipped
glass slide out of the little wooden box and handed it to her. She ran the
swab over the glass, then Max dropped a thin plastic slide cover on top of
the cell sample she'd deposited. 

At least we can still do this, he thought. They had always been a perfect
match as lab partners. 

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Saturday," Liz said. She
slipped the side under the microscope's metal clips, then peered into the
eyepiece, checking the focus. 

Yeah, Liz definitely doesn't back away from things, Max thought.
Pretending nothing had happened might have been easier, but it just wasn't
her. 

"Telling me the truth must have been so hard, and then I totally flipped
out on you," Liz continued. "I didn't even thank you for saving my life."
She used the knob on the side of the microscope to make a few minor
adjustments, then looked up at Max. Her gaze was direct and steady, but
Max saw a tiny muscle in her eyelid jump. 

It's taking everything she has to do this, he thought. She can't even look
at me anymore without it being this huge effort. 

"I don't know what to say. 'I'm sorry' sounds so lame. But I'm really
sorry," she told him. "And thanks... thanks for saving my life." 

"You're welcome." Max turned away and checked the lab book. "We're
supposed to do a sketch and label the organelles." He pulled out a sheet
of paper and pushed it toward Liz. "You'd better do the drawing. We both
know I can't even draw stick figures." 

Liz looked into the eyepiece again. She picked up a pencil and drew a big
circle, still studying the slide. 

"Start with the Golgi apparatus," Max suggested. "Do you see it? It's
supposed to look like a stack of deflated balloons." 

Liz shifted position, and a lock of her dark hair tumbled over her
shoulder and fell across the drawing. Max started to brush it back -- and
she jerked away. 

She bent down and fiddled with her shoe. "I... I tripped," she stammered.
"The heel on this shoe always wobbles. I keep forgetting to take it to the
shoe repair." The yellow streaks in her aura widened until they almost
blotted out the amber. 

Max knew she was lying. She didn't stumble. She jerked away from him
because she couldn't stand for him to touch even a strand of her hair. 

We can both try to act normal, Max thought. We can both say the right
things. But it's never going to be the same between us again. Liz is
afraid of me. 

*** 6 *** 

"So what kind of mood is el jefe in today?" Liz asked Stan, the cook on
duty at the Crashdown Cafe. 

Stan grabbed a spatula in each hand and flipped two burgers in perfect
unison. "The boss man has been listening to the Dead all day," he
answered. 

"Cool." Liz and everyone else at the Crashdown could tell how Mr. Ortecho
was feeling by what kind of CDs he played. You couldn't get better than
the Grateful Dead on her father's musical mood scale. 

Liz hurried into his office. She couldn't help smiling at the sight of her
papa's compact beer belly pushing against his tie-dyed T-shirt. 

"I think for your birthday I'm going to have to replace that shirt with a
bigger one. You know, eating Cherry Garcia ice cream isn't the only way of
expressing your love for Jerry," she teased. 

"Not the only, just the best," Papa answered. "And don't even think about
replacing this shirt. I bought it at the concert where you were conceived.
Uncle John's Band was -- " 

Liz slapped her hands over her ears. "I don't want to hear any more, thank
you." She did not need the details of her parents' sex life. 

Her father laughed. "What are you doing here, anyway? You're not working
today." 

Liz lowered her hands. "I have to talk to you about something important." 

His expression turned serious. "Is it something with school?" 

"No, it's nothing with school." Liz sighed. "Why do you always think it's
something with school? It's never anything about school, all right?" 

Sometimes Liz felt like throwing back her head and screaming, "I am not
Rosa." Because that's what this whole thing was about. It was about Rosa.
She'd been dead almost five years, but in so many ways she was still the
most important member of Liz's family. She was there in the things they
said to one another and in the things they never said. 

Liz knew exactly why her father was always on her case about school. The
year before Rosa died, her grades started slipping. Liz's parents got Rosa
a tutor and stuff, but they didn't realize that the grades were only a
tiny part of the trouble Rosa was in. 

Liz glanced over at Papa. He stared down at some invoices on his desk, but
his eyes were blank. Liz knew that expression so well. He was doing it
again. Wondering what if. What if he had paid more attention. What if he
had put Rosa in private school. What if he'd read more about teenagers and
drugs. What if, what if, what if. 

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to be valedictorian," Liz said, trying to pull
her papa out of his dark thoughts. "You'd better start thinking about what
to wear to my graduation because everyone is going to be looking at you
and Mama, parents of the girl making the brilliant speech." 

"Make sure you mention the cafe," Papa said. He shoved the papers away and
looked up at Liz. "If it's not about school, what is this something
important?" 

"It's our uniforms. The seventies Star Trek rip-offs we wear have a
certain kind of cool retro thing going, but Maria and I would really like
to move into the future." Liz held up a photo of Tommy Lee Jones and Will
Smith in their Men in Black suits and shades. "We were thinking something
like this." 

Mr. Ortecho shook his head. "You want me to spend money on new uniforms
when there is absolutely nothing wrong with the old ones? That's not good
business, Liz." 

Liz pouted for a second. Then she went in for the kill. "Oh, well. The
guys do seem to like looking at us in those short skirts. Our tips would
probably go down if we switched to the suits." 

"Wait, who is looking?" Papa demanded. "Who, exactly?" 

Mrs. Ortecho opened the office door and inched her way in, a huge baking
sheet balanced in her hands. Flour dotted her baggy overalls and her short
brown hair. "I just brought over my latest creation, and I had to show it
off," she told them. 

Ignoring her papa's frown, Liz grabbed one side of the baking sheet and
helped her mother lower it to the desk. She gave a snort of laughter as
she studied the cake. "An alien riding a horse?" 

Mrs. Ortecho shrugged. "It's for Benji Sanderson's birthday. He loves
cowboys, and this is Roswell." 

"At least you didn't have to do another spaceship," Mr. Ortecho said. 

Liz's mama loved coming up with new designs for her cakes and wanted
challenges from her customers. But she kept getting orders for spaceships
and aliens, aliens and spaceships. 

Mrs. Ortecho had to settle for creating her own masterpieces for the
birthdays of each of Liz's billion relatives. She'd made an amazing 3-D
cake portrait of Abuelita's favorite dog, and everyone had been blown away
by the Dracula cake she came up with for cousin Nina's eighth birthday.
She molded a coffin out of chocolate and put a strawberry-jam-filled
vampire cake inside. 

Stan popped his head into the office. "Liz, you're not going to believe
who is out front to see you -- Elsevan DuPris." 

Liz's heart jumped to her throat, but she tried to keep calm in front of
her parents. 

This was not good. Elsevan DuPris published the Astral Projector,
Roswell's answer to the National Enquirer. Every story in the Projector
had something to do with aliens. It was a pretty big coincidence that
DuPris wanted to talk to Liz two days after she got absolute proof that
aliens exist. A big, scary coincidence. 

"You coming?" Stan asked. 

"Yeah. I'm interviewing DuPris for a paper I'm writing," she lied to her
parents. Then she slipped past Stan and headed for the front of the cafe. 

"Get me some costs on those new uniforms," Mr. Ortecho called after her. 

It was easy to spot DuPris lounging against the counter. If he's not here
to ask me to be his personal shopper, he should be, Liz thought. He was
wearing a rumpled white suit with a lime green shirt, a white Panama hat,
and white lace-up shoes, and he carried a walking stick with an ivory
handle. His blond hair was slicked back with a little too much gel, and
his smile was a little too oily. 

Liz felt herself relax as she strolled over to him. Anyone who went out of
the house looking like that had to be a total buffoon. She could handle
DuPris, no problemo. "You wanted to see me?" she asked. 

"Yes, if you would be so kind as to spare me a moment. Could we sit?"
DuPris started toward a booth in the back without waiting for an answer. 

Liz followed him. "What can I do for you?" she asked as she slid into the
booth across from him. She figured a friendly,
I've-got-nothing-to-hide-here approach was the way to go, at least until
she found out what he knew. 

"I've been hearing some interesting things about you, young lady," DuPris
drawled. He sounded like a Scarlett O'Hara wanna-be. 

I could do a better accent, Liz thought. And I'm about as far from a
Southern belle as you can get. 

"What kind of interesting things?" she asked. She made sure to look DuPris
straight in the eye. She wondered if he wore colored contacts. His eyes
were almost as green as his shirt. 

"I heard that you almost died a couple of nights ago. I heard you got shot
-- and that a young man healed the wound simply by touching it," DuPris
said. 

He got the straight dope, Liz thought. Those two tourists must have
blabbed. She decided she needed to get a little creative. 

"It probably looked like that guy healed me. But that's not what
happened." Liz leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "See, the
uniforms we wear here are made of RosWool. That's wool made from sheep
that have grazed on the crash site. People say it has powers, and after
what happened to me, I believe it. I'd be dead if I had been wearing
polyester when I was shot." 

DuPris raised his eyebrows. "RosWool?" 

"Yeah. There's a company that will make anything you want out of the
stuff. I'm thinking of ordering a ski mask -- in case I get shot in the
head next time." 

DuPris was silent for a moment. 

"I like you, Ms. Ortecho," he finally said. "I'm a great admirer of a
lively sense of humor. Now would you like to tell me what really
happened?" 

"I just told you," Liz answered. "I think you should definitely write a
story about RosWool for your paper. It's something people should know
about. Maybe you could even get them to run an ad or something." 

"I'm still intrigued by the young man my sources mentioned." DuPris leaned
toward her, and Liz caught a whiff of his pine-scented aftershave. It made
the inside of her nose itch. 

"There was a guy who ran up to me," Liz admitted. "He might have put his
hand over the wound to stop the bleeding. But the wool was already
working. That's what healed me." 

She widened her eyes and tried to look innocent and stupid. DuPris stared
at her for a few seconds, then sighed. 

"Well, I thank you for setting the record straight." He stood up. "I must
say I'm relieved that the young man wasn't responsible for saving your
life." 

"What? Why?" Liz knew she shouldn't ask. It would have been smarter to let
DuPris walk away. But the questions just popped out of her mouth. 

DuPris grinned down at her. "You seem like such an intelligent person," he
said. "So tell me, if there were a young man who could heal with a touch,
isn't it logical to assume he could also kill with a touch?" DuPris asked.

Liz shook her head. "I'm not sure what you mean." 

DuPris eased back down into the seat across from her, his green eyes
intense. "Let's say a young man could manipulate the muscles and skin and
even the internal organs to close a bullet wound with a single touch of
his hand." 

Liz nodded, afraid to speak. 

"Well, if the young man could do that, couldn't he also do it in reverse?
Couldn't he open a hole in a person's heart or cause a rip to appear in
one of their lungs -- all with the same touch of his hand?" 

Liz could almost see the blood pumping through the hole in the heart and
the delicate lung tissue tearing open. She grimaced as the gruesome images
filled her mind. 

"I wouldn't like to think there was someone wandering around our town who
could kill so easily and with so little chance of being stopped," DuPris
finished. 

Standing up again, he tipped his hat at Liz and sauntered toward the door.

Liz rubbed her finger back and forth over the shiny silver tabletop after
he left. What DuPris said did make sense. Could Max kill someone just by
touching them? 

*** 

"We should all go shopping together for the homecoming dance." Stacey
Scheinin gave a little bounce on her toes. 

Stacey was always bouncing, or squealing, or giggling. She was like a
cheerleader out of some thirteen-year-old boy's fantasies. She made Isabel
want to puke. 

"I thought all of you could get dresses in the same color -- maybe
lavender," Stacey went on. "That way when I get elected homecoming queen,
all my attendants will be color coordinated. We are going to look totally
killer up on the stage together." 

"Is there some reason you think we are going to be your attendants?"
Isabel asked. 

"Oh, Izzy, don't worry," Stacey cooed. "You can come over tonight and I'll
do a makeover on you. I know I can pretty you up enough to be chosen as
part of my homecoming court." 

"No thanks." Isabel ran her eyes up and down Stacey. "I've seen your
work." 

"Go, girl," Tish Okabe murmured. 

The cheerleading squad was split between girls who wanted to be just like
Stacey and girls who thought Stacey was the love child of Jerry Springer
and Lassie. Isabel and Tish were definitely in the second group. 

"Let's get back to work." Stacey clapped. "We're going to do Alien Attack
until we get it perfect. Izzy, you were behind last time." 

"Yeah, me and everyone else but you," Isabel muttered as she moved into
place on the gym floor. 

"Ready, okay!" Stacey called. 

"Roswell aliens, causing a sensation," Isabel began. She caught a flash of
movement out of the corner of her eye. Alex Manes slipped through the gym
door. He leaned against the back wall, watching her. Just her. 

Isabel did a walkover and slid into a split as the cheer ended. She gave
Alex a wink, and a grin stretched across his face. That dream did it, she
thought. Alex's vote is in the bag. If anyone needs to buy a lavender
attendant's dress, it's Stacey. She pushed herself to her feet, her
sneakers squeaking against the polished wood floor. 

"Okay, everyone, next practice is Wednesday at three-thirty. Be on time,
please," Stacey called. 

She needs to get out more, Isabel thought. Being head cheerleader is the
best thing that's happened to her in her whole pathetic life. 

Isabel started toward the locker room. Alex hurried up before she reached
the door. 

"Hey," he said. He stuck his hands in his back pockets, took them out,
then shoved them back in again. 

He's nervous. How sweet, Isabel thought. "That's it?" she teased. "Just
'hey'? I thought guys were supposed to have some suave opening lines
memorized for situations like this." 

"That was it," Alex admitted. 

"Catchy." Isabel released her long blond hair from its ponytail and shook
it out. 

"Thought it up all by myself," he bragged. "But I have a backup. It's
total cheese. My older brother taught it to me. Want to hear it?" 

"Of course." Isabel ran her tongue over her bottom lip. That got Alex's
attention. Guys were so predictable. And they never realized when they
were being played. 

"Okay, pretend I'm a cop, you know, with a gun and badge and stuff," Alex
instructed. 

Isabel laughed. "I like this one already. Are you wearing handcuffs, too?"

"No way I told you this is my brother's line, and he's a classy guy. Okay,
get ready to melt." Alex cleared his throat loudly. "I'm going to have to
arrest you." 

Isabel batted her eyes. "But I haven't done anything wrong." 

"Uh, I'm afraid that's not true." A faint blush colored Alex's cheeks.
"It's clear you've stolen the stars from the sky -- I can see them in your
eyes." 

Isabel tried not to laugh, but the expression on Alex's face was just too
funny. He's not my type, she thought. But he's pretty damn adorable. I
wonder if he has freckles everywhere. 

"You liked that, huh?" Alex asked. 

"Yeah," Isabel admitted. She'd never bothered to talk to Alex before, even
though they had a bunch of classes together. But there was something about
that dream they shared that kept her standing there, smiling at him. 

"So, you want to go to the movies or something this weekend, now that I've
proved what a suave guy I am?" Alex asked. 

"No, but I'll go out with your brother," Isabel shot back. Enough was
enough. One interesting dream wasn't enough to make her lower her
standards. 

Alex suddenly appeared completely fascinated by the row of spirit posters
behind the bleachers. "Well, my brother did teach it to me," he mumbled.
"But I put some of my own refinements on it." 

"I've got to hit the showers," Isabel said. 

"Um, okay. I'll give your name to my brother." Alex turned around and
headed toward the big double doors at the far end of the gym. 

Isabel allowed herself a moment to enjoy the rear view, then started for
the locker room. Stacey fell in beside her. "New boyfriend, Izzy?" 

"Him? No. He's just a pathetic wanna-be," Isabel answered. "I always have
a few love slaves following me around with their tongues hanging on the
ground. I guess you don't have that problem, huh, Stace?" 

Isabel grinned as she strolled into the locker room. Life is good, she
thought. In a few days Stacey was going to be her attendant at the
homecoming dance. And Isabel had just acquired a new little boy toy to
play with. There was nothing more fun than a human with a crush. 

*** 7 *** 

Alex watched Liz and Maria flip through a row of dresses. He hoped they
would hurry it up. The tiny boutique was making him claustrophobic. The
racks were too close together, and the place smelled like it had been
wallpapered with those little perfume cards that came in the middle of
magazines. 

"You're not being much help, Alex. We brought you along to get a guy's
point of view. What kind of dress would get your attention?" Maria asked. 

"Oh, you know, short, tight, backless, low cut, maybe a couple of slits
somewhere," he answered. "Preferably worn braless with one of those thong
things." 

Liz whapped him on the head, and Alex grinned. He loved saying things he
knew would pull her chain. He'd never done the whole girls-as-friends
thing before he met Liz and Maria -- well, not since he was, like, seven.
It was pretty cool. 

And the fact that it bugged the Major was a bonus. Alex's dad wanted him
to spend his time starting up an ROTC program at school or at least
thinking about what branch of the military he wanted to join after grad.
Ever since his father had retired, he'd become obsessed with Alex's future
military career. The idea of Alex spending all afternoon playing fashion
consultant would make him go ballistic, not that Alex was planning on
telling him. 

One of the things he wasn't telling was that there was no possible way he
was going into the military. He used to hope one of his older brothers
would be a trailblazer for him and soften the old man up toward the idea
of having a civilian for a son. But his two oldest brothers had joined the
air force, just like Dad. And Jesse, his last hope, had just signed up
with the marines. The Major wasn't too happy about having a squid in the
family, but he had finally switched over from shouting to muttering. 

"How about this one?" Liz held up a silky dark blue dress with thin little
straps. It looked sort of like a nightgown or something. "That's a
definite ten on the man-o-meter," Alex said. 

"Whatever this man-o-meter is, don't show it to me," Maria mumbled. 

Alex ignored her. He was imagining that silky stuff under his fingers. The
material was so thin, he'd be able to feel the warmth of Isabel's skin
through the cloth. Isabel. Oh, man. He was doing it again. He had given
himself strict orders not to think about Isabel, but she kept popping into
his head. 

Forget about her, he told himself. Remember what she called you -- a
pathetic wanna-be. She didn't even bother to wait for you to get all the
way out of the gym before she started making fun of you with Stacey. 

But there was something about Isabel, something about the way she looked
at him while they were talking.... There was an attraction between them, a
connection. Alex couldn't believe she was quite as cold as she seemed. If
they could just get away from her little cheerleader clique and all their
crap, he had a feeling something could develop between them. 

"So are you going to try it on?" Maria asked Liz. 

Liz checked the price tag and grimaced. She showed it to Maria. "I think
we're in the wrong store." 

"Let's try the Clothes Barn," Maria suggested. 

Alex led the way out of the store. He took a deep breath of the
nonperfumed air. The smells of the mall's food court filled his nose --
chocolate cookies mixing with chow mein, tacos, and fries. Much better. 

"You know, we've been sort of selfish," Maria said to Liz. "Alex is going
to the dance, too. He might need us to help him with a little shopping.
I'm seeing a collarless shirt and -- " 

"Don't even think about it," Alex warned them. "I'm not a Just My Size Ken
doll." 

"Alex, you're seventeen years old. It's time to explore fabrics beyond
flannel and denim," Liz put in. 

"I wear other stuff. I wear cotton. And... what sweatpants are made of --
I wear that." 

Maria grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him down the walkway.
"Macy's is right over there, just waiting for you." 

Alex spotted Michael Guerin and Max Evans heading toward them. "Guys!" he
yelled in relief. "Hey, guys, you have to help me." He broke away from
Maria and hurried over to them. "The makeover mafia has me in their
clutches." 

"They do look pretty dangerous," Michael said as Liz and Maria joined the
group. 

"They're trying to use force to make me stop wearing flannel," Alex
complained. 

He expected Maria to jump in and try to get Max and Michael on her side.
But she'd suddenly gotten quiet. Liz, too. What was up with them? They
were never quiet. 

"Don't let them, man," Michael answered. "If they can't accept you as you
are, just walk away. Right, Max?" 

"Every American has the right to wear flannel," Max answered. He leaned
over the railing and stared into the fountain in the lower level. It was
obvious he didn't really feel like talking. 

Alex didn't know Max that well, but he'd always seemed like a cool guy.
Alex wouldn't mind asking him a couple of questions about Isabel,
something that would help him figure her out. 

Maybe her brother would know which Isabel was real -- the Isabel who had
flirted with Alex and acted like she was totally enjoying herself? Or the
Isabel who had cut him down behind his back? 

"What is it with chicks?" Michael asked. "They can have a guy who's crazy
about them, but that's not good enough. They have to get in there and
start changing things. Guys don't do that. Max, you like Liz just the way
she is, right?" 

There was a strange little silence. 

Liz shot Michael a look that said "back off" loud and clear. Alex frowned.
What was going on with everyone? Liz wasn't usually so touchy. 

"I mean, you'd never tell her what to wear," Michael amended, avoiding
Liz's eyes. 

"Liz looks good in everything" Max answered. He pushed himself away from
the rail and turned back to face the group. "You even looked cute in that
dress you hated, the goofy one with the cupcakes on it." 

"You remember that?" Liz cried. "I hated that dress so much, but my
abuelita gave it to me, so my parents were always making me wear it." 

"I don't remember it. What grade was that?" Maria asked. 

Liz thought about it a second. "Kindergarten. I remember Ms. Gliden let me
wear one of the finger-painting smocks when I had to wear the dress to
school. She was so nice. She..." Liz's voice trailed off. 

Maria was frowning. "But Max wasn't in your kindergarten class, was he?"
she asked. 

Liz turned to Max. "I have to talk to you alone. Right now." She strode
away from the group. Max hesitated a moment, then followed her. 

Another strange little silence. Maria had gone pale. 

"All righty, then," Alex muttered. 

"I have to buy some nail polish," Maria blurted. "I'll meet you at the
food court." She rushed toward the escalator. 

Alex looked at Michael and shrugged. "You want to get some food?" he
asked. 

"I can always eat," Michael answered. 

Liz and Maria must have popped a few psycho pills when I wasn't looking,
Alex thought as he and Michael headed down the walkway. I hope they wear
off fast. 

*** 

"Don't even think about it," Isabel snarled at the perfume sample guy
before he could spray her. She usually avoided this entrance to Macy's. It
was like trying to maneuver through a minefield of perfume bombs. The
smell of all the scents -- flowery, spicy, fruity, powdery -- made her
stomach turn over. 

"Hey, he was kind of a cutie," Tish protested. 

Isabel glanced over her shoulder. "He's too bulky and bulgy. Look at those
veins popping out on his neck." 

"I thought you loved that muscle beach look." Tish held her wrist out to a
pale woman in a white smock, who delicately spritzed her with a floral
scent. 

"I must be maturing. Guys like that seem a little too obvious to me now,"
Isabel said. "Besides, who wants a guy who spends more hours in the gym
than he does with you?" 

Yeah, that's it, Isabel thought. It didn't have anything to do with the
memory of the way Alex's lean body felt pressed up against hers in their
dream dance. 

"I like it," Tish said. "I still say he's cute." 

"You think everyone is cute," Isabel shot back. 

"Pretty much everyone has something cute about them, even if it's just one
little thing," Tish insisted. "Like that guy by the glove counter. Bad
clothes, bad hair, bad skin -- " 

"Bad personal hygiene," Isabel cut in. 

"But look at his mouth." Tish grabbed Isabel's chin and turned her head
toward the guy. "Look at those big, cushy lips. Yum." 

"Okay, what about him?" Isabel jerked her head toward a pudgy guy who
would probably be calling the Hair Club for Men about a year after grad. 

"How can you even ask?" Tish exclaimed. "Look at his butt. Pure Charmin.
Don't you just want to squeeze it?" 

"Uh, not really," Isabel answered. She scanned the crowd, then smiled.
"Okay, I've got a tough one for you -- over there by the Lancome counter."

Tish glanced over and started making gagging noises. "It's the Anticute.
Let's get out of here. We see Stacey way too much at school." 

"I want to talk to her," Isabel said. 

"Is-a-bel." Tish said her name in a long whine. 

"Come on." Isabel sauntered toward Stacey. She didn't bother to check and
see if Tish was following her. Tish always followed Isabel. 

"Hey, Stacey, looking for a lipstick to go with your lavender dress?"
Isabel asked. 

Stacey whirled toward them. 

Tish gasped. "What happened to your face?" she exclaimed. 

"I had this horrible dream, and I kept scratching myself in my sleep,"
Stacey admitted. She ran her fingers over one of the long red scratches
covering her face. 

I don't think I've ever seen Stacey when she's not bouncing or giggling or
something, Isabel thought. Stacey was nauseatingly, unrelentingly bubbly.
Even in classes she was constantly doodling little hearts, stars, and
rainbows on the cover of her notebook. 

"That's terrible. Do they hurt?" Tish asked. 

Oh, please, Isabel thought. If Tish found a hurt rattlesnake on the
sidewalk, she'd probably take it home, nurse it back to health, tie a bow
around its neck, and then be surprised when it bit her. She should go out
with Max. They'd make a perfect couple. 

"They don't really hurt, but they look so gross. I'm trying to find
something to cover them up." Stacey studied the foundations and powders in
the case in front of her. 

"What was your dream about, anyway?" Tish said. 

"Oh, it was gross!" Stacey rubbed her face with both hands. "There were
all these bugs crawling on me. I could feel all their little legs. I kept
scratching and scratching, but I couldn't get them off." 

Isabel gave a loud gasp. She opened her eyes wide. "This is so weird. I
had exactly the same dream last night!" 

*** 

"What's up?" Max asked as he trotted after Liz. 

Liz didn't answer. She turned down a short hallway with a pay phone, a
drinking fountain, and one bench. No one would bother them here. 

She spun around and glared at Max. "How did you know about my cupcake
dress?" she demanded. "Can you read minds? Is that one of your powers? If
it is, you have got to find a way to turn it off because it's an
incredible invasion of privacy." 

Liz didn't even want to think about what Max could have seen in her head.
All the embarrassing little things she'd never told anyone, not even
Maria. The silly daydreams she let herself slide into when one of her
teachers got so boring, she wanted to scream. The mean little thoughts she
had about people sometimes. 

But most of all she was afraid that Max had seen all the horrible things
she'd thought when he told her he was an alien. Liz was ashamed of the mix
of revulsion and fear that flooded her in that moment. If she'd felt those
kinds of emotions directed at her, she'd be devastated. 

"I can't read minds. At least not usually," Max told her. "But when I heal
someone, I make a connection with them. I get this rush of images, so fast
I can hardly take them all in. And somehow I just know things. Not
thoughts, exactly. But like that dress -- an image of it flashed into my
mind, and I knew how you felt about it." 

Liz folded her arms over her chest. "What else did you see besides the
dress?" 

"Um... I saw a stuffed dog with a chewed-up ear," Max said. 

"Oh, Mr. Beans. He lives on my bed." Liz started to feel a little better.
If Mr. Beans and the cupcake dress were the worst things Max saw, that
wasn't so bad. 

"Liz Ortecho sleeping with a stuffed animal. That's hard to picture." Max
laughed. "You're always so intense and focused." 

"I don't actually sleep with him," Liz corrected. "At night I put him on
my dresser." 

Max raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he teased. 

"Okay, every once in a while, like when I'm sick or something, I still
sleep with him," Liz admitted, blushing. "But you already knew that,
didn't you?" 

"Lucky guess. You sounded just a little defensive when you said you put
him on your dresser," Max explained. "It really bothers you that I got
images from your mind, doesn't it?" 

Liz looked down at her boots. Even though Max had only seen stupid little
things from her childhood, it did bother her. What if he were just being
polite, telling her the stuff that wasn't important? What if he really had
seen everything, like how angry she felt at her sister for dying? He would
think she was a horrible person -- and she couldn't bear that. 

Max wouldn't lie to me, she told herself. If he says he only saw the ugly
cupcake dress, then he means it. 

"Maybe I overreacted," Liz said slowly. "It's not like you were
intentionally spying on me. But, well, how would you feel if I knew all
your secrets?" 

Max stared at her as if she were an idiot. And suddenly Liz felt her face
flush. How could she have said that? She did know Max's biggest secret,
something much more intimate and personal than anything he knew about her.

Max sat down on the little bench. He patted the spot next to him. "Come
on, I want to try something." 

"O-kaay." Liz wished that hadn't come out sounding so apprehensive. Why
couldn't she remember how to act around Max anymore? 

She sat next to him. Her shoulder brushed against his. She wanted to move
back, but she held herself perfectly still. If she kept jumping away from
him, Max might think she was afraid of him or something. 

And I'm not, she thought. Not much. 

She wanted to feel completely comfortable around Max, the way she used to.
But it was like there was a loop in her head playing the words he's an
alien, he's an alien over and over. 

"I've never tried this before, but I thought maybe I could make the
connection go the other way," Max told her. "So that you could invade my
privacy and get some images from me." 

Liz blinked in surprise. What would it be like to see into Max's thoughts?
I'd probably be the first human to ever see into the mind of an alien, she
thought. The scientist in her was totally excited by the opportunity. But
it wouldn't be fair to Max. 

"You don't have to do that, Max," Liz said softly. "I was being a jerk
about the whole thing. You saved my life -- I should be down on my knees
thanking you, no matter what your method was." 

"No, we have to try dais," Max insisted. "Think of it as an experiment. Or
as a free movie -- the Max Evans Show." 

He sounded like a little kid trying to convince his baby-sitter to let him
stay up until eleven. He's trying so hard to make me feel okay about
what's happened, Liz thought. Why can't I do that for him? 

"I have to touch you, okay?" Max asked. "That's how I make the
connection." 

If he can heal with a touch, can he kill with a touch? The question leaped
into Liz's mind. Without thinking, she backed away from Max on the bench. 

Instantly his blue eyes grew darker, as if a thick black curtain had
fallen over his emotions. 

"Never mind," he said quickly. "It was a stupid idea. Why would you want
to be connected to me?" 

Max started to stand up, but Liz grabbed his arm. She couldn't let him
feel this way, feel as if she were disgusted by him. 

"I want to do it. Really," Liz told him. 

Max sat back down, smiling. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her
ears, then gently cupped her face with his hands. Liz felt a shiver rush
through her body. And it didn't feel quite like a frightened shiver. 

Max leaned close, so his face was inches from her own. His gaze drifted to
her lips, and for one long, shocking moment she thought he was going to
kiss her. Instead he began to speak, his voice low and soothing. "Now take
deep breaths, and try to let your mind blank out." 

Her heart was beating so hard, she could hardly breathe at all. Liz
concentrated on pulling in a long, deep breath, then she let it out. 

Max matched each of his breaths to hers. She could feel the warm puffs of
air on her face each time he exhaled, and the smell of his wintergreen
Life Saver filled her nose. 

She'd never seen such intense blue as his eyes. It was almost like looking
through a deep, deep pool.... 

Liz realized she was leaning toward him, wanting to be closer, wanting to
see through those amazing eyes.... 

She closed her eyes, but she could still feel his eyes on hers. She tried
to focus all her attention on her breathing. If thoughts began to intrude,
she imagined them drifting away, soundless and weightless. 

She heard her heartbeat slow as her relaxation grew deeper and deeper.
Slowly she became aware of a second heartbeat. Max's heartbeat. It was
like they shared one body now. 

An image appeared against the dark screen of her eyelids. A child with
bright eyes ripping free of something that looked like a cocoon. Another
image quickly replaced the first. A Mr. Wizard junior chemistry set. The
images came faster and faster. A sky filled with acid green clouds. A bowl
with two turtles sunning themselves. A pair of almond-shaped eyes without
whites or irises, just pure black. 

Then Liz in the elementary school library, her dark brown braids touching
the page of her book. Liz, a little older, swinging at a baseball. Liz
standing proudly in front of her ninth-grade science fair project. Liz
dressed up for the junior prom. Liz smiling, frowning, giggling, crying.
Liz lying on the floor of the cafe. Liz staring at Max with an expression
of horror on her face. 

Liz opened her eyes and found her gaze locked with Max's. She reached up
and slid his hands away from her face. She pressed her fingers together to
keep them from trembling. 

"Did it work?" he asked. "Did you see anything?" 

Liz nodded, not trusting her voice. She'd seen everything. She knew
everything. 

Max was in love with her. He had always been in love with her. 

*** 8 *** 

Liz read the question for the third time. "What were the benefits of the
gold standard?" 

I did study for this test, she thought. I looked at my notes and reread
the key parts of the chapters. So why do I have no memory of what the gold
standard even is? 

Liz skipped down to the multiple-choice section and sighed. A, B, C, and D
all sounded like reasonable choices. But even E, none of the above, was a
possibility. 

Where was her head? Yeah, like I haven't had any distractions lately, she
thought. I only almost died. And then found out a guy I've known half my
life is an alien. And then found out that this alien guy loves me. 

Max Evans loved her. Liz was still trying to wrap her mind around that. 

She glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes left. Maybe she should flip
a coin -- if she could figure out how to flip a coin for multiple-choice
questions. Maybe heads on the desk -- A, tails on the desk -- B, heads on
the floor -- 

Liz felt a tap on her shoulder. "The principal needs to see you right
away," Mr. Beck said softly. "Take your things." 

Liz grabbed her backpack. She knew everyone was staring at her as she made
her way to the door. They were probably all trying to figure out why honor
student Liz Ortecho was getting called to the principal's office. 

Why would Ms. Shaffer call her out of class? she wondered as she hurried
down the hall. It had to be something big. She swung open the office door
-- and saw Sheriff Valenti lounging against the long counter that divided
the room. His mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes, and his face was
expressionless as usual. 

"Sheriff Valenti needs to ask you a few questions," Ms. Shaffer said. 

Liz jumped. She hadn't even realized the principal was there. The second
Liz entered the room, her eyes had locked on Valenti. 

"Let's go." Valenti pushed himself away from the counter and headed out
the door. He didn't say a word as Liz followed him down the hall, out the
main doors, and over to the parking lot. He didn't say a word as he opened
the back door of his car for Liz or as he slid behind the wheel and
started to drive. 

Liz stared at the back of Valenti's head through the metal grill
separating the front and back seats. She knew he was playing some
intimidation game with her -- and it was working. He was freaking her out.
Had he found out what really happened at the cafe? Did he know Max healed
her? Did he know everything? 

Make him tell you what he knows, Liz coached herself. Don't volunteer
anything. Don't start talking just to fill the silence. That's exactly
what he wants. She leaned her head against the seat, trying for a bored
expression. She felt as if any word she said, any tiny gesture she made,
could put Max in danger. 

The air in the car smelled like cigarettes, and plastic, and sweat, and
something medicinal. She wanted to crack the window, but she doubted that
windows in police cars rolled down. 

Valenti pulled into the parking lot of a small mustard yellow building
near the edge of town. He got out of the car and closed the door with a
quiet click. Liz almost wished he'd slammed it. At least then he'd seem
human. Instead he was an ice man, totally in control. She knew she
couldn't play him the way she had Elsevan DuPris. 

He opened her door and started across the parking lot. Liz scrambled out
and caught up with him. She lengthened her stride until it matched his.
They walked across the parking lot and through the building's glass double
doors side by side. She wasn't going to walk three paces behind him like a
pathetic little puppy dog. 

As they walked down a long hallway covered with ugly specked linoleum Liz
tried to remember every detail of the story she told him at the cafe. She
needed to be able to repeat it back to him today without slipping up. 

Valenti stopped abruptly and swung open a door on the left. He stood back
and let Liz enter the room first, then closed the door behind them. 

Liz couldn't stop herself from giving a tiny gasp as she stared around the
windowless room. A morgue. She was standing in a morgue. Liz had seen way
too many cop shows not to recognize the stacked rows of metal drawers
along one wall. 

Oh, God. This wasn't about Max. She was here to identify a body. Who? her
mind screamed. Who is it? 

Valenti brushed past her and strode along the wall. He grabbed the handle
of one of the drawers and slid it open. The sound of the tiny metal wheels
rolling in their tracks sent a chill through Liz. 

"I want you to see this," Valenti said, his voice calm and cool. 

There was a body stretched out on the cold metal of the drawer. A plastic
sheet covered it from head to toe, but Liz knew if she walked over there,
Valenti would pull back that sheet, and she would have to look. She didn't
want to. She didn't. If she looked, it would be real. It would be someone
she knew. 

Tears filled her eyes. When Rosa died, Liz had never seen her body. She
could never bring herself to look, even to say good-bye. Now she had no
choice. Whose body was this? Why wouldn't Valenti just tell her what had
happened? 

Who is it? Liz's feet moved toward the drawer. Papa? Mama? She couldn't
stop herself from going over there. She couldn't stop herself from looking
down at the body She couldn't see much through the plastic, but she could
tell that the corpse wasn't anyone she knew. 

White-hot fury ripped through her. She whirled toward Valenti. "How could
you do that to me? You let me think that..." She couldn't finish. If she
said one more word, she knew she would start crying. And she wasn't going
to give Valenti the satisfaction. 

Valenti didn't answer. He took the top of the plastic sheet in both hands
and pulled it halfway down. "What do you make of the marks on this man?"
He sounded as if he were just making casual conversation, as if he had no
idea he'd just put her through the most terrifying moments of her life. 

Or as if he didn't care. 

Liz stared at Valenti. She saw her own face staring back at her from the
mirrored lenses of his shades. She felt as if she had fallen into some
strange dream. Nothing made sense. Valenti was asking her to help him
study a stranger's corpse? Why? 

"The marks," Valenti repeated. 

I have to do this, she thought. It's the only way I'm going to get out of
here. She slowly lowered her eyes to the corpse. The first thing she saw
was two handprints on the man's chest -- iridescent silver handprints. She
knew that if she placed Max's hands over those marks, they would be an
exact match. 

If he can heal with a touch, can he kill with a touch? 

I guess I have the answer to that question, she thought. Sour bile rose in
her throat. 

"I... I've never seen anything like them before," Liz stammered. She
needed time to think, time to figure out what to do. Maybe Max had a good
reason for killing this guy. Maybe the guy was attacking him or something.

She forced herself to look at the corpse's face. The man looked about her
father's age. His brown eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling. His lips were
frozen in a grimace of pain. 

Liz gagged. How could there be a good reason for killing this man? For
killing anyone? 

"That's interesting," Valenti said. "Because my son, Kyle, mentioned that
he had seen similar marks on your stomach." 

"He was wrong. It was just a temporary tattoo." She ripped her shirt out
of her jeans and held it up. "See. No marks." She smoothed the shirt back
over her stomach. 

The handprints had been fading a little at a time. If Valenti had brought
her in one day earlier, she wouldn't have been able to back up her story. 

"Can we go now?" Liz asked. It came out sounding a little too much like a
plea, but she couldn't help it. 

Valenti ignored her. "I've seen marks like this before," he said. "They
are made by the touch of a particular race of alien beings." 

Liz's mouth dropped open. "You believe in aliens?" 

What had happened to her nice, orderly world? The world ruled by the
periodic chart? A week ago the only people who believed in aliens were
tourists. Suckers who would go gaga over a photo of a melted doll. Now she
had absolute proof that aliens existed. And the sheriff -- Mr. Ice Man --
was telling her he believed in them, too. 

Valenti reached up and slid off his sunglasses. He shouldn't have
bothered, Liz thought. His eyes were a cold gray that revealed nothing of
what he was think -- 

"I am going to tell you something that I have never told a civilian -- not
even my own son," Valenti said. "But you're a smart girl, and you can help
me. I am an agent for an organization called Project Clean Slate. Our
purpose is to track down alien beings living in the United States and make
sure that they pose no threat to the human population." 

Liz gazed at him, trying to ignore the emotions rushing through her. Max
killed someone, Max is an alien, Max is dangerous. Max loves me. 

"This organization was formed in 1947, the year of the crash. That was the
year we realized that aliens exist, aliens with the technology to travel
to another galaxy." 

"But everyone knows that UFO was a downed weather balloon," Liz said
weakly. 

"Don't play games with me, Ms. Ortecho," Valenti answered. "I know you've
had contact with an alien. I suspect this alien somehow survived the 1947
crash, perhaps as a child who was still incubating. And I want to know
what you are going to do about it." 

Liz shook her head. "I don't know what you -- " 

"The alien who healed your gunshot wound killed this man," Valenti
interrupted. 

"I wasn't shot. I fell. I broke a bottle of ketchup." I wish that story
were true, Liz thought. I wish I could go back to living in the safe
little world where I knew all the rules, and there were no real surprises.

"That alien will kill again," Valenti continued. "Can you live with that?
I saw your face when you thought it was someone you loved lying under this
sheet. If you continue to protect the alien, one day soon someone will be
standing right where you are, identifying the body of his mother, his
father, his sister, or even his child. 

"You can stop that from happening. All you have to do is tell me where to
find the alien." 

Liz took a deep breath. Then she pulled the sheet up so that it covered
the dead man's face. 

"I don't believe in aliens," she said. 

*** 9 *** 

Liz stood in the parking lot and stared at the school. She felt as if
she'd been picked up by a tornado, viciously whipped around, and then set
back down in exactly the same place she started. 

She couldn't believe it was only lunchtime. Less than two hours ago she'd
been worried about a history test. She started for the quad, then made a
sharp right and headed for the main building. She needed a quiet place
where she could sit down by herself and think. Think about what she was
going to do. 

Keeping Max's secret was probably saving his life. But if Max was killing
people... Those words just didn't go together -- Max and killing -- but
Liz forced herself to continue the thought. If Max was killing people, Liz
had to do whatever it took to stop him. Which meant turning him in to
Valenti. 

Liz pushed her way through the double doors and started up the stairs.
She'd go to the bio lab. Maybe it would help her think precisely and
dispassionately, like a scientist. Whatever decision she made could have
life-threatening consequences. 

As Liz approached the lab she heard someone moving around inside. Damn.
She really needed to be alone right now. Who had discovered her favorite
place to escape? She peeked inside. 

Max was sitting on one of the high stools at their lab station. 

Liz stepped back and leaned against the wall. Maria would probably call
this a sign from the universe, she thought. But what does it mean? 

She so wanted to believe that she could trust Max. But he had been keeping
a secret from her all the years that she'd known him. A huge secret. And
she'd never suspected. 

What if he was still hiding things from her? What if everything he told
her at his house was lies -- just different lies? What if humans were like
lumps of meat to him? What if killing a human was like eating a hamburger
or something? 

"Everything's going to be all right," she heard Max say softly. 

Wait. Did he know she was out there? Had he lied about being able to read
her mind? 

"I know you're not feeling well, but I'm going to fix you up." 

Maybe there was someone in the room with him and she didn't notice. 

Liz edged up to the door again. She saw Max crouching next to the mouse
cage. He opened the cage door and gently took out Fred, the little white
mouse. "You're going to be just fine," he murmured soothingly. 

He brought his cupped hands to his chest and cradled the mouse against
him. Liz could see the shocking blue of Max's eyes from all the way across
the room. A moment later he returned Fred to his cage. The mouse jumped on
the exercise wheel with a squeak and started to run. 

Liz felt tears sting her eyes. That had to be one of the sweetest things
she'd ever seen. And Max didn't know anyone was watching. He wasn't trying
to fool anyone. He wasn't trying to trick Liz into keeping his secret --
he didn't even know she was there. 

He put himself in danger when he healed me, Liz reminded herself. He could
have let me die. But that wouldn't be Max. That wouldn't be the sweet,
wonderful guy who had been her friend since the third grade. 

There was no way Max was a killer. No possible way. 

*** 

Max closed the cage door and latched it. "No need to thank me," he told
Fred. "I'll send you a bill." 

He heard a soft scuffling sound behind him and turned to see Liz standing
in the doorway. Her aura was rimmed with gray. He could practically feel
waves of cold coming off it. Something was very wrong. 

"What happened?" Max asked. 

"I need to talk to you, but not here," Liz said. 

"I have my car," Max answered. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah. Let's just go. The bell is going to ring soon." 

Max grabbed his backpack and led the way out to his car. "Do you want to
hit the doughnut place?" he asked as they climbed in. "That's where
Michael always goes when he can't handle class." 

Liz's face paled a little. "No. I don't want to go anywhere that I can
ever; smell food." 

"Okay, then." Max pulled out of the parking lot. "We can go to the bird
sanctuary. Bitter Lakes is only about twenty minutes away. I've been there
with my dad. He keeps saying he was a bird in a previous life." 

Max wanted to ask Liz about a million questions on the way there, but it
was obvious she was too flipped out to talk. 

When they arrived, he reached across Liz and popped open the glove
compartment. He rummaged around until he found a package of stale
saltines. "These are so old, they don't really qualify as food anymore. We
can feed the ducks while you tell me... whatever it is you have to tell
me." Max always found it easier to talk if he had something to do at the
same time. 

Liz took the crackers and climbed out of the car. Max followed her over to
the edge of the pond. "So," he said. 

"So," she repeated. "So, Max, I found out something really important.
Something you need to know. I've been trying to think of some good way to
break it to you, but there is no good way." 

She threw a cracker into the pond, and three ducks started a fight over
it, quacking and flapping. "Sheriff Valenti is part of an organization
called Project Clean Slate, which tracks down aliens. I don't know exactly
what he does when he finds them, but he thinks aliens are a threat to
humans, so whatever he does can't be good." 

Liz took a deep breath and finally met Max's gaze. 

Max felt as though she'd just shot him. He dropped down in the damp dirt
near the edge of the pond. His legs felt weak and boneless. Max, Isabel,
and Michael had spent hours talking about them, about what they would do
if they ever discovered the aliens. But it felt a lot different now that
the vague they was a real organization, with a real name. And that one of
them was very close to finding Max, his sister, and his best friend. 

Liz sat down next to him. "Are you all right?" 

"Does Valenti know the truth about me?" Max asked in a strangled voice. 

"No. Kyle told him about the silver marks on my stomach. Valenti says he
knows they were made by an alien. But I didn't tell him anything," Liz
answered. 

Kyle saw Liz's stomach? Max felt a stab of jealousy. He told himself to
get over it. Now was definitely not the time. 

"There's more. Valenti brought me down to the morgue. He showed me a man's
body with the same silver marks on its chest. He said... he said the same
alien who healed me killed the man." 

"I didn't -- ," Max began. 

Liz ran her hand lightly down his arm. Max could feel her touch all the
way down to his bones. "I know you didn't do it, Max," she said. "I know
you could never kill anyone." 

There was no trace of deceit in her aura. She meant what she said
absolutely. She knew the truth about him, the truth he thought he could
never reveal to any human, and she still trusted him. 

Suddenly the rest of what Liz had said hit him. "Valenti took you to the
morgue? That's so sadistic. If he did that to me, I would have been sure
one of my parents had gotten killed or something." 

"That's exactly what I did think. It's what he wanted me to think," Liz
said. "I guess he figured I'd break down and tell him everything." 

Max still couldn't believe she hadn't broken down. "That man he showed you
has to be the guy I tried to heal at the mall. He had a heart attack. I
tried to save him -- I was making it look like CPR -- but I was too late."

Liz nodded. "The handprints looked the same size as yours." 

"How did you know... how did you know I didn't kill him?" With all that
evidence, how could she still have believed in him? Max thought he would
only find that kind of trust and loyalty from Isabel and Michael. He never
imagined it could come from an outsider. 

Liz met his gaze, and he thought he saw tears shining in her eyes. "I
wasn't sure," she admitted. "I... I thought you might have done it. I'm
sorry, Max. So much has happened so fast. I'm really sorry." 

"It's okay. It's okay." Max wanted to wrap her in his arms and comfort
her. But he wasn't sure it would be comfort. Just because she didn't think
he was a killer didn't mean she wanted him touching her. 

"What convinced you?" he asked. 

Liz gave a snort of laughter. "A mouse. I saw you heal Fred in the lab.
And I realized that someone who cared so much about a little mouse life
could never be a murderer." 

Her expression turned serious. "I shouldn't have needed the mouse as
proof, Max. I've seen you do hundreds of kind, good things over the years.
You always know when someone is hurting, and you always try to help.
You're the best guy I know. Really." 

Max felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart.
He'd never guessed Liz gave him a thought when they weren't working on one
of their lab experiments. But she had noticed things about him, and she
cared about him. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. 

He grabbed a handful of crackers and threw them into the pond. He didn't
know what to say. 

"Do you remember anything about the crash?" Liz asked. "I know I freaked
out when you tried to talk to me about it before, but I'd like to hear it
now if you want to tell me." 

"No. I wasn't even born yet -- that's probably why I survived. I was in
some kind of incubator when the ship went down." Max picked up a stick and
started poking a row of holes in the dirt. "The first memory I have is of
breaking out of the incubator pod and being in a big cave. I was about
seven years old -- well, that's how old the social services people thought
I was, anyway, even though I'd been in the pod for a long, long time." 

Liz picked up another stick and started drawing petals and stems on the
holes Max made, turning them into flowers. She shook her head. "You must
have been so scared. What happened to you? How did you make it out of the
desert all alone?" 

"I wasn't alone." Max hesitated. He'd spent so many years not talking
about this. He'd been the one who made Isabel and Michael swear they would
never say a single word about their past to anyone. But Liz had gone to
the mat for him, and she deserved the whole truth. Not just about him --
about all of them. 

"Isabel was with me -- we shared the pod," Max said. 

Liz nodded. "I wondered if she was, you know, because she's your sister." 

"We picked a direction and started walking. We lucked out. We ended up at
the highway just as Mr. and Mrs. Evans were driving back into town. They
picked us up and took us home, and we never left. 

"I don't know why they fought so hard to keep us. Two kids who couldn't
speak English, who couldn't speak any language. Kids who didn't know how
to use a toothbrush or a toilet. Kids who had been found wandering naked
along the highway." 

Max hurled his stick away. He hadn't thought about all this junk for so
long. 

"Our parents -- our adoptive parents -- were amazing," he continued. "They
took turns teaching us at home until we were ready to start at Roswell
Elementary." 

"You must have learned fast. In third grade you knew the answer to every
question the teacher asked. I still remember," Liz said. 

"You still remember because you're so competitive. You didn't like anyone
else getting points from Ms. Shapiro," Max teased. "But it's true. Isabel
and I were both pretty much able to absorb information immediately. When
our parents read us a book, we could always recite the whole thing back to
them after hearing it just once. I guess we have really good adaptive
skills. I think our systems, and our bodies, patterned themselves after
what they found here." 

"Wow." Liz shook her head. "I guess you don't have to spend much time on
homework." 

"Not really," Max admitted. "But my parents are always bringing home books
-- a lot of their law books, some medical books and stuff. They don't let
me slack off." 

He grinned, thinking of his dad's constant, good-natured nagging. What
would his life be like if the Evanses hadn't found him? 

It would be like Michael's life, he realized suddenly. Bouncing from
foster home to foster home, never feeling like you belonged. 

"Did you understand what you were?" Liz asked. "I mean, did either of you
know where you came from?" 

"No, at least not at first," Max said. 

"I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you," Liz said. "I
have this huge extended family right here in town. I know everything about
them -- and they know everything about me. And it doesn't stop there. At
bedtime my parents used to tell me stories about my ancestors." 

Liz stared out at the lake. "You know, in Spanish there are way more verb
forms you can use to talk about the past than the future. I guess that
shows how important the past is to my family." 

She turned to Max. "I wish I could give you some of my history. Then you
wouldn't feel so lonely on this... world." 

"It got easier when I started school," Max said. "Because I met Michael,
and we both realized pretty quickly that we were... alike." 

Liz's eyes widened. "Michael? He's a... one of... He's one, too?" 

"You can say it. A-li-en," Max answered. "I don't think there's a
politically correct term. We don't even know what planet we're from, so we
don't know what to call ourselves. And yeah, Michael is one, too." 

He frowned a little. He hadn't meant to tell her about Michael. But
somehow it just came out. He couldn't seem to keep any secrets from Liz. 

"Are there more of you? Is it like this whole underground community?" Liz
asked. 

Max scrubbed his face with his fingers. He knew it was normal for Liz to
have a lot of questions, but he was starting to feel like some kind of
freak. "Just the three of us. I think. We've never seen any indication
that there are others. 

"When we got older, we spent a lot of time talking, trying to remember
everything we possibly could. We all had these memories of another place,
a place like nothing we'd seen, even in books. I think they're shared
memories that people on my planet are born with -- you know, like humans
have inborn instincts." 

"I think I saw a few of them when you let me connect with you," Liz said.
"I saw a sky with acid green clouds." 

"Yeah, Michael and Isabel and I all have that memory, even though none of
us has ever seen anything like those clouds." 

Suddenly Max wondered what else Liz had seen during the connection. Did
she know how he felt about her? He hoped not. He'd already had too many
humiliating conversations with Liz. He never wanted to have the one where
she said she liked him as a friend. That would make him want to shrivel up
and die. 

He cleared his throat. "We did some research and discovered where Michael
had been found. Then we got a map and drew a circle that encompassed that
spot and the place where our parents found Isabel and me. We started
making searches of the area -- first on our bikes and later in my Jeep.
And we finally stumbled on the cave. Our cave. When we saw the incubation
pods, we pretty much realized the truth about ourselves. By then we'd all
heard the story of the Roswell Incident -- so we knew that the silvery
material of our pods matched the description of some of the material of
the debris found at the crash site." 

"Do you know how the pods got to the cave?" Liz asked. 

"We talked about that. We think one of our parents must have managed to
hide the pods before they died." 

Max knew the aliens in the ship must have been badly injured from the
crash. But someone had climbed out of the wreckage and done whatever it
had taken to save Max, Isabel, and Michael. Whoever it was must have loved
us, Max thought. He felt his throat tighten up. 

"Valenti got the facts pretty much right. He said he thought an alien
child had survived the crash," Liz said. "I don't know how he knew that." 

Max felt stricken. Maybe the alien who moved them had tried to go back to
the ship, tried to save the others. And maybe Valenti's organization had
found that alien, captured it, tortured it, gotten information from it. 

My parent, Max thought. Maybe Valenti's people hurt one of my parents. 

"We've got to come up with a plan," Liz was saying. "Valenti's not going
to give up. He's going to track you down, no matter how long it takes." 

"You've already done enough," Max told her. "You kept our secret. Now you
have to walk away. I don't want to put you in any more danger." 

"Look at me," Liz said fiercely. Her hand touched his arm, and he could
feel its warmth and smoothness. She was so beautiful, Max thought with a
pang. "I am not going to just walk away. You saved my life, and I'm never
going to forget that." 

Relief flooded Max. He wanted Liz out of danger. He wanted her safe. But
he also wanted her to help him, to understand him... to be with him. And
she would. She wasn't going to just disappear. 

"Then I guess we better go tell Isabel and Michael what you found out,"
Max said. 

"And Maria," Liz told him. "She knows, too. We're all in this together." 

And that means we're all in danger, he thought. 

*** 10 *** 

"I feel like I've been in a tornado," Max said as they pulled into the
school parking lot. He exchanged a shy, tentative smile with Liz.
Everything was still the same, but everything was different. 

"I thought exactly the same thing when Valenti dropped me off after our
little visit to the morgue," Liz answered. 

That happened to her a lot with Maria -- they were always finishing each
others sentences and making the same associations and connections. But Liz
had never felt such a connection to a guy before. 

"Are you ready to go in?" Max asked. 

Liz stared at Max's eyes, his face. How come she had never noticed how
handsome he was? 

"Let's wait until the bell rings, then we can blend better. We don't need
to get busted for cutting class on top of everything else." 

"Liz Ortecho, outlaw," Max teased. But he didn't look at her, and his
voice sounded flat and lifeless. He picked up the empty cracker wrapper
and smoothed it out. He folded it in half, then in half again, and kept
folding until it was a tiny square. 

The stuff about Valenti is all starting to sink in, Liz thought as she
watched him. She wished she could come up with something to say that would
make him feel better. But she knew there wasn't anything, so she just sat
with him, hoping that at least helped a little. 

Maybe I should hold his hand or something, Liz thought. She stared at his
hand on the seat. The hand that had touched her wound, that had healed
her. Could she help him feel better by holding his hand? 

"Did you have a nice talk with my dad?" a loud voice called, jerking her
out of her thoughts. 

Liz looked toward the voice and saw Kyle Valenti heading for Max's Jeep. 

The bell rang, the shrill sound blasting through the school doors. "Let's
get out of here. I don't want to deal with Kyle right now," Liz said,
keeping her voice low. 

"Should I get rid of him?" Max asked. 

"No, let's just go." They climbed out of the Jeep and started across the
parking lot. Liz walked fast, but not too fast. If Kyle thought she was
scared, it would only encourage him. 

She heard Kyle's boot heels thumping against the asphalt as he followed
them. "Interesting," he called in a snide voice. "You get pulled out of
school for questioning, and then you and Max Evans take off together. This
is very interesting. I bet my dad would think so, too." 

Kyle's right, Liz thought. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out Liz
might try to warn the alien she was protecting. And if Valenti heard about
her cutting school with Max, he would at the very least be curious about
Max -- who he was, why Liz would run to him after the trip to the morgue. 

Liz turned to face Kyle. Max moved in protectively, standing close beside
her -- and that gave her an idea. 

"Why? Is your father some kind of pervert or something?" she asked Kyle.
"Does he like to hear all the details of who is making out with who?" Liz
slid her arm around Max's waist. She could feel the tension in his body,
every muscle tight. 

I hope he's not too freaked to go along with my story, she thought. Then
she felt Max's arm loop around her shoulders. Good. "I talked Max into
cutting class. We wanted to have some time alone," Liz added. 

Kyle wasn't nearly as icy and controlled as his father. If she pushed him
just a little harder, she could probably make him forget all about his
suspicions. She'd just give him something more interesting to think about.

"Sometimes you just can't wait for school to end, you know? And both my
parents were out all afternoon, so..." 

"You and Evans -- right. I believe that," Kyle said sarcastically. 

Liz raised her eyebrows. "Well, I guess guys don't really notice other
guys' bodies." 

She let Kyle figure that one out for himself. She knew he got it when an
angry flush colored his face. He pushed his way past Max and Liz without
another word. 

"I hope I didn't damage your little male ego," she called after him. She
wanted Kyle to stay mad. It would keep him from thinking too much. 

Max started to move away, but Liz wrapped her other arm around his waist
and pulled him closer. "I have a feeling Kyle will be watching us. He's
not as dumb as he looks," she told him quietly. "We should kiss or
something." 

"Um, if you really think we should," Max answered. His voice sounded lower
than usual, huskier. 

Liz understood why actors always said doing love scenes wasn't sexy. It
was like she'd forgotten how to kiss. She couldn't decide what to do with
her hands. All she could think about was Kyle watching them. If this
didn't work... 

Max tilted her chin back with his thumb, and she found herself staring up
into his eyes. Suddenly it was a lot harder to think about Kyle. Max
lowered his head, and she closed her eyes, expecting to feel his lips
brush against hers. Instead he kissed the side of her neck. The unexpected
sensation sent a shock through her. 

His hands moved to her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Liz felt a
low tremor coursing through him. Or maybe it's me, she thought. Maybe I'm
the one trembling. 

Max kissed his way up to her earlobe. "Do you think he's gone?" he
whispered. 

Who? she thought. Then she remembered. Kyle. This was all a show for Kyle.
Her heart was thudding crazily. And Max's was, too. She could feel it
through his shirt. His warmth, his strength. 

Liz reached up and wove her fingers through Max's hair, holding him close.
"Maybe we should wait another minute," she whispered. "Just to be sure." 

*** 

"This is your fault, Max." Isabel's voice shook with anger. 

Max knew it would be tense with Isabel, Michael, Liz, and Maria in one
room to talk about the Valenti situation. But he hadn't expected it to be
this bad. He felt as if he were sitting in a minefield instead of his
living room. The wrong word from any of them could cause an explosion that
would destroy them all. 

"If you hadn't healed her, this wouldn't have happened," Isabel cried. 

Max knew she was terrified. He wanted to tell her that he would protect
her from Valenti no matter what it took. But that would only make things
worse. Isabel hated to admit that she was scared -- it made her feel even
more vulnerable or something. If he tried to reassure her, he knew she'd
totally go off on him. 

"You think he should have let her die?" Maria demanded. "Do you think
that, too, Michael? Do you think Max should have let Liz bleed to death?" 

Maria's aura usually reminded Max of a lake on a summer day -- sparkling
blue. Now it was more like an ocean before a storm -- murky green and
churning, potentially lethal. 

"Do you think Liz's life is more important than the three of ours? Because
it could come down to that," Michael answered calmly. Way too calmly.
Michael wasn't a calm guy. He had himself under control -- barely -- and
if he lost it, Max didn't know what he'd do. 

"Look, even before Max healed me, Valenti knew aliens existed. He doesn't
know anything more now," Liz said. She glanced from Maria to Michael to
Isabel, making eye contact with each of them. 

Max could tell she was trying to do some damage control, but he thought it
might be too late. He should have told Isabel and Michael about Valenti
alone. Being around humans who knew their secret was too much for them. 

"Valenti does know something more now," Isabel insisted. "He knows that
you know who the alien is. He's just going to keep hammering at you until
you tell him." 

"Liz would never do that!" Maria exclaimed. 

"Liz would never do that," Michael repeated in a shrill voice, mocking
her. "You only say that because you're too innocent to think of all the
ways someone as twisted as Valenti can come up with to make someone talk."

"It's not Liz I'm worried about," Isabel told Maria. "It's you. You want
to tell Valenti the truth, don't you?" 

"We both promised we wouldn't -- ," Liz began. 

But Maria interrupted her. "Yes! I want to tell him. I won't -- not unless
we all agree. But think about it -- it would solve everything. He told Liz
he just wants to track aliens to make sure they aren't a danger to humans.
Once he finds out you're not going to hurt anyone, he'll leave you alone.
He'll leave all of us alone." 

"I have three words for you -- Project Clean Slate. Does that sound like
some Welcome Wagon to you?" Michael demanded. "It's more like the
politically correct way to say death squad." 

"Michael's right," Liz said. "We can't -- " "I don't care what you have to
say about it. You're not one of us." Isabel pushed herself out of her
chair and strode over to Maria. She leaned down until they were eye to
eye. "If you take one step toward Valenti, I'll know about it, and I'll
kill you. I can do it, and you won't even see me coming. You'll go to
sleep one night and never wake up." 

"Shut up and sit back down!" Max exploded. "No one is killing anyone.
You're acting as cold and vicious as Valenti." 

Isabel straightened up and stared at Max. He could see tears shimmering in
her eyes. "I'm sorry, Izzy," he said immediately. "I didn't mean it to
come out like that." 

"Don't even bother," she answered. "I knew you would side with them." She
ran out of the room. A few seconds later Max heard his Jeep squealing out
of the driveway. 

"Nice going, man," Michael muttered as he went after her. 

Max was glad Isabel wouldn't be alone. There was no way she would let him
explain or apologize or anything for a while. But she would talk to
Michael, and he'd stop her from doing anything stupid. Unless she
convinced him to do something stupid. 

"I have to go, too. I can't -- " Maria's voice broke. She grabbed her
purse and her jacket and bolted. Max moved over to the couch and sat down
next to Liz. "I think that went well," he said sarcastically. 

"I'll talk to Maria," Liz said. "I know I can convince her not to go to
Valenti. She's just so scared that she wanted to believe we could tell him
and he would fix everything." 

"Isabel's scared, too -- more than scared. She's been terrified of Valenti
since we were little kids. He was like the bogeyman to her back then. She
used to have nightmares about him and wake up screaming," Max answered.
"But she won't hurt Maria. Isabel isn't that crazy." 

Liz didn't answer. She just studied his face, her dark brown eyes intense.
"What?" he asked. 

"You risked everything when you healed me, didn't you?" Liz said. "Putting
Michael and Isabel in danger must have really torn you up." 

"I knew I could trust you," he murmured, staring at her. He could almost
taste her skin under his lips. He could almost feel her body pressed
against his. Without even thinking about it, he leaned toward her. 

What are you doing? he thought. She let you kiss her today to get rid of
Kyle. Period. 

Then why did her eyes keep drifting down to his lips? Did she want him to
kiss her again? It sure seemed that way. But if Max were misreading her
signals, if she only let him touch her to throw Kyle off track, Max would
look like a jerk. Worse than a jerk. 

"Uh, I should go after Isabel and Michael," he said. 

*** 11 *** 

"There is a remarkable similarity in the accounts abductees have given of
the medical procedures performed on them by the alien beings. Most report
that hair and skin and tissue samples were taken and that small objects
were implanted in various parts of the body. Many experienced a needle or
drill penetrating the braincase." 

Maria stumbled away from the exhibit. She couldn't read any more. She'd
thought a trip to the UFO museum would make her feel better, because it
would help her understand Max, and Michael, and Isabel. But it had filled
her head with horrific images. 

The aliens didn't see anything wrong with performing experiments on
people. Want to know how a human thinks -- why not just stab a needle in
its brain? No need for anesthetic. And if you accidentally gave one a
lobotomy or traumatized it so badly it could never have a job or a family
-- no problem, there are always more of them to scoop up. 

Maria heard footsteps behind her. She turned around and saw Alex hurrying
toward her. Finally. She'd called him more than an hour ago. 

"I just got your message," he said breathlessly. "You sounded really
upset. What's up? Why did you want me to meet you here?" 

"Do you believe in life on other planets?" Maria asked. 

"Please tell me you didn't drag me down here to have one of your marathon
finding-the-meaning-of-life conversations," Alex complained. 

Maria glanced around the museum. There were a couple of tourists in
earshot. She grabbed Alex by the arm, dragged him to the tiny coffee shop
in the back, and sat him down at a table in the corner. 

"Remember that day at lunch when you came up to me and Liz and she started
talking about tampons?" Maria asked. 

"Could you just pick a subject and stay with it for ten seconds?" Alex
begged. 

Maria opened her mouth, then shut it. Was she really going to tell Alex
about Max and the others after she had promised Liz never to say anything
to anyone? 

She stared down at the table and traced one of the little alien heads
decorating the tabletop. She ran her finger around it again and again. Its
big, dark, almond-shaped eyes seemed to stare up at her accusingly. 

Liz just didn't understand. She thought she could trust Max. She didn't
realize that aliens don't have the same feelings and emotions humans do. 

Alex reached out and pulled her hand away from the alien head. "Hey,
something really is wrong, isn't it? You can tell me. What about that day
at lunch?" 

She couldn't handle this by herself. And for the first time she couldn't
talk her problem over with Liz. Liz was part of her problem. 

"That day at lunch Liz changed the subject when you came up because
something happened to her, something that we both promised to keep a
secret," Maria said. 

Alex leaned closer. "Is Liz all right?" he asked. 

"Yeah. At least for now," Maria answered. Just get to the point, she told
herself. "Last weekend Liz got shot while we were working at the cafe. Max
Evans was there -- and he healed her. He put his hands over the bullet
hole, and it closed up. He saved her life." 

"Oh, I get it." Alex slid back in his chair. "You and Liz are working on
your project for Miss Dibble's class. Arlene Bluth told me she's going
around asking people to borrow a quarter and telling them she'll mail it
back. She's supposed to write a report on the reactions she gets and
analyze what it indicates about society or something. Your project is much
cooler." 

"I'm not telling you this for some school project," Maria exclaimed. Her
voice started rising out of control. She took a deep breath and continued.
"I was there when it happened. I was holding this cloth over Liz's
stomach, and I could feel the blood soaking through it. My fingers were
getting all slippery, and I knew she was going to die." 

Maria swallowed hard. "Anyway, he saved her. And when she asked him how he
did it, he told her he was an alien." There, I said it, she thought. She
felt horrible about betraying Liz's trust, but they were both in danger,
and they needed help. 

"You're serious. You really believe that Max is from outer space?" Alex
asked. 

"Max, and Isabel, and Michael Guerin," Maria said. 

"Oh, right. Anyone else?" Alex joked. "How about Ronald McDonald -- no one
on earth has feet that big. And don't forget Elvis -- everyone knows he's
at least half alien." 

"I'm serious," Maria insisted. She had to make him believe her. She had
to. She needed someone on her side. 

"You're tweaking. I feel like I should be taking you to a rehab center or
something," Alex said. "But I know you never put impurities in your body."

"So you believe me?" Maria asked. She tightened her grip on his hands. If
she had to hold him here until she convinced him, she would. 

"I don't know. Let's just pretend I believe you and go on." Alex pulled
his hands away and shoved his hair away from his face. "You know, you're
not the first person who's told me a story about aliens. A friend of my
dad's, an air force pilot, swears he saw a UFO. Swears it. And he's a
total by-the-book military guy." 

He was willing to listen. That was as soothing as a good whiff of cedar
oil. Maria took her time and told him the whole story as calmly as she
could, with as many details as possible. Alex didn't interrupt with
questions. He just concentrated on what she had to say, his green eyes
locked on her face. 

"After I left Max's house, I called you and came straight here," Maria
concluded. 

"Do you know what other powers they have -- besides healing?" Alex asked. 

Maria shook her head. "Valenti and Elsevan DuPris both said the power to
heal and the power to kill went together, but I don't know if that's true
or not." 

"If I knew for sure what their powers were, I'd say we should just try to
talk to them. It sounds like all of you are scared," Alex said. "But
that's the problem. Scared and freaked out plus possibly lethal abilities
that we have no way to fight -- that's not a happy combination." 

"Valenti is the one with the information we need. He knows more about the
aliens than anyone else," Maria said. She caught a glimpse of all the
little alien faces on the tabletop and covered them with her purse. "We
have to go to Valenti. He's the only one who can protect us." 

*** 

This was the right place to come, Isabel thought. The entrance to the cave
was almost impossible to find if you didn't already know where it was. It
wasn't in the side of a cliff or anything -- it was more of a crack in the
desert floor. 

Yeah, there was no way Valenti could know about the cave. If anyone had
ever known about it, she would probably be floating in a jar full of
formaldehyde somewhere right now. She shuddered at the image that flashed
into her mind. 

But that's what would have happened, she told herself. If any human had
found our pods while we were incubating, they would have ripped us out,
killing us before we even had a chance to live. 

Isabel spotted Michael's sleeping bag in the back corner. She picked it up
and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was almost like having Michael's
arms around her -- the thick cloth was warm, and it smelled like him. 

She wished Michael were here right now. It was easy to feel safe with
Michael around. Besides, they needed to figure out what to do about
Valenti -- and they definitely needed to make their plans without Max and
the humans. Max was totally worthless. Liz had him so turned around, he
couldn't even see straight.. ,. He actually thought he could trust her. 

I'll talk to Michael as soon as I get home, Isabel decided. But she
couldn't go back yet. Valenti was out there somewhere. And this was the
only place she was absolutely sure he wouldn't find her. 

He doesn't know that Max is the one who healed Liz, Isabel reminded
herself. And if he doesn't know about Max, he doesn't know about me.
Nothing bad has happened. Valenti doesn't know anything. 

But she didn't quite believe it. She'd always had the feeling that Valenti
was moving closer and closer to finding out the truth, to finding her.
When she was a little girl, she used to dream about him every night.
Except in the dream he was a wolf, a wolf and Sheriff Valenti at the same
time. In the dream he was always hunting her, sniffing and growling, and
getting closer and closer to her hiding place. 

Isabel sat down and leaned against the cool limestone wall. Maybe she
could move in here. The cave was about three times as big as her bedroom.
A portable CD player, a few pillows, her makeup drawer -- it wouldn't be
so bad. She gave a choked laugh. Stacey would love that. Isabel Evans
living in a cave. 

She wasn't going to let Valenti do that to her. She wasn't going to hide
from him for the rest of her life -- just for tonight. Isabel wished she
could close her eyes and go to sleep for hours, the way humans did. She
just wanted to blank out for a while. But she couldn't. It wasn't time for
her to sleep yet, and her body simply wouldn't shut down until the right
time. 

Isabel sighed, then she reached over and pulled the treasure chest from
the hollowed-out spot in the wall. It had been a long time since she'd
looked at the objects she and Max and Michael had found in the desert.
Maybe they would help keep her mind off Valenti. 

She opened the lid of the battered wooden chest and pulled out the little
square of plasticlike material. She ran her fingers over the purple
markings. She'd spent hours trying to decode them. She'd never told Max
and Michael, but she'd secretly hoped they were a message from her mother.

Isabel didn't think much about her real mother anymore, or at least she
tried not to. A few years ago she had rented the Roswell Incident alien
autopsy tape. She had only been able to watch a few minutes. The sight of
the small body lying on the metal tables sickened her -- even before the
doctors made the first incision. 

Max and Michael kept telling her the whole tape could be a fake. They
didn't know what their real parents looked like. They weren't even sure
what they looked like themselves. Maybe their human bodies were just a
kind of practical adaptation to living on earth. Maybe on their own planet
they would look completely different. 

It didn't matter to Isabel if the tape was fake or not. From that night
on, every time she thought about her real mother, that image had filled
her mind, blocking out everything else. 

Isabel's shoulders started to shake, and a hiccuping sob escaped her.
That's what's going to happen to me when Valenti finds us. She could
almost feel the cold metal underneath her, the cut of the knife. 

She shoved herself as deep into the corner of the cave as she could. She
pulled her knees to her chest and gathered the sleeping bag tight around
her. "You're safe here," she whispered. But she couldn't stop another sob
from ripping through her. 

She heard a scrabbling sound. She jerked up her head and saw a pair of
long, jean-clad legs sliding through the entrance to the cave. A moment
later Michael jumped down onto the cave floor. 

"Hey, Izzy Lizard," he said. 

Michael crossed the cave with long strides and wrapped his arms around
her. He rocked her back and forth, holding her tight against his chest. 

Isabel clung to him. She finally felt safe. Safe... and kind of
embarrassed. "I -- I'm sorry," she stammered. "I c -- can't stop crying." 

"I've seen you cry before," he told her. He rubbed his hands up and down
her back, soothing her with his touch. "You cried more than this that time
I flushed your doll down the toilet." 

"I'm getting your shirt all wet." 

"You hate this shirt." Michael used the corner of his worn flannel shirt
to wipe the tears off Isabel's face. "You can even blow your nose on it if
you want to. That's how much I care." 

"No thanks." Isabel grabbed a Kleenex from her purse and wiped her nose.
Then she pulled out her compact and studied her face. Her skin looked red
and blotchy. She brushed on a little powder. 

"Feel better?" Michael asked. 

"Feel stupid." 

"Don't worry about it." He smoothed her hair away from her face, his big
hands gentle. "You've done much stupider things." 

Isabel slapped his shoulder. "Thanks." 

Michael nodded. "Let's get out of here. Max must be flipping out." 

"He deserves it. Can't we just stay here tonight?" Isabel didn't think she
was ready to leave the cave, even with Michael. 

"There's only one sleeping bag -- and it's mine. Come on. I'll stay at
your house tonight if you want." 

"Will you sleep in front of the door of my room -- like a big watchdog?"
She smiled at Michael. It felt good to do something so normal. She'd been
practicing her flirting skills on him since she was a little girl. 

"I was thinking more like the couch," Michael said. "But maybe we can work
something out. Would you be willing to mow my backyard?" He pushed himself
to his feet and stretched his hand down to Isabel. 

She let him pull her up and guide her across the cave floor. She climbed
up on the rock she used to reach the mouth of the cave. Then she
hesitated. "He's out there somewhere." 

"He's not going to hurt you. If he tries, he's going to have to get
through me," Michael promised. 

Isabel knew she had to leave the cave sometime, and she'd much rather do
it with Michael by her side. "Let's go." 

Isabel hauled herself out of the cave. Michael scrambled up a second
later. They began the long walk back to the Jeep, and Isabel pulled off
the tarp they used for camouflage. They always parked it some distance
away from their cave as a precaution. She handed Michael the keys and
jumped into the passenger seat. "You drive, okay?" she asked. She just
couldn't handle it right now. 

"Sure." Michael climbed behind the wheel and backed the Jeep out of the
rocky overhang where they hid it. Isabel could hear the mesquite bushes
crunching under the tires as they drove back toward the highway. 

"How did you get out here, anyway?" she asked. 

"Hitched." 

"Are we leaving tracks?" she asked. She'd never thought of that before.
Were they leaving a trail that could lead Valenti to their cave? 

"Too dry out here," Michael answered. "Valenti's just a man, you know. You
act like he has superhuman powers or something. If he gets too close,
we'll take him out." 

She glanced over at Michael. He wasn't kidding. 

"What about Liz and Maria?" 

Michael didn't answer for a moment. "I think Max is right about Liz. If
she was going to talk, she would have done it when Valenti showed her the
handprints on that guy's body. But Maria... I don't think she wants to
hurt anyone, but she's scared. And that makes her unpredictable." 

"She practically said she was going to go to Valenti," Isabel reminded
him. 

"I bet Liz can handle Maria," Michael said as he swung the Jeep onto the
highway. "But if she can't -- " 

The long wail of a siren cut him off. Isabel's eyes jerked to the rearview
mirror. She saw the flashing blue lights of the sheriff's car, and her
heart slammed into her ribs. "It's Valenti." She knew he was out here. She
knew he would track her down. 

Michael pulled over to the side of the road. 

"Don't stop. Are you crazy?" Isabel cried. 

Michael reached over and grabbed her hand. He squeezed it hard. "I was
probably speeding or something. You've got to get a grip. Don't let him
see how scared you are." 

Isabel tensed as the sound of Valenti's boot heels grew louder. She
couldn't bring herself to look over at him when she heard him stop by
Michael's side of the Jeep. 

"I need you to step out of the car, please," Valenti said, his voice low
and even. "Both of you." 

*** 12 *** 

What happened to her? Ever since Isabel had stormed out of the house, Max
had been able to feel her fear, strong and constant, like a headache. But
about an hour ago he'd experienced something more like a hammer to the
forehead. A shot of pure terror. He knew something horrible had happened
to her. 

I hope Michael found her first, Max thought. He couldn't stand the idea of
Isabel going through something so terrifying alone. If Michael didn't find
her, he would have come back here, Max told himself. 

So where were they? He'd expected Isabel to come slamming back into the
house a couple of hours after she left -- maybe with a new dress or a pint
of Ben & Jerry's that she would refuse to share with him. That's what she
usually did when she had a fight with him or their parents. 

Well, maybe he hadn't expected that to happen. It wasn't like he and
Isabel had a fight about whose turn it was to wash the dishes. But he'd
hoped, he'd really hoped. 

"Denial's not just a river in Egypt," he muttered. It was something his
mom always said. Max and Isabel were always making fun of her because she
had a saying for everything. They'd even made up this game. One of them
would come up with a situation, and the other one would have to come up
with what Mom would say. 

Max glanced at the clock. It was after two in the morning. What could
possibly have happened that would stop Isabel from making it home? All he
could feel from her was terror -- nothing else, no hints about where she
could be. He'd called a few of her friends, casually asking if she was
there, but he wasn't surprised when they all said no. Izzy was popular.
She had a billion more friends than Max. But they were all sort of
surface, let's-hang-out-at-the-mall friends, not people she would go to if
she had a problem. The only humans Isabel really trusted were their
parents. 

Man, Isabel, would you just come home already? Max thought. He shouldn't
have yelled at her. She was already so freaked, and he'd made it worse. 

He could take Dad's car and drive around. Maybe if he went in the right
direction, the feelings from Isabel would get stronger. That way he'd be
able to track her down. It didn't usually work like that, but Max had to
do something. If he stayed in his room one more second, he'd go nuts. His
parents would find him curled up in the corner, whispering to himself. 

Max grabbed his key ring off the dresser. He decided to go out the window.
His dad had X-ray hearing -- if Max tried to go out the front door, he'd
get busted. Luckily they thought Isabel was already home for the night. He
didn't think he'd be able to find an excuse for what he was doing sneaking
out after midnight. At least not one that would pass his dad's bull
detector. 

He slid out the window and hopped into the backyard. He trotted to the low
side gate and vaulted over it. As he headed to the driveway he heard his
Jeep driving down the street. He'd spent so much time working on the
engine, he knew the sound by heart. 

Max spun toward the sound. He felt some of the tension drain out of him
when he saw that Isabel and Michael were both in the Jeep -- until they
pulled into the driveway and he saw their faces. All Isabel's lipstick and
stuff had worn off -- she never let that happen. And Michael's mouth was
set in a hard line. 

"What?" Max demanded. 

"Valenti picked us up," Isabel answered. 

"What?" Max exploded. 

"He was just doing his usual harass-anyone-under-twenty crap," Michael
explained. "But it scared the hell out of both of us." 

Michael shot a glance at Isabel. Max gave a small nod, signaling that he
had picked up on the fact that Isabel was seriously flipped out. 

"I think... I think he could tell there was something wrong," Isabel
stammered. "I was acting way too scared for someone... who got stopped for
speeding, especially because I wasn't even driving." 

Max could see the muscles in Isabel's throat working as she struggled to
keep from crying. 

"You were fine," Michael told her. He took off his jacket and wrapped it
around her shoulders. That's when Max realized she was trembling. 

Isabel shook her head. "I made him suspicious. I messed up." 

"He probably just thought you were worried you'd get grounded for showing
up at home so late," Max said. He didn't really believe it. No one looking
at Isabel right now would believe it. But he had to say something. The
haunted expression on his sister's face was tearing him up. 

Isabel wrapped her arms around herself. "Maybe, maybe you're right," she
mumbled. "But we aren't safe for long. Valenti's going to find out about
us, I know it. We have to leave town tonight, and we can't ever come
back." 

"If we bolt, then he'll really be suspicious. We'd end up with every
Project Clean Slate agent out there searching for us," Max argued.
"Besides, Mom and Dad would be devastated. They'd never get over it." 

And I would never see Liz again, he thought. Something was building
between them, and he wanted to be around to see what it was. 

"Mr. Hughes would probably have a party if I took off," Michael muttered.
"But Max is right. It wouldn't be smart." 

"If we stay, we have to do something about Maria. She's going to tell
Valenti everything -- you saw the way she looked at us. And Liz won't be
able to stop her," Isabel insisted. "We're not going to be safe as long as
any human knows our secret." 

Safe. Max knew how important it was to Isabel to feel safe. He wasn't sure
if she ever really had. But he couldn't let her hurt Liz or Maria. 

"Liz is Maria's best friend," he said. He tried to keep his voice
emotionless. He didn't want Isabel to think he was about to go off on her
again. "They've known each other since they were little girls. I'm sure
she'll be able to convince Maria to keep quiet." 

"You have a lot of confidence in Liz," Isabel said. She didn't sound happy
about it. 

"So should you. Valenti came down on her hard, but she didn't tell him a
thing," Max reminded her. "I want us all to agree that we leave Liz and
Maria alone." 

Isabel didn't answer. Michael was looking anywhere but at Max. 

"Come on," Max urged. 

"Okay," Michael said finally. 

"For now," Isabel added. 

*** 

I don't believe it. Maria told Alex. Liz could tell just by looking at his
face. 

Maria and Alex were waiting for Liz by her locker, and it was clear they
weren't just hanging out, killing time before the first bell. They
obviously had something important to say to her. "Hi, guys." Liz just
wasn't ready to have this conversation. She acted really caught up in
dialing her locker combination. When she pulled down the lock, it wouldn't
open. She'd screwed up the combination somehow. 

"We need to talk to you," Maria said. "I told Alex everything. I know I
promised you I wouldn't, but I was wrong. This whole situation is too big
and too dangerous for the two of us to handle alone." 

She sounded so stiff and formal, like she'd stayed	fit up all night
rehearsing. Liz stopped fiddling with her lock and studied her friend.
Maria definitely spent last night doing something besides sleeping. Her
eyes had dark smudges under them, and her complexion had a grayish tint. 

"I wish you had at least called me first," Liz answered. "I left you about
a hundred messages. I even stopped by your house, but no one was home." 

"I know. I'm sorry. I... I'm sorry," Maria said again. "That's all I can
say. But I don't think I did the wrong thing." 

At least she's not making a speech anymore, Liz thought. Liz usually would
have felt totally angry and hurt if Maria told a secret they agreed to
keep. But she'd seen how scared Maria was yesterday. And Isabel did
threaten to kill her. That was enough to make anybody break a promise. 

"It's okay," Liz said. She turned to Alex. It was so weird to have him
standing there all quiet and serious. He usually talked practically
nonstop. "So now that you know, what do you think?" she asked. 

"I think none of us really knows what we're dealing with -- and that's
dangerous. We don't know what powers they have. We don't know what their
agenda is. I don't think we can just assume they are exactly what they
appear to be. I think the three of us have to go to Valenti and tell him
what's going on." 

"No!" Liz cried. "You sound like your father, you know that? Talking about
agendas and powers. We don't know what they are -- so let's kill them.
Maybe you should go into the military. I think you'd be great at it." 

Alex winced. Liz knew she'd said pretty much the most hurtful thing
possible. But it was true. "Look, you're both forgetting that you do know
Max, and Michael, and Isabel. Maria, you especially. You've known all of
them since we were little. They're still the same people they were -- " 

"They aren't people," Maria interrupted. "And Isabel never threatened to
kill me in elementary school." 

"And we can't be sure that they haven't just been playing us, showing us
only what they want to show us," Alex added. 

Liz felt like screaming at them both. She couldn't believe how stupid, and
prejudiced, and horrible they were being. You felt practically the same
way after Valenti got through with you yesterday, she reminded herself. 

"I understand how you feel. I do," Liz told them. "Yesterday I was half
convinced I should tell Valenti everything, more than half convinced. But
then I saw Max heal one of the mice in the bio lab. No one was around. He
didn't know I was watching. If Max has been playing us, why would he
bother to save some stupid little mouse?" 

"The mouse wasn't in his way. You and Maria are," Alex answered. 

"What are you talking about?" Liz demanded. 

"The mouse wasn't any threat to him," Alex explained. "Why not heal it?
But that doesn't mean that if he felt in danger -- or even if his mission
was being jeopardized -- that he would have any problem killing. We just
don't know, that's the problem." 

"Mission? What mission? Did we just enter the paranoia zone or what?" Liz
demanded. "I know Max. I trust him. I am not going to do anything that
might hurt him. And neither are you." 

"It's not just your decision," Maria cried. "I'm the one they don't trust
-- you heard Isabel say it. She's going to come after me. Why don't you
care about protecting me as much as you care about protecting Max?" 

Liz heard Maria's voice crack. What am I supposed to do? she thought. She
was stuck in the middle between her best friend and -- and what? What was
Max to her, exactly? Two weeks ago she would have just said he was her lab
partner and kind of a casual friend. Someone who had been in her life for
years but who wasn't really a big part of it. Everything had changed so
much, so fast. "Of course I care about what happens to you," Liz answered.
"But you're totally overreacting. No one is going to hurt you. I promise."

"You can't promise," Maria insisted. "You don't know. After school I'm
going to Valenti's office -- whether you come with me or not." 

"I'll go with you," Alex said quietly. "Sony, Liz. I have to." 

There's no way I can stop them, Liz realized. Nothing I can say. What am I
going to do? If I tell Max that Maria and Alex are planning to go to
Valenti, I don't know what will happen. Michael and Isabel really might go
after them, and I'm not sure Max could stop them. 

But if I don't say anything, Valenti will come after Max, Isabel, and
Michael. And he'll probably kill them. 

I don't want to choose, Liz thought. How can I? 

What am I going to do? 

*** 13 *** 

"Max, come sit with us," Liz called. 

Max turned and saw Liz, Maria, and Alex eating lunch on the grass in the
center of the quad. He could tell by Maria's aura that she was just as
upset as she had been yesterday -- maybe more. A deep gray was mixed in
with the churning murky green of her aura. 

But it was Liz's aura his eyes were drawn to as he walked toward them. It
was filled with so many colors, it hurt to look at it. There were the
sickly yellow streaks of fear and the crimson splotches her aura got when
she was angry. There were gray swirls of worry and confusion. And across
everything was a spiderweb of dark purple. His mother's aura had a
spiderweb like that after his grandfather died. It was a sign of a deep
sadness. Liz slid over, and Max sat down next to her. He didn't know what
to say. Was he supposed to do the usual lunchtime talk thing -- someone
heard Johanne Oakley throwing up in the bathroom that morning, and now
everyone thought she was pregnant; there was supposed to be a raid on
Guffman High that night to steal the Olsen High mascot back; Doug
Highsinger got sent home for showing up at school dressed like Marilyn
Manson. He didn't know if he could pull it off. 

"Uh, so, what do you guys think my next list should be?" Alex asked. "I
was thinking maybe alternate uses for pennies, you know, because they're
pretty much worthless, and..." His voice trailed off. 

Alex feels the tension between Maria and Liz, Max realized. You didn't
have to be able to see auras to know something was wrong with both of
them. Alex's aura didn't look too great itself. It had an oily, greasy
cast to it. 

"How about really bad dog names?" Liz jumped in. "Names you would never
want to have to yell at the top of your lungs if your dog gets lost." She
sounded hypercheerful and phony, kind of like Stacey Scheinin. 

Something is really wrong here, Max thought. 

Liz glanced between Alex and Maria, and her toothpaste commercial smile
faded. "I can't do this," she said. "I can't just sit here and -- Max,
Alex knows." 

Max felt as if he'd been sucker punched. There was no way he'd be able to
control Isabel and Michael now. No possible way. 

Liz reached over and grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his. "I
want you guys to look at Max," she told her friends. "Really look at him.
He saved my life. He -- " 

"Hey, Max, congratulations. I didn't think you'd be able to keep Liz
interested in you for a whole day." 

Max tensed and felt Liz's grip tighten on his hand at the sound of Kyle
Valenti's voice. Kyle circled the group and positioned himself behind
Alex. 

You can't get into it with him right now, Max thought. It wouldn't be
smart. 

"Don't get too used to spending time with her, though." He smirked down at
Max. 

Kyle seemed like an attention deficient type. Max figured if he didn't
answer, Kyle would get bored and leave. 

But Kyle kept staring him. He looked a little confused, as if he couldn't
figure out why Max wasn't saying anything. 

"Well, I guess you could still see Liz if you don't mind visiting her in
prison," Kyle continued. "Accessories to murder don't go to juvie." He
turned to Liz. "You know lying to my dad makes you an accessory, right?" 

"Your problem is with me. Leave her out of it," Max ordered. 

"As long as she keeps lying to my father she's in it," Kyle shot back. "I
don't know what my dad thinks, but I figure the murderer she's protecting
is you, Evans. It's not too cool hiding behind a girl." 

"Kyle, you're pathetic," Maria burst out. "You came up with this
ridiculous theory because you can't deal with the fact that Liz would
rather hang with Max than you. Just grow up already." 

A dark flush colored Kyle's face. "I bet your sister would be impressed,
Liz," Kyle said. "I mean, she got arrested once, too, but it was only a
little drug bust. You're going to be hitting the big time." 

Max leaped to his feet and launched himself at Kyle in one fluid motion.
Kyle fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. Max straddled him and
slammed his fist into Kyle's nose. He heard it crack and felt warm blood
spurt across his fingers. 

"Max, no!" Liz screamed. 

But he wasn't stopping now. Kyle was going to pay for every word he'd said
to Liz. Max drew back his fist and brought it down on Kyle's mouth. Then
he felt hands on the back of his shirt, yanking him away. 

Alex hauled him off Kyle. He grabbed Max by the shoulders and pinned him
to the ground. 

Max jerked his head to the side and saw Kyle wiping the blood off his face
with his sleeve. "This isn't over," Kyle said. Then he turned and started
to walk away. 

"You're right," Max shouted. "It's not over." He tried to shove Alex away.
He was going after Kyle. He was going to pound the guy into the ground. 

Alex jabbed his knee into Max's chest. "You're staying here. If you go
after him, you're going to end up in the principal's office and both your
parents are going to get called in. Do you really want to be sitting in a
room with Sheriff Valenti right now? Don't you think he'd be a little
curious what this fight was about?" 

Max still wanted to go after Kyle, but Alex was making sense. 

"Can I let you up now? Have you regrown a brain?" Alex asked. He stared
down at Max, waiting for an answer. 

"Yeah, okay," Max muttered. Alex let him sit up. Max rubbed his arm and
studied Alex's face. "Man, how did you do that? I didn't even see you
coming -- then I was on the ground." 

"Three older brothers," Alex answered. "Big ones." 

"About what you said? You were right," Max told him. "Thanks." 

"We have to stand together against the Kyles of the world," Alex answered.

*** 

I need some cedar, Maria thought. She opened her purse and rooted around
until she felt one of the tiny vials. She pulled it out. Eucalyptus. She
tossed it back inside. Eucalyptus was for invigoration, and Maria already
felt ready to jump out of her skin. 

Where was Max? The last bell had rung more than half an hour ago, and he
still hadn't come out. She could see his Jeep from here, so she knew she
hadn't missed him. 

Maria peered into her purse, searching for the vial of cedar. Ah, there it
was. She jerked it out and twisted off the tiny top. She brought the vial
to her nose and closed her eyes. Think of a forest filled with ancient
cedar trees, she told herself. See yourself in the forest and feel at
peace. 

It wasn't working. Maybe Liz was right about aromatherapy. Or maybe some
problems were just way too big for the smell of cedar and an imaginary
forest. Maria opened her eyes -- and saw Max climbing into his Jeep. 

"Max, wait," she called. She trotted over. "Um, can I talk to you?" She
climbed into the Jeep next to him before he could answer. She didn't want
him to say no. 

"What's up?" Max did a little drum solo on the steering wheel. It was
totally obvious he wanted to get out of there, out of there and away from
her. 

"Are guys, like, born with the ability to play those drum riffs?" she
asked. "Because whenever I try it, it just sounds like an elephant
stampede or something. And air guitar? Forget about it." 

Max glanced over at her, his lips curving in a crooked smile. "I'm living
proof that it's not genetic." 

"I forgot. Duh. For one second I forgot," Maria said. "And you know why?
It's because you're not this creature out of a bad movie." 

"That's a relief," Max answered. 

"I'm sorry. I'm making it worse," Maria cried. "What I came out here to
say was that I've been afraid of you ever since I found out... you know. I
just kept thinking that you must see me as a gnat or a pea pod or
something." 

"Wait. A pea pod?" Max stared at her. 

"Something -- other," Maria explained. "Something that wouldn't seem like
a life-form in the same, what do you call it, genus or species. You know
how people eat animals and plants? They can do that because they see them
as something -- other. If they didn't -- " 

"Wait. You were afraid I was going to eat you?" Max cracked up. 

Maria stared at him -- his shoulders were shaking, his mouth was stretched
open, his face was turning red. 

"Well, not really, but sort of, yeah, I was sort of afraid you'd eat me."
Maria broke into giggles. She giggled until her stomach hurt and tears
filled her eyes. When they both started to get a grip, Max snorted, and
that set them both off again. 

"Okay, we have to stop," Maria gasped. She squeezed her lips shut with her
fingers until she got control of herself. "Okay, okay, I'm okay. What I
wanted to tell you -- " 

Max gave a choked laugh. Maria pointed her finger at him. "No, we're not
doing that again. I just wanted to tell you that it became totally clear
to me at lunch how much you care about Liz. I realized I was wrong about
you, and I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," Max answered. "I was totally flipped out when I first found
out... what I was. I felt like a monster, like I should stay away from
everyone but Michael and Isabel." 

Maria felt a rush of tenderness and protectiveness. "You're not a
monster." She reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead,
then she looked away. She felt embarrassed suddenly. She and Max had never
had a single conversation that wasn't totally lightweight, and now they'd
both sort of spilled their guts. 

"We need to figure out what to do about Valenti," she said briskly.
"Kyle's going to make him even more suspicious of you and Liz. And he
won't give up until he finds out the truth -- about all of us." 

"I think I have an idea about what to do first," Max said. "Let me give
you a ride home, and I'll tell you about it. Okay, pea pod?" 

Maria smiled at him, an all-out, I'll-be-your-bestfriend smile. "Okay." 

*** 14 *** 

"Max, you are aware that we live in Roswell, not LA?" Isabel asked. "This
is a little touchy-feely woo-woo, isn't it?" 

"Let's just start," Liz said. 

Max glanced around at Isabel, Michael, Alex, Maria, and Liz. They stood in
a circle in the center of the cave, all of them looking uncomfortable. 

"I think we should all hold hands," Max said. 

"Oh, please," Isabel muttered. 

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Michael asked. He sounded like a
five-year-old who needed a nap. 

"We're doing this because before we can come up with a plan to deal with
Valenti, we have to know we can trust one another," Max explained. "It's
like we're going into battle -- and we have to know who is covering our
backs." 

Alex looped his arm around Michael's shoulders. "I already have complete
faith in this Power Ranger." Michael shoved him away, but Max noticed that
Michael couldn't stop a grin from breaking across his face. 

Max shook his head. Michael and Alex had discovered they shared the same
sense of humor. Spending much time around them could get ugly. "If we hold
hands, I think I might be able to form a connection between all of us --
the way I do when I'm healing," he explained. 

Isabel sighed loudly. "He's never going to shut up until we do it." She
grabbed Max's fingers and squeezed them as tight as she could. His sister
was not a happy camper. But she was a big reason Max wanted to try to make
the group connection. Isabel needed a jump start to allow her to trust the
humans. 

Max reached for Alex's hand. He was kind of glad Liz wasn't on his other
side. Touching her might make it hard to concentrate on the whole group.
When he was around her, it was hard for him to focus on anything or anyone
else. 

He took a deep breath and began searching for a way in, a way to connect. 

*** 

Liz could hardly believe they were all in one room -- well, sort of a
room, a cave room -- together. When she first showed up, she almost wished
she had a metal detector so she could check everyone for weapons. Although
that wouldn't really work for aliens because they basically carried their
weapons around in their heads. 

And now, now they were all holding hands. It was like the end of How the
Grinch Stole Christmas! where all the little Whos down in Who-ville stood
around and sang their song welcoming Christmas. The song that made the
Clinch's heart grow. 

I hope this works on Isabel's heart, she thought. But that wasn't the
right attitude to go into this thing with. Liz took a deep breath and
tried to let go of all her thoughts, the way she did when she made the
connection with Max. She imagined all the mean thoughts and prejudices and
fears slipping away, becoming unimportant. 

And then she heard the music. 

*** 

Isabel recognized the notes echoing off the cave walls. They were the
sounds of the dream orbs. She could pick out the tone of each of their
orbs in the music. 

The sound of each orb alone was beautiful. But together... Isabel let the
music fill her. There was no way anyone could listen to it and feel afraid
or angry. The music took the place of all her negative emotions, filling
her with a sense of peace, of rightness. 

The music wouldn't sound this way if there was someone here who wanted to
do harm, she realized. She heard the high sound of Marias dream orb
playing follow the leader with the lower sound of Isabel's orb. I guess
this means I'm going to have to be friends with her or something, she
thought. And across the circle she caught Maria smiling at her. 

*** 

Maria wished she could stand there forever, listening to the music. No,
not listening to it. Feeling it. It washed through her in waves, sweeping
away all the garbage. The thoughts about the test she had tomorrow, the
anger at her parents over the divorce, and most of all her fear of Isabel.

She was as afraid as I was, Maria thought suddenly. The thought just
appeared in her mind, and she knew it was true. An image flashed into her
head of Isabel curled up in the corner of the cave, terrified that Valenti
was coming after her. Maria felt a wave of sympathy. It was all an act.
All Isabel's threats were just to hide how scared she was. She was never
going to hurt me. 

Maria caught a hint of cedar in the air. No, not just cedar, cedar and
ylang-ylang. And cinnamon. And almonds. And eucalyptus. And roses. 

It's like the music is making the perfume, she thought. Then she realized
the truth. It's all coming from us. 

*** 

Michael swayed on his feet. The music and the smells were making him sort
of dizzy. He needed to go outside. He needed to be alone for a minute. It
was too intense in here. 

Max's plan had worked. Michael was convinced that no one here was
dangerous. So couldn't this thing end? He didn't know about the rest of
them, but he didn't like standing here with his guts spilling out. That's
what it felt like. He stared over at Max, trying to signal him that it was
time to break the connection. 

As he watched, Max's aura began to glow and shimmer. It was like a liquid
emerald. It wasn't clouded by any emotions. It was just a jolt of one
hundred percent pure Max. 

Michael felt his anxiety start to fade as he lost himself in the color. He
caught a glimpse of something shining to his left. He turned and saw that
Maria's aura had started to glow, too, the blue of a mountain lake. 

He gazed around the circle, taking in the deep purple of Isabel's aura,
the warm amber of Liz's, Alex's sunny orange, and his own brick red. We
really look like a rainbow..., he thought. And he laughed. He felt the
others laughing with him. 

*** 

It's like a total multimedia event, Alex thought. He tried to come up with
a word for the mix of colors, music, and scents, but nothing felt right.
What he was feeling went beyond language. 

Alex had never felt so connected to other people, so accepted. He didn't
have any friends who had known him since practically birth, friends the
way Liz and Maria were friends. He'd switched schools so many times that
he hardly had any friends at all. And his brothers were all older and so
different. He always felt kind of like a freak around them. 

Maybe this is what it's like to have lived in one town your whole life. 

He'd always wanted to have a home in a place where everyone knew him. 

*** 

Max slowly loosened his grip on Alex's and Isabel's hands, allowing the
connection to fade. 

"Whoa," Alex muttered. "All I can say is whoa." 

"Yeah," Maria agreed. "Whoa." 

"I think I finally know how my dad feels at a Grateful Dead concert," Liz
told them. 

"If we could make that in a pill form, we could become drug lords and make
a billion," Michael added. 

"Thanks, Max," Isabel said softly. 

"So I guess now we know we can trust everyone here." The connection left
Max feeling calm and hyperalert at the same time. He felt ready to take on
Valenti. "Anyone have any ideas about how to handle the sheriff?" 

"Actually," Michael answered, "yeah." 

*** 15 *** 

"Everyone knows what they're supposed to do, right?" Max asked. In less
than an hour, if everything went the way they planned, Valenti would be
off their case forever. 

"I rehearsed in the shower," Maria told him. 

"We've been over it a thousand times already, Dad," Isabel answered. "Can
we please just go back into the dance? They're about to announce the
homecoming queen, and I want to be there to act all surprised and happy." 

"We know our stuff," Alex agreed. "Let's go. We wouldn't want Isabel to
miss the big moment, right, Michael?" 

"Right. That would be horrible," Michael said. 

Max caught the scent of jasmine as Liz moved past him. He followed her
across the parking lot and into the gym. He tried not to stare at her, but
she looked so gorgeous in that dress. All long legs, and smooth shoulders,
and shiny dark hair. The green material of the dress was making him crazy.
At first glance it looked really sheer, almost see-through. But it wasn't
really see-through because there was some kind of lining under it. 

Being around Liz was like torture. It was so much worse now that he'd
kissed her. It was bad enough when he used to look at her and imagine what
it would be like to feel her in his arms. But now that he knew, it was
driving him crazy. He wished he knew what she thought about those moments
in the parking lot. He felt as if every sensation were tattooed on his
brain. But she could have forgotten all about it. Maybe all she remembered
was that it had been a good way to get rid of Kyle. 

"I have to say, I'm so impressed by the decorations," Alex said. "It was a
bold move to use yellow and brown crepe paper and big autumn leaves for
the homecoming dance." 

Michael snorted. 

"Does anyone see Stacey Scheinin?" Isabel asked. She craned her neck,
trying to see over the people in front of them. 

"She's right over there, crammed between two football players," Maria
answered. 

Isabel moved next to her. "Oh yeah. Now I see her. Good. I want a view of
her face when they make the announcement that I'm this year's homecoming
queen." 

"Okay, the moment you've all been waiting for," Ms. Shaffer called from
the stage at the front of the gym. The microphone whined, and she winced.
"This year's homecoming queen and king are... Liz Ortecho and Max Evans." 

Isabel stopped in midsqueal. "What?" she cried. 

"Go on up there," Maria exclaimed. She gave Max a push. 

"Let's go." Liz sounded as surprised as Max felt. She took his hand and
led the way up to the stage. Ms. Shaffer was reading the names of their
court, but Max couldn't focus. How had this happened? He could understand
why Liz won. Liz was the most beautiful girl in school, plus she was
totally popular, definitely one of the elite -- it only made sense that
she got a ton of votes. But who would have voted for him? 

He climbed up the steps and headed over to Ms. Shaffer. Everyone in the
gym was clapping and whistling. He could hear Michael and Alex hooting
louder than anyone. They had to be loving this. Its not like any guy
really wanted to be homecoming king. 

Ms. Shaffer handed Liz a bouquet of roses and placed a dime-store
rhinestone tiara on her head. Max leaned down so she could put the crown
on him. Liz kissed his cheek, and he could tell she was trying not to
giggle by the way her lips were vibrating. 

Some love song started to play, and a spotlight hit Liz and Max, blinding
him. "We're supposed to dance," Liz whispered. 

Max jumped off the stage and held his hands up to Liz. She let him swing
her down to his side. He felt kind of awkward. He would have loved to slow
dance with Liz by themselves or even in the middle of a big crowd. But
everyone had cleared a circle in the center of the gym floor so they could
start off the dance alone. 

Liz reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and her body brushed
against his. Max felt as if his blood had turned carbonated, popping and
fizzing in his veins. He placed his hands on her waist. He didn't try to
pull her closer. We're friends, he told himself. 

"I felt sort of frozen up there," he said. He thought it would help him do
the friend thing if he talked. "You know, like a polar bear at the zoo.
All those people watching me." 

Liz chuckled. "Why?" 

"Because I've always been the quiet guy," Max answered. "If a total
unknown can become homecoming king, it has to be a joke, right?" 

"You're not a polar bear." Liz smiled. "You're too good-looking-like you
should be on Baywatch or something," she answered. 

"Everyone still thinks I'm strange." Max knew it was true, but he didn't
really care. 

"They think you're quiet." Liz started playing with the hair at the back
of his neck. 

Wait, Max thought. What was that? Does a girl who wants to be friends play
with your hair like that? 

"I was thinking that we should kiss. People are going to be expecting it
-- since we're king and queen and everything," Liz said. She sounded like
she was half teasing, but half not. 

Max couldn't believe this was happening. Liz Ortecho wanted him to kiss
her. "If you really think we should," he said, grateful he could speak at
all. 

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. Liz's lips parted,
welcoming him, deepening their kiss. Max kept his eyes wide open. If he
shut them, it would feel too much like a dream. 

*** 

"Maybe I need to get contacts," Stacey told Isabel. "Because I didn't see
you up there." 

"You weren't up there, either." Tish jumped to Isabel's defense. 

Isabel felt like she'd slipped into an alternate universe. Her brother had
just gotten elected homecoming king, and Isabel was standing on the
sidelines. Hello -- what was wrong with this picture? 

"They're playing our song." 

Isabel glanced over her shoulder and saw Alex standing behind her. Uh-uh,
she thought. Just go away, little man. I am not in the mood. 

"They're playing our song," she repeated, mocking him. "Are you
auditioning for a part on the new Love Boat?" 

"Ouch," Alex answered. "Don't tell me you don't remember dancing with me
right here in this gym to this song." 

Why is he asking if I remember something that only happened in his dream?
Is he a moron? Or has he been talking to Michael? she thought suddenly. 

She noticed Stacey and Tish listening to their conversation without even
bothering to pretend they weren't. "Fine. I'll dance with you." 

"Your humble love slave thanks you," Alex answered. He pulled her firmly
against him. 

"You heard that?" Isabel asked. She had thought Alex was out of the gym
that time she had made fun of him. 

"Yeah, I heard," Alex said. "I also heard how you like to go into people's
dreams and play little games with them." 

"I'm going to kill Michael." 

"Don't you want to know why your plan didn't work first?" Alex asked. 

Isabel narrowed her eyes at him. "What plan?" 

Alex traced the line of her dress's low back with his finger. She felt a
little shiver rush through her, but she refused to be distracted. "What
plan?" she repeated. 

"Project Homecoming Queen," Alex answered. His fingers moved higher,
sliding under her hair and rubbing the back of her neck. 

Isabel felt as if she were losing the ability to think. But she forced
herself to focus. "You were supposed to vote for me. Every guy in school
was supposed to vote for me." 

Alex leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I'm sure they would have -- if
Michael and I hadn't come up with a counterattack. He went back into all
the guys' dreams and showed them another side of Isabel Evans." 

Isabel pushed back from Alex and glared up at him. "What is that supposed
to mean?" 

"Let's just say most guys find a homecoming queen picking her nose sort of
a turnoff." 

Isabel was speechless. 

Alex continued to grin at her. 

He hadn't. He had! Isabel thought about storming off in a huff. But she
was discovering that Alex had pretty amazing hands -- and she kind of
wanted to see what he'd do with them next. 

*** 

Isabel shot Michael an evil glance. Then she rested her head on Alex's
shoulder and closed her eyes. Michael laughed. It was good for Izzy to get
put in her place once in a while. 

And that night hanging out with Alex had been pretty fun. They had eaten
their way through every flavor of chips -- Michael had dipped his in
chocolate sauce -- while they came up with really gross images of Isabel
to put into the guys' dreams. 

They had done their strategy session in the cave, not at their homes,
because it turned out that Alex's dad was pretty much a jerk, too. 

"Max and Liz look amazing together," Maria said. "He has that whole
blond-Viking thing going, and she has that dark, dark hair and eyes." She
sighed. "Isn't it romantic?" 

"So a guy is sort of like a walking accessory? You just choose one that
looks good with your hair? Is that it?" Michael teased. "Because if it is,
you should be dancing with me. I have that dark, dark hair, and you're
almost blond enough to be a Viking. I can definitely picture you in one of
those helmets with the horns." 

He pulled her out onto the floor. She smelled good. Sweet, like vanilla. 

"Are you sure I'm not too innocent for you?" 

Michael stared down at her. "What are you talking about?" 

"That day at Michael and Isabel's. You said I was too innocent to know all
the ways Valenti could make someone talk," Maria reminded him. 

"You make it sound like I called you something horrible." Michael didn't
get it. 

"Innocent is like cute," Maria insisted. "A word you use for kittens." 

"Well, I hate to tell you this," Michael said, "but I think you're cute,
too." 

Michael pulled her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He
heard her give a little sigh as she snuggled up against him. Just like a
little kitten, he thought. A nice, soft, warm kitten. But he didn't bother
telling her that. 

He glanced at the clock. About twenty minutes to go before we start the
plan. He felt his stomach tense. 

"Are you okay?" Maria mumbled. 

"Yeah." He let himself relax in the sparkling blue of her aura. Yeah, he
was okay. Because no matter what happened, he wouldn't have to face it
alone. 

The connection Max had formed among the six of them in the cave hadn't
completely broken, even though it had been two days. He could still feel
the others around him. It was like he finally had a family. And he would
do whatever it took to protect them -- all of them. 

*** 16 *** 

Maria scanned the gym wildly. Where was Kyle Valenti? She had to find
Kyle, now. 

She spotted him near the stage and ran toward him, pushing people out of
her way. "Kyle, call your dad! Someone stabbed Alex in the neck. He's out
in the parking lot. Hurry!" 

Kyle didn't say a word. He turned around and bolted for the pay phone
against the back wall. 

Half the people in the gym were trying to shove their way over to the big
double doors leading to the parking lot. 

"This way" Liz appeared at Maria's side. She grabbed her hand and dragged
her out the side door. They ran down the hall, their footsteps echoing in
the empty building. They burst out the main entrance and tore over to the
parking lot. 

"Let us through," Maria begged. She and Liz squeezed their way past the
rows of people crowding around Alex. He sat on the ground, a dazed
expression on his face. 

"I thought you said he was stabbed," Liz cried. 

"He was," Maria insisted. But there was no wound on Alex's throat. And the
blood on his skin was already starting to dry. 

"I want all of you back in the gym," a loud voice ordered. Maria didn't
have to look to know that it was Sheriff Valenti. "Now," he barked. 

"I guess we'd better go back," Liz said. "Are you going to be okay?" she
asked Alex. 

"Yeah. Go on." 

*** 

Valenti pushed his way through the retreating crowd. "Do you want to tell
me what's going on?" he asked Alex. "I got a report that you were stabbed,
but that's obviously not what happened. " 

Alex pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the closest car. His
legs felt a little rubbery. "I came outside because the gym was really
hot. Some guy came up from behind me and told me to give him my wallet. I
told him to forget it." 

Valenti made a circling gesture with his hand. He obviously wanted Alex to
get to the point a little faster. 

"The next thing I knew, I was on the ground," Alex said quickly. "He
tackled me, I guess. And then I saw the knife. The guy stabbed me in my
throat. That's all I remember. Maybe I blacked out or something." 

"Do you want to try to explain why you aren't dead?" Valenti asked. "There
are a lot of veins and arteries in the throat, and you're not even
bleeding." 

"I don't know. I guess the guy just nicked me. Maybe I passed out from
fear. Pretty humiliating," Alex answered. 

Valenti shone the flashlight in Alex's face, studying him for a long
moment. Then he moved the beam down onto Alex's throat. 

"You want to tell me the rest of the story?" Valenti asked. 

He saw the mark, Alex thought. He saw the silver handprint. 

"I told you I don't remember," Alex answered. He wished he could see
Valenti's eyes. Who wore sunglasses at night? 

"Will you remember better if I bring you back to my office? We can go back
there and have a nice long talk," Valenti said. 

"You're not going to believe me, all right? What's the point of telling
you?" Alex cried. 

Valenti didn't answer. He just stared at Alex from behind his shades. 

Alex sighed. "Okay, this is what happened. The guy stabbed me in the
throat, and then he ran off because he heard someone pulling into the
parking lot. This other guy came over to me, and he put his hand over the
hole in my neck, and it... it just closed up. So are you going to take me
to the mental ward now?" 

"What did this other guy look like?" Valenti asked. 

"I don't know. I mean, I was bleeding to death. That kind of had my
complete attention." Alex could tell Valenti didn't like that answer, but
he didn't push it. 

"What about the car -- what was he driving?" Valenti demanded. Alex looked
at the ground, thinking. "It was an old green pickup. I saw it when he
pulled back out of the lot. He turned left, heading out of town, I guess.
But shouldn't you be asking me about the guy who tried to kill me?" 

"Later." Valenti turned and strode toward his cruiser. He climbed in and
closed the door with a quiet click, then pulled the car out of the parking
lot and turned left. Heading after the green truck. 

What did I just do? Alex thought. 

*** 

Max heard the high scream of a siren behind them. He glanced over at
Michael. "Valenti," they said together. 

"Let's see what this baby can do," Michael said. 

Max tried to increase his concentration. He could see the molecules that
made up the old truck spinning around them. He shoved them forward --
without letting them break apart -- moving the truck forward with his
mind. 

"You are helping me push, right?" Max asked. 

"No, I'm just here for the ride," Michael shot back. "Of course I'm
helping you push." 

Max checked the rearview mirror. He could see the lights of Valenti's
cruiser in the distance. "Well, push harder. He's gaining on us." If they
didn't make it to the Lake Lee overlook before Valenti caught up to them,
it was all over. 

Max knew fear made it harder to move the car. He took a couple of deep
breaths, the smell of the lake's salt and minerals filling his nose. He
focused completely on the molecules, slamming them forward. 

The truck picked up speed. Max darted a quick glance at the rearview
mirror. Still okay, he thought. The truck bounced and rattled as they sped
down the road to the overlook. 

"Okay, let's do it," Michael yelled. 

Max threw open his door. He heard Michael's door click open at the same
time. The ground rushing past made him dizzy. "Don't look down," he called
to Michael -- and then he jumped. 

Pain shot through his elbow as he landed. He ignored it. He had to
concentrate on keeping the truck moving. It was harder to control the
molecules from a distance, but he gave one last hard shove with his mind.
The truck crashed through the fence and made the eight-story drop into
Lake Lee, landing with a huge splash. 

Michael ran over and pulled Max to his feet. Valenti would reach the
overlook any second -- and they had to be out of sight. 

"How lucky are we to live so close to a bottomless lake?" Michael asked as
they took off. 

Max didn't answer. He wanted all his breath for running. He raced back
toward town until his lungs felt like they were on fire, then he slowed to
a jog. 

"Tired already?" Michael asked. But Max could hear him panting. 

"Thought I'd give you a chance to rest," Max answered. They kept their
pace at a fast jog all the way back to the school parking lot. 

Before they headed into the gym, Max ran his fingers through his hair and
brushed the dirt off his pants and shirt. His jacket would hide his
sweat-soaked shirt. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. 

"Aw, do you want to look nice for Liz?" Michael asked. 

Max slapped the dirt off Michael's back. "We want everyone to think we've
been here the whole time, remember?" He led the way back to the gym. In
two seconds Liz, Isabel, Maria, and Alex were gathered around them. M 

"So did it work?" Liz asked. 

"Right now Valenti should be standing at the edge of the cliff, crying
about the alien that got away," Michael answered. 

"Good going," Alex said. 

Max could see relief and happiness swirling in all their auras. The
connection between the six of them was so strong that the edges of their
auras blended, forming one brilliantly colored ring around all of them. 

"We did it," Max said. "It took all of us, but we did it." 

*** 

Liz knew she was staring at Max, but she couldn't help it. She needed to
keep reassuring herself that he was really okay. If Valenti had caught him
out there in the desert, Liz might never have seen Max again. A world
without Max. That was not a place she'd want to live. 

Max leaned close to her. "Do you feel like getting some air?" he asked in
her ear. 

"You read my mind," Liz answered. She couldn't wait to be alone with Max.
"We'll be back in a little while," she told the others. 

"Take your time," Maria answered. Michael laughed. 

I guess everyone noticed the way we were sort of all over each other on
the dance floor, Liz thought as they headed outside. But so what? She
didn't care who knew how she felt about Max. She didn't know exactly when
it had happened -- whether it was when they had sat together at the bird
sanctuary and he told her about his childhood; or when he had let her
connect to him, allowing her to access his uncensored thoughts; or when
she had seen the deep green of his aura in the cave and felt the deep,
pure goodness of him; or maybe it was watching him cure the little mouse
that had done it -- but somehow, somewhere she had fallen in love with
him. 

Max led the way over to one of the benches in the quad, and they sat down
next to each other. Liz expected him to kiss her again or at least hold
her hand. But he kept staring down at the ground, his expression serious. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Are you worried that Valenti won't
believe the alien he's looking for is dead?" 

"No, Michael came up with a good plan. I think it worked. Valenti's never
going to be able to recover the truck, so he'll never find out no one was
inside," Max answered, but he still wouldn't look at her. 

Liz reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek. "I just need to touch
you. I need to make sure that you're really back. I was so worried about
you." 

She took a deep breath. She had to tell him how she felt about him. "We've
been friends for so long that I think I just sort of took you for granted.
I knew you were smart. I knew you were a great guy, that you were always
thinking about other people. Remember how you used to pick Maria to be on
your softball team every single time?" 

Max nodded, but something felt off, Liz thought. He seemed distracted,
distant. Of course he's distracted. He just risked his life to keep
Valenti away from all of us. 

Liz decided to keep going. It would be a lot harder to start this
conversation all over again later. "Anyway, I knew all these things about
you, but I never thought about how I'd feel if you weren't around. I'd
feel bad. Well, of course I would feel bad. Why is this so hard?" Liz
stopped and closed her eyes a moment. "Let me just get to the point. I
love you, Max." 

Enough talking, she thought. She leaned toward him. It felt like forever
since their last kiss. She needed to feel his arms around her. 

Max stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Michael's plan worked,"
he said, repeating himself. "But I'm always going to be in danger. There's
always going to be someone out there hunting for me -- Valenti or somebody
else." 

Liz shivered in the cold night air. She wrapped her arms around herself.
She knew Max loved her, too. She'd seen it in his thoughts, felt it in the
way he touched her. What was wrong? Why was he acting so strangely? 

"If you get too close to me, you're going to be in danger, too," Max said
in a rush. "I think... I think we should stay friends. Just friends." 

Liz jumped up. "Max, we found a way to deal with Valenti. We did that
together -- all of us. If something else happens, if someone else gets
close to finding out the truth, we'll deal with that, too," she told him,
her voice tense and urgent. "I love you. I want to be with you. Nothing
else matters." 

Max's arms were around her before she could say another word. He buried
his face in her hair. "We can't -- ," he half said, half moaned. Then his
lips found her mouth. They kissed, a long, passionate, heart-searing kiss.

He loves me! Liz thought giddily. He loves me, too. 

Suddenly Max broke away. "No. It's more important to me to keep you safe."
He stared into her eyes, his expression serious. "I'm not going to change
my mind about this, Liz. It's too important." He released his urgent grip
on her shoulders. 

Liz stared back at him, his intense blue eyes, his rumpled hair, the line
of his jaw. She could tell that nothing she said was going to change his
mind right now. 

Max turned and stumbled away from her. 

Liz felt stunned. But she wasn't going to give up -- not now that she'd
finally realized how she felt about him. She and Max were meant to be
together here, now -- and she was going to find a way to prove it to him,
no matter what.