Alex didn't even have to look to know how tense Michael had become. Although the alien's face remained stoic, Alex knew him well enough by now to tell that he was not happy with Mark's presence. His hands were curved inwards, just a step away from clenched, and his chin was set stubbornly. Thankfully he didn't say anything; he just crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Melanie to speak.
Unfortunately, the actor spoke first. "I see you brought in the cavalry," he commented with a nod in Alex's direction. "Too scared to talk to a girl by yourself, Guerin?"
Great. Looked like Mark wasn't too happy with Michael either. But Michael didn't so much as blink in response to the senior's goading. Alex let out a mental cheer and remained where he was. The only one who reacted was Melanie, who looked up with a frown on her face. "Oh, come on, Mark. Be nice." She lifted her eyes to Michael. "Thank you for meeting me. I need to talk to you about the notes."
Raising one eyebrow, Michael waited impatiently for her to continue.
She hesitated. "Maria and Alex wouldn't tell me anything yesterday, but...the notes you showed me, the ones you thought I wrote...someone's been leaving them for Maria?" At Michael's brief nod, she shook her head. "I didn't lie yesterday. I hadn't seen them before. But..." She paused. "I recognized the handwriting. I think Pamela Harris wrote them. And...and it's my fault."
"Why?" Michael ground out.
Melanie flushed. "We were both kind of mad when Maria came out of nowhere and got the lead in Little Shop," she began. "I mean, we've worked our way up from chorus roles over the last three years, and Pamela...well, she really thought that it was her year."
Scowling, Michael burst out, "So Maria got to be harassed and threatened all over a part in a stupid play?"
"I told you. He just doesn't get it," Mark put in.
"Well, why don't you explain it to me then?" challenged Michael, taking an angry step towards the actor. "Tell me how you can justify what's been done to her."
This wasn't getting them anywhere. Alex stepped between them. "Okay, guys, let's take it down a notch and let Melanie finish, all right?"
His mouth in a thin line, Michael resumed his former position, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"It's not just the play," Melanie admitted. "See, Pamela used to go out with Mark, but they broke up over the summer. Well, he broke up with her. But since then, she's acted like they were still together, when he was really seeing..." Her voice trailed off.
"You," said Michael bluntly.
She looked startled, but nodded. "Yes. And I didn't want to tell her, because, well, she's my friend, and you shouldn't go poaching your friend's exes, but, well, Mark and I get along really well, and it just...happened."
Michael studied her for a moment. "And Maria got dragged into this because..." he said leadingly.
"Because Pamela saw Mark with another girl, but she was too far away to tell it was me, and when she told me about it, I..."
Michael's voice was cold. "You told her it was Maria."
"Yes," Melanie whispered.
"And Pamela started her little hate campaign."
"Yes. But I didn't know that until yesterday. If I had, I would have told her it was me. Honestly." Michael didn't look convinced.
Remembering Maria's fall down the stairs, Alex spoke up. "You know Pamela the best. Would she act on any of the threats? You know, try and get revenge?"
Melanie shook her head rapidly. "Oh, no. She talks big but she doesn't really act on things, you know?"
Alex exchanged a look with Michael, and the alien said slowly, "So why didn't you tell me all this yesterday?"
"Because you scared the shit out of her, you jackass!" Mark shouted.
Melanie nodded, more calmly than her erstwhile boyfriend. "You did. You can be kind of...intimidating, you know? But then this afternoon, when I heard that you and Maria were together, it all made a lot more sense."
"When you heard what?" Michael said softly, a hard look in his eyes.
"When I heard about the two of you," she faltered. "Everyone's talking about it. And then I understood why you were so angry when you thought I wrote the notes."
"We're not together." Michael ground out.
"But--"
Alex cut her off. "Look, this is about what happened at lunch today, isn't it? You know how the West Roswell gossip mill can get things blown out of proportion. Mark was there. He can tell you what really happened." He wasn't too happy about leaving Maria hanging up to dry, her feelings exposed, but he wasn't sure how much longer Michael was going to be able to handle this particular topic of conversation.
Melanie just looked confused. "So you two aren't seeing each other?" she asked Michael.
Between gritted teeth, he forced out, "No."
"Well, maybe you should be," said Mark.
Michael rounded on him. "What? You were the one telling me to stay away from her, all for the sake of your precious play!" Alex looked at Mark, startled. No wonder Michael disliked him.
With a shrug, Mark explained, "Well, maybe I was wrong. She's so fixated on you, maybe your staying away would be more of a distraction than your hanging around."
"She is not fixated!" Michael hissed.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Mark drawled. "But go ahead. Get back together. It might be for the best."
Alex winced. Not the best way to handle an angry, able-to-blow-you-up-with-his-mind alien. Of course, Mark didn't know that was who he was ordering around. One move of Michael's hand, and the actor could be toast.
And then Michael did shoot out his right hand. Alex watched in shock; he had just been kidding about blowing Mark up. But all the alien did was grab Mark by the shirt front, pulling him closer so he could shout in his face. "I didn't stay away from her because of what you said, and I'm not listening to you now, either! I don't give a damn for your stupid play, hear me?"
"Michael," Alex said in warning.
The alien paid him no heed. "Maria is not someone to be manipulated in order to get a good performance out of her. She has feelings. She deserves better than that!" He shoved the senior away, releasing his shirt. Mark stumbled backward for a few steps, but finally caught his balance.
"Mark?" Melanie whispered. "Did you really do that? Try and tell people what to do, and how to feel?"
"Yeah, so what?" he answered, straightening his collar. "You want the play to be good, don't you?"
She looked up at him, a crease between her eyebrows. "You know what?" she finally said. "You should go back to Pamela. I think you two deserve each other." With that, she staunchly turned her back on him.
"Come on, Mel," he began, but was cut off by one word.
"Go," she ordered. He stood there for a moment, not quailing under the glares from Michael and Alex. Then, with a shrug, he went.
Alex turned and looked at the two people still standing with him in the hall. He didn't miss the fact that, even with Mark gone, Michael fairly bristled with anger. Better get rid of Melanie first, then deal with Michael. That seemed like the best option. But before he could speak, Michael turned abruptly to the girl. "Do you know Pamela's class schedule?"
"Yes," she answered, startled.
"What's her last class of the day?"
"Spanish. Why?"
Michael turned to Alex, ignoring her question. "Which staircase did Maria fall down?"
"I'm not sure," Alex answered. "I could ask her. Or Liz or Max would know."
Melanie interrupted. "Wait a minute. Maria fell down some stairs? And why did you need to know Pame--Oh my god. You think she had something to do with it?" she gasped. "No way. I told you, she wouldn't act on anything. The notes I can believe, but that she would...No. No way. When did it happen?"
Michael looked to Alex for the answer. "It was a Tuesday," the teen answered. He racked his brain. "Tuesday a couple of weeks ago."
Melanie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. Then she crouched on the floor and started rummaging through her backpack. A moment later she triumphantly pulled out a student planner and stood. "Was this the Tuesday before Halloween?" she asked in an urgent tone, flipping through the pages of the planner. Alex nodded.
"Then Pamela couldn't have had anything to do with Maria's fall," she said. "That day was the trip to the state capitol in Santa Fe. It was for Government class; all the seniors went. We barely got back in time for rehearsal that afternoon. We went straight from the bus the auditorium." She looked up at Michael. "Are you sure she didn't just fall?"
Michael looked away, not answering. Seeing the tense set of the alien's shoulders, Alex went back to his original plan: get rid of Melanie and then deal with Michael. "Thanks for telling us about the notes, Melanie," he said. "We'll tell Maria about them." He hesitated, then continued, "We will need to confront Pamela, you know."
She nodded, speaking quietly. "I know. Ummm...I think I'm going to head home now. See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Alex. Goodbye, Michael."
Alex watched her walk down the hallway. After a moment, Michael spoke without looking in his direction. "You can tell Maria about the notes but you can't tell her about Mark," he said hoarsely.
"What?" asked Alex, turning towards him.
"The play is the best thing in her life right now. And she likes him. She thinks he's a friend. We can't ruin it for her by telling her how he...used her."
Alex objected. There had been too many secrets already. "She has the right to know."
Michael's eyes met his. "She's having a good time with it. Don't take that away from her, Alex. She deserves it."
Alex studied him, then decided. "I won't tell her before the show closes. If you'll promise to tell her afterwards."
Michael ran a hand across his face. "I can't. You know that!"
"Why not?" Alex questioned reasonably.
"I just can't, Alex. Don't make me give you a promise I know I can't keep."
There was a pause as Alex closed his eyes before speaking. "All right. I'll tell her. And I'll wait until the play is over."
"Good." With a shake of his head, Michael began to pace up and down the hallway. Alex watched as he struggled with whatever was going on in his head, figuring that the alien would tell him when he was ready to. Finally, Michael spoke. "Tell Maria and the others about the notes. You'll have to figure out how you want to approach Pamela." He grimaced. "I'm sure Maria will have some ideas."
Alex looked at him in surprise. "What? You're the one who's been so gung ho on identifying the stalker, and now you're going to wash your hands of it all? I figured you'd want to approach Pamela yourself."
"I can't, Alex! Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now? I could barely keep a lid on things long enough not to decimate that jerk. Why do you think I wanted you here in the first place? I can't control this. Hell, I could very easily snap and take you out right now."
Alex looked at him calmly. "You're not going to do that."
Running both hands through his hair, Michael squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I'm not. But I could, so easily." His mouth tightened. "Just tell them, all right? I gotta...I gotta get out of here."
Alex watched in concern as Michael stalked down the hall towards the door, barely stopping long enough to punch out a locker on his way. With a shake of his head, Alex headed back into the empty auditorium to get his bass and amp, mentally rehearsing the upcoming discussion he needed to have with the others.
* * * * *
The next day didn't go quite as planned.
For Alex, who'd figured he'd have to keep a watchful eye on Michael, the day was a pleasant surprise. Michael wasn't exactly communicative, but he wasn't bursting with wrath either. He seemed to have gotten over the anger of the previous night. Either that, or he was controlling it by drawing inwards. Anyway, Alex didn't think he had to worry about Michael suddenly going on a rampage and taking out Mark Blumenthal.
For Michael, who had gone to school with a renewed determination to avoid Maria, the day was, in a weird way, kind of a letdown. He could hardly avoid her when she was avoiding him first. When she didn't look at him, he could stare freely at her. When she didn't speak, he could still hear her voice in his memory, saying his name. Somehow the fact that she was making it easy on him to ignore her made it even harder instead.
And for Maria, who was herself pretty pissed off, the day was an ordeal of waiting. Waiting until after rehearsal, when she could face off with the simpering moron known as Pamela Harris and put her straight for the last time.
Alex had called and told her what had happened, and they'd all gathered at lunch so they could discuss the situation more fully. Well, all but Michael, of course. God forbid that he should actually be a part of their discussion. She shook her head. No, she was being too hard on him. From what Alex had said, he was going through yet another trauma--anger issues this time--and while she would be there to support him if she could, he wouldn't let her.
So she'd done the only other thing she could think of. She'd left him alone. It seemed to be what he wanted, so she'd done it. Part of her was almost grateful to Pamela for starting the whole note thing in the first place; at least it gave Maria something to think about other than Michael Guerin. She actually kind of looked forward to the confrontation that was coming.
Of course, that didn't work out quite as she'd expected, either.
The main obstacle was a dark-haired woman who showed up shortly before rehearsal was over and took a seat in the house, waiting for them to finish. Noticing Pamela give a little wave to the woman, Maria sidled up to Melanie as the cast gathered for notes. "Who's that?" she whispered.
"Pamela's mother," Melanie explained. "She came to pick her up. They're driving to T or C for her grandmother's seventieth birthday this weekend."
"They're leaving from here?" Maria asked. Melanie nodded, and Maria let out a sigh. So much for the big confrontation. And it wasn't going to happen over the weekend either; it was going to have to wait until Monday. Glancing over at Alex she shook her head, trying to clue him in on the change in plans. She'd gotten all geared up for it, and now, nothing. Darn it, why was Liz the one with all the patience? Why couldn't it be a DeLuca family trait instead? This was going to drive her nuts, if everything else in her life didn't do it first.
The moment Ms. Bedinger was done giving notes, Maria headed directly for the orchestra pit. "It's not going to happen today," she told Alex in a whisper. "That woman over there? It's Pamela's mother. She came to pick her up, and they're going to be gone all weekend. We're going to have to wait until Monday."
Alex nodded in understanding. "You okay?"
"I'll have to be, won't I?" was Maria's rejoinder. She sighed. "Oh well, let me get out of this costume and I'll come help you lug your stuff," she offered.
Once in the room that was serving as the girl's dressing room, it didn't take her long to slip out of the negligee and nightgown and into the jeans and sweater she'd worn to school that day. She was thankful that at this point all they were working with was costumes, and not makeup and hair, or she'd be there forever trying to get all the goop off her face. She didn't say anything to the other three girls who were also changing. She was tempted for a while to give in to her impulses and confront Pamela right then and there in the dressing room, but she knew better than to start something she wouldn't have time to finish. This was between the two of them; she didn't need Mrs. Harris becoming involved. After all, she hadn't told her own mother about the notes, so why would she tell Pamela's?
She would just have to wait for Monday, that's all, when she'd have a chance to face Pamela on her own. Actually, she was a little surprised that Michael didn't want in on the confrontation. He'd certainly been acting belligerent enough, according to Alex. But then again, also according to Alex, he was having trouble controlling his anger. So it was actually pretty smart to leave it to her. She was proud that he believed she could handle it. She knew she could, but it was nice to have Michael's support too, even if it was indirect and unspoken.
Picking up her bag, she slung it over her shoulder so she could carry Alex's bass case, leaving him free to tote the amp. He was taking them both home rather than leaving them in the band room over the weekend. She waited for him to finish packing up, and tried to ignore Pamela's re-entrance into the house. The girl had taken longer to get ready, evidently choosing to primp for her trip. Maria gritted her teeth. All she had to do was to refrain from temptation. She needed to wait until Monday. She could do that, couldn't she?
"You ready, honey?" she overheard Mrs. Harris ask her daughter. Maria made no special effort to avoid hearing the conversation. After all, she wasn't eavesdropping when they were speaking out loud in public with people around them, right? Not that she cared what Pamela Harris had to say, anyway. Still, she watched out of the corner of her eye and half listened to the girl as she answered her mother. Maria's ears pricked up, though, when Pamela asked her mother how she'd liked the show.
"I didn't see much," Mrs. Harris answered. "It seems to be going well. I'm a little confused, though, about the plant puppets. They weren't what I expected. I thought the school was renting them from the theatrical supply company that your cousin Barry works for. Wasn't he able to cut them a good enough deal?"
Maria took careful note of Pamela's reaction; the senior glanced around her nervously before responding. "I guess not. Let's go, okay?"
After the two Harrises left, Maria turned to Alex. "Did you hear that?" she demanded.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, didn't it seem a little odd to you that Pamela's related to the guy who was going to supply the plants? Do you think the deal really fell through, or do you think she tried to sabotage the show?"
"Melanie told us that Pamela wasn't really big on action, just talk," Alex reminded her.
"I know, but don't you think it's odd?" Maria repeated. "Looks like I have another question for dear old Pamela. Is it Monday yet?"
* * * * *
"This is ridiculous," Maria grumbled as she joined Liz at the counter of the Crashdown. "I mean, every time we seem to make some progress, something gets in the way." Liz looked at her sympathetically as Maria continued, "T or C, Melanie said. Pamela's spending the weekend in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, of all places! I tell you, Liz, when she gets back she'd better tell me the truth, or I'll give her some consequences to deal with!"
Liz couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Maria looked at her sheepishly. "I know. I'm just blowing off some steam, that's all."
"Yeah, that's the impression I got," Liz teased. She looked up as the front door opened and Max, Isabel and Alex entered. "So look who's come to pay a call."
"Did you set this up, Liz?" Maria asked.
"I did. Since you can't come to us, I thought we'd come to you. Of course, my parents are fully aware of your grounding, so if anyone asks, they just came in for a late supper."
"You are devious, chica!" Maria said with a grin. "I never knew you had it in you."
"Well, being friends with Czechoslovakians will do that to you. They're sitting in your section. Don't you think you should go take their order?" Liz asked, gently pushing the blonde towards the booth where the three sat.
"Hey, guys," Maria greeted them with a smile. "Got nothing better to do with your Friday night than hang out at the old Crashdown, huh?"
"I thought we should talk about an idea Max and I had," said Isabel, getting straight to the point. "Liz suggested the place, since you're not really mobile."
"What's going on?" said Maria, handing them menus.
Max pretended to peruse the menu as he spoke. "I'm assuming you've heard about Pamela Harris's alibi for the day you broke your ankle, right?" Maria nodded. "Since we ruled her out, we thought that maybe one of us could connect with you and get a vision of what really happened. See if someone really did push you, or if..."
"If I was just being clumsy," Maria finished for him. "It could have been that. I don't know. It all happened so fast," she admitted. "So, which one of you is going to play psychic?"
"I will," said Isabel. "I've already connected with you several times, so maybe it will make it easier."
"And we've either got to do it here, or wait until school on Monday, since we can't see you at your place," Max put in.
"I know. Rub it in, why don't you?" said Maria, but her smile made it very clear she was teasing. "I've got a break in a little while. We can do it then."
"Do what?" asked Liz as she crossed over to the booth and slid in beside Alex.
"Isabel's going to try and read me to see if my broken ankle was an accident or not," Maria answered. "We're going to try it on my break."
Liz thought this over. "Where are you going to do it? The back room's too open, and you can't go upstairs. My parents are up there."
"Well, you know what they say," Alex joked. "Women always go to the bathroom in pairs."
Maria laughed, but said, "Okay. Bathroom it is. Now, since I'm not on my break yet, what can I get you?" She took their orders and headed back over to the counter to give them to Jos�. After that, the Friday night crowd kept her pretty busy, but she finally was able to nod to Isabel and head to the bathroom. The alien followed her in, locking the door behind them.
"Are you ready?" Isabel asked.
"What exactly do I have to do?"
"Just try and concentrate on what happened the day you fell. I'll connect and see if I can get a flash of it. We don't usually control what we pick up, but it's worth a try."
Maria obediently closed her eyes, trying to recapture the feeling of falling down the stairs. She was only partially aware of Isabel holding her hand. She hoped that this would be easier than the last time one of the aliens connected with her, when Michael had opened up to her and shown her some of his life. For a moment, she thought about Michael, wondering what he was doing, but then ruthlessly pulled her mind back to the subject at hand. She had to think about her accident. Stairs, falling, that sort of thing.
She opened her eyes as Isabel spoke her name softly. "Did it work?" she asked the taller girl, who was looking at her with an odd expression in her eyes.
"It worked," Isabel answered, sounding pleased. "Let's go back out there and I'll tell everyone about it."
Maria followed Isabel to the table, anxious to hear what the alien had seen. Liz joined them.
"Well, it was an accident," Isabel said bluntly. "No one pushed you."
Maria shook her head. "I don't know whether to be relieved that no one pushed me, or depressed that I was that big of a klutz," she commented.
"Be happy," Liz said. "Your problem is reduced to nasty notes. We don't have to worry about your health any more."
"And no more all-night stakeouts for Michael," Alex added.
"He hasn't been doing them anyway," said Maria. "He's too busy avoiding me, remember?"
Max smiled at her. "I think it's more that he's avoiding your mother, Maria. But at least he's getting more sleep now. I think he looks much more rested, don't you, Iz?" She didn't answer, staring at the table in front of her, lost in thought. Her brother repeated her name, and she looked up. "Where were you?" he teased.
She frowned, and then looked over at Maria. "I didn't just see the accident when we connected. I saw something else."
"What?" Maria asked with some trepidation.
"I saw you and Michael in the desert. And I saw...Pierce. His body, anyway."
Maria nodded, enlightened. "You saw part of the dream Michael and I had last week. Didn't he tell you about it?"
"We never asked him," Max admitted.
"It was pretty freaky," Maria told them. "Pierce's body was buried in the sand, and Michael healed him and he turned into this bright light. I'm thinking that part of the dream came from Michael, not me."
"Maybe his subconscious is trying to deal with Pierce's death," Alex suggested. "That's been weighing pretty heavily on his mind, hasn't it?"
Maria nodded. "I just hope he can come to terms with what happened. Because it's tearing him up inside."
* * * * *
Max Evans was sound asleep early Sunday morning when the pounding started. He pulled the covers over his head, trying to ignore it, but it didn't go away. Finally with a sigh, he climbed out of bed and headed for the window. Unlatching it and shoving it open, he turned away and headed back for bed without bothering to look outside. He didn't have to; who else would be banging on his window at this hour? "What is it, Michael?" he mumbled. "It's six in the morning."
"I know," his friend said unrepentantly. "I need to talk to you."
This in itself was enough to bring Max fully awake and to a sitting position. "What's up?"
Michael didn't meet his eyes. "I'm going away."
"What?" Max burst out. "You can't, Michael. Running won't fix things. We need you here and--"
Michael cut him off. "Cool your jets, Maxwell. I'm not leaving for good. I just need to get away for a little while. I..." He swallowed, then continued slowly as if searching for words, "I feel like I'm losing control of things. I need to get myself back together. Figure out some stuff."
"Why can't you do that here? Let us help you. We all want to."
"That's just the problem! I need to sort some things out and I can't do it while I'm worrying about hurting someone."
"You mean Maria?" Max asked gently.
"No," Michael denied, then shook his head. "Well, yes, but not just her. Are you forgetting I almost blew you up a couple of weeks ago? And I could barely control my temper around Alex the other night." His voice dropped. "And the other day...I nearly...I almost killed this guy I hardly even know."
"You used your powers on him?" Max asked in disbelief.
"No. Just my hands. But I almost killed him anyway." Michael ran a hand over his eyes and then stared at it a moment before letting his arm drop. He finally met Max's glance, his face bleak. "I need to get away for a while. Get things under control somewhere where I can't hurt anyone. I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose any of them."
"What about Maria?"
Tensing, Michael looked away. "What about her?"
"You're giving up on protecting her?" Max asked with raised eyebrows.
Michael looked at him in surprise. "I figured Alex would've told you about that."
"He did. But tell me anyway. I want to hear what you think."
"We're pretty sure Pamela Harris wrote the notes, the chick from Maria's play. It's nothing Czechoslovakian, just a stupid human thing. It was petty, but it's not dangerous."
"What about the feeling you got from the sketch, that Maria was in danger?"
"I guess I was wrong, then. Just another patented Michael Guerin screw-up," Michael retorted. "Look Maxwell, I'm sure Maria and Alex have things under control. She can handle it. And even if she couldn't, I'm not of any use here until I can control myself." His eyes begged for understanding from his friend.
"Where will you go?" a voice said from behind them. Michael turned, startled, to see a pajama-clad Isabel standing tensely in the doorway. "Once again your pounding woke me up," she explained. "You need to start using your powers on the locks again, Michael. So where are you going?" she asked again, her voice taut.
"Not far," he assured her. "I thought I'd hole up in the pod cave for a little while."
She relaxed somewhat, knowing that he wasn't going to be out of reach. "How long?"
"I don't know. Coupla days? A week maybe? However long it takes, I guess."
"You'll need supplies," she commented, her mind working busily.
"That's why I'm here." He turned to Max. "I wanted to know if I could borrow your sleeping bag."
"Of course you can," Max assured him with a slight smile. "You've used it more than I ever have anyway."
Michael shrugged, not particularly wanting to think about all the nights he'd spent using Max's room as an escape from Hank's place.
"You'll need food and water," Isabel pointed out.
"I've got that all covered."
Max studied him. "When are you going?" he asked.
"I gotta work today. That's why I'm here so early. Thought I'd head out there this afternoon, after I get off."
"We'll drive you."
"You don't need to."
"We'll drive you," Max repeated firmly.
Michael nodded again, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Gotta go," he finally said, and headed back toward the window. Isabel followed him, slowly closing the window behind him, before turning and sitting beside her brother.
"I wish we could do something," she said softly. "It isn't fair. He's gotten the short end of the stick with the whole human side of things all his life, and now the alien side keeps causing problems...Why can't things just work out for him once in a while, Max? Why can't he be happy? I hate this. I hate to see him hurting."
Max put an arm around his sister. "I know, Izzy. I know."
CHAPTER 49
"Okay, where is he?" Maria demanded as she sat down at the cafeteria table where the Evans siblings, Alex and Liz were sitting. "He wasn't in English this morning, and I haven't felt him around. So is he cutting school or what?"
Max and Isabel exchanged a wary glance, which did not get past Maria. "Come on, guys. You know I have to rely on you for news about Michael these days, since he's not willing to let me be a part of his life. I have to live vicariously through the rest of you. So indulge me. What's he up to?"
"I'd say a little over six feet," quipped Alex. Isabel gave one of her patented eye rolls and Liz chuckled. Maria, however, didn't give in.
"Come on. Where is he?" she demanded.
"He's taking a little break, Maria," Max answered, his tone serious.
"A break? From what? School? Roswell? His Czechoslovakian status? What?"
"All of that, actually. He needed to get away for a while."
Maria frowned. "Is he okay?"
"We hope so," Isabel put in. "But you know Michael. Sometimes he can be pretty hard to read."
Maria nodded, understanding that completely. "So you know where he is?"
"Yes," she answered. "Max and I took him there." Isabel waited for Maria to demand Michael's location, bracing herself to refuse to tell. Michael was adamant about needing to be alone. It had only been through constant badgering on the trip to the pod cave that he'd allowed her to force her cell phone on him so he could call when he was ready to come back to civilization. He'd finally accepted it, more to shut her up than anything else. She suspected it would remain turned off until he was ready to return.
Maria surprised her, though. All she said was "Okay then." At least until she caught Isabel's startled look; then she explained, "I know he's been avoiding me, and I'm not going to force myself on him when he's trying to deal with other things. You two know where he is, and I trust you with him." A thought occurred to her and a speculative look crossed her face. "Besides, if I really wanted to know, I could probably track him down with my Michael-radar anyway. It might take me a while, but I'll bet I could do it."
She gave Isabel a rueful smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to. He wants to be alone right now. For once, he should get what he wants." With a sigh, she added, "I won't tell you I don't hate it, though."
Liz reached across the table and squeezed her hand as Max spoke slowly. "I don't know that it's what he really wants, Maria," he said, "but I think it's what he needs. Just give him some time, okay?"
She nodded, and then deliberately changed the subject. "So, who wants to come watch me take Pamela Harris down a couple of pegs this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully. "I've been gearing up for it all weekend. It should be quite a show."
"Can't turn down the possibility of a good cat fight," Alex joked. "I'd take bets, but for some strange reason, no one wants to wager against Hurricane DeLuca here."
With a glare of mock reproof, Maria shot back, "Gee, Alex, I sure appreciate your confidence in me. I think." She raised an eyebrow. "I could leave Pamela to you, if you'd rather."
Alex grinned. "What? And miss out on the bout of the century? No way. I'll just keep my ringside seat, thanks."
"What exactly are you planning to do, Maria?" Liz asked.
Maria pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I do happen to have this giant Acme anvil that I never got to use on a certain ornery Czechoslovakian," she mused, then laughed. "Just kidding. Actually, I'm just going to talk to her. Set her straight on a few things, ask a few questions...see if we can behave reasonably for once."
Isabel smiled and drew a few familiar looking pieces of notebook paper from her purse. "You might want these, to back you up," she said, handing over the sketch and notes. "Michael gave them back. He thought they might be helpful."
So he hadn't forgotten her completely. A feeling of happiness warmed Maria, but she didn't comment on it. She merely accepted the papers, saying with a grin, "They might. And if they don't work, I can always go back to the anvil, can't I?"
* * * * *
Anvil noticeably absent, Maria rushed down the hall towards the girls' dressing room. Her intention was to get in costume and on stage quickly, avoiding the temptation to confront Pamela before rehearsal began. She was determined not to let the witch spoil the rehearsal for her; there would be plenty of time to deal with her afterwards. Setting down her bookbag, she slipped out of her shoes and padded over to the costume rack for the formfitting midnight blue dress that she wore at the beginning of the show.
Except it wasn't there.
With a frown, she sorted through the garments on the rack. Part of her wasn't at all surprised to find that none of her costumes were there. She could buy one being missing; maybe Megan had taken it to fix a hem or something. But all of them? She knew in her gut that there was a reason for this, and the reason's name was Pamela Harris.
Okay. This was the final straw. It was bad enough for the spiteful witch to single-handedly harass her, but the costumes weren't even her property. Some came from the school's costume closet, and one was rented. Pam Harris was going to be sorry for this. But first, Maria had to find the costumes, before Pamela and her snotty entourage arrived at the dressing room.
Gritting her teeth, she searched through the small room, with no luck. Her mind churned. She knew she'd hung them up on the rack after Friday's rehearsal. And Pamela was gone all weekend, so she couldn't have absconded with them then, especially with no Czechoslovakian superpowers to enable her to undo the locks on the school doors. So it had to have been today, sometime during class or at lunch.
Trying to decide where to look next, Maria moved slowly into the hallway. Pamela wouldn't have thrown the costumes away; it was too likely someone would see them in the trash and think it was odd. Too easy to be found out that way. No, they had to be somewhere where no one would find them at all, or where they wouldn't be given a second thought if they were seen. Maria frowned again.
"What's wrong?" came a voice from behind, startling her. She turned to see Isabel Evans standing, looking at her curiously. The alien must be on her way out to the parking lot, Maria thought irrelevantly. Quickly she explained the missing costumes, adding, "I've got to find them. Fast. Rehearsal will start soon, and I need to be there, in costume, when it does. I will not let Pamela Harris get the best of me."
"I'll help you look," Isabel immediately offered. "Any ideas where?"
"Someplace where no one would notice them if they saw them," Maria said, picking back up where her thoughts had left off. "Somewhere nearby. She wouldn't have been able to go very far without being seen, otherwise."
"The best place to hide clothes is with other clothes. You know, hide them in plain sight," Isabel ventured.
"Like in the costume storage room," said Maria as the idea struck her. "There's a ton of stuff in there. What are a few more costumes stuck in the middle?"
Together, they headed backstage to the small room, jam-packed with garments of every color and description. "I'm surprised Megan was able to find anything in here," Maria commented. "This place is a mess."
"What exactly are we looking for?" Isabel asked. Maria described the costumes, and together they started going through the racks. Maria had hastily scrambled through three racks' worth of garments and was trying to push her way past a fourth rack next to the wall to see if anything was jammed in behind it when Isabel spoke.
"Does the negligee have marabou trim on it?"
Poking her head out from behind a rack of assorted coats and dresses, Maria looked over at Isabel. The alien had crossed back to the doorway and was standing, peering behind the open door. "Because if so, I think I found them."
Maria quickly disentangled herself from a 1980's-style prom dress that had evidently been recycled as a period ball gown and joined Isabel. Her heart sank as she took in the pile of clothing that was jammed behind the door. Slowly she bent down and sorted through it; it was all there, down to the leopard-print high heels she wore in the beginning of Act II. The shoes had fared okay, but the dresses and negligee were wadded up into a ball, heavily creased. Even the yellow rain slicker looked wrinkled--a real feat, since it was made of vinyl.
"Fantastic," she muttered, holding up one of the abused dresses. "Pamela has finally managed to make me look bad."
"Not if we don't let her," Isabel said firmly. "Which one do you wear first?" Maria pointed out the blue dress. Shutting the door, Isabel ordered, "Put it on so we can see how bad it is. There's not a lot of time before rehearsal, right?" Maria looked at her for a moment, taking in the glint of challenge in her eyes, then quickly scrambled out of her clothes and into the dress. After pulling up the zipper, Isabel told her to hold still, and slowly ran her hand over the worst of the wrinkles. In moments, the front of the dress looked pristine.
"Boy, who needs an iron with you around?" Maria joked, gazing down at herself. "Okay, I am now officially jealous of you and your powers."
"Would you really want everything that comes with them?" Isabel asked in a dry tone, working on the back of the dress. "Because I can't tell you how many times I've wished I were a normal human. I wouldn't give up Max or Michael for anything, but sometimes I can't help imagining what my life would be like if things were different."
"Yeah. I know what you mean," Maria said softly. "The grass is always greener on the other person's planet, right?"
Isabel smiled. "Something like that. Now, which shoes go with this?" Maria grabbed them and pulled them on. "You go ahead--you don't have much time. I'll get the rest of these fixed up and sneak them back into the dressing room once Pamela is on stage," Isabel offered.
"Thanks!" Maria cried, turning around and giving the startled alien a quick hug. "You're a great friend, Isabel." She did a little happy dance. "Oh, this is just going to kill her," Maria breathed. "I can't wait to see her face when I walk in wearing this!"
Grinning at her antics, Isabel pushed her towards the door. "Go on, get out there already."
Maria headed across the backstage area, intent on getting to the stage before Pamela saw the direction she was coming from. Heading around the flats that served as the flower shop walls, now fixed firmly in place, she found the rest of the cast standing on the stage. The three doo-wop girls were pulled aside in their own little group, their backs to her. They didn't notice her approaching.
"It's really irresponsible of her," she heard Pamela say over the sounds of the combo warming up. "Rehearsal is supposed to start in a few minutes, and no one's seen her. By the time she gets ready, we'll be running late, and Ms. Bedinger absolutely hates that. Poor Maria," she said in a falsely sympathetic tone. "She is really going to be in for it. Well, that's what you get when you cast someone totally inexperienced. If I had the lead--"
Maria interrupted her. "But you don't, do you?" she said calmly. Pamela turned to look at her. Maria did not miss the shock in Pamela's eyes as the girl took in Maria's Czechoslovakian-pressed dress, nor the way her mouth fell open. A sense of glee filled Maria, and she decided to hell with waiting. "But if you have a problem with that, you can always leave another note in my locker. That's about your speed, isn't it?"
Pamela took two steps towards her and spoke angrily, not bothering to deny it. "Took you long enough to figure it out. I always knew you were stupid."
Shaking her head, Maria let out a laugh. "See, that's where you're wrong. Now, leaving me hate mail because your ex-boyfriend is seeing a completely different person, that's dumb. It completely boggles the mind."
Pamela looked at her in disbelief. "A different person? Your stupid lies get lamer every time you tell one, DeLuca. I saw you and Mark together. You can't get out of that."
By now, the two had the attention of not only the entire cast, but also the combo and a few assorted stagehands.
"Well, obviously you're either on hallucinogens, or you need to get yourself a pair of very thick glasses, 'cause you sure didn't see me," Maria retorted. "You don't have to believe me, although I've only told you the truth. But maybe you'll believe your friend here," she continued, reaching out and pulling Melanie into the 'conversation'. "Don't you have something to tell her?" she pointedly asked the other blonde.
Melanie met her eyes, then nodded resignedly and turned towards Pamela. "It wasn't Maria," she stated baldly. "Mark was dating me."
The cast and crew turned interested eyes towards the tall brunette, avid to see her reaction. It didn't disappoint.
"You what?" she screeched. "You're the one who told me it was her!"
"Gee, why would that be? Do you think she was trying to cover up something?" Maria asked no one in particular.
"You heard me," Melanie returned, paying no heed to Maria. "But frankly, you can have him. He's a jerk." Surprised, Maria shot a glance over at Mark, who didn't look very pleased at this statement. She decided it was time to take control of the situation again, and stepped between Pamela and Melanie, who had started yelling at each other. Well, Pamela was yelling and Melanie was answering back.
"So what exactly was the purpose of the little party favors you left me, Pamela?" Maria demanded. "To get me to stop seeing a guy I never even dated in the first place? Really smart there. To get me to quit the play? Just to be vindictive? What? And why the heck did you want me to go to the park that Friday, anyway? What was I supposed to do, play in the sandbox?"
"You were supposed to think Mark stood you up!" Pamela snapped. "So you'd get angry with him. And if you caught a cold and couldn't sing, so much the better."
"Very, very lame. You know, the next time you go to the trouble of all these elaborate--but totally ineffective--schemes, you might want to verify your facts first! Why couldn't you just ask me if I was seeing Mark? For god's sake, you are totally crazed!"
"Like I could believe anything you said," Pamela shot back.
"Gee, I don't know, Pam, I'm not the one who's been lying to you, now am I?" Maria mocked, staring up at her. "Maybe you should talk to your so-called best friend and ex-boyfriend about that. And while we're having this little talk," she continued, warming up now, "maybe you'd like to explain your cousin Barry, who just happens to work for the company that was supposed to be supplying the plant puppets. Did they really double book, or is there something else you should be admitting?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark, who'd been watching in angry silence, stiffen. "What did you do, Pamela?" he demanded, turning to the brunette.
Pamela either didn't notice how furious he was, or was herself too pissed off to care, because she didn't pay any attention to him, remaining focused on Maria. "Why do you even care? We've got plants, haven't we? The show is going on!" she yelled.
"I care because my friend ended up having to put in hours and hours of time he didn't have to make sure we could do this show!"
"Oh yes, your supposed boyfriend, that grungy loser Michael Guerin," Pamela sneered.
"Yes, my very good friend Michael Guerin, who, along with my other friends, helped figure you out, by the way!" Maria took one deadly step towards the senior, and opened her mouth to slay. "And speaking of my friends," she continued cooly, "You'd better hope that nothing ever happens to me, not so much as a broken fingernail. Because those friends of mine have got the written proof that you threatened me. And they won't hesitate to take you down."
Ms. Bedinger, who entered the auditorium through a side door, forestalled Pamela's furious reaction. "Good, you're all ready," the teacher said. "Everyone in places for the top of the show, please. We've got a lot of work to do this afternoon."
Maria didn't move, glaring coldly up at Pamela. It was easy not to back down; she just pretended she was Michael's stone wall and refused to budge. Pamela, with no stubborn alien to emulate, was only able to stare back for a few moments before she tore her eyes away and headed off stage. Maria allowed a triumphant grin to cover her face and winked down at Alex in the orchestra pit as she walked off to the wings, ready to make her Act I entrance.
The rehearsal went fairly smoothly; that is, if you ignored the angry vibes shooting off Pamela Harris at Maria, at Melanie, at Mark...well, at just about everyone. It was not a pretty sight. Maria did a fairly good job of ignoring her, though, concentrating instead on becoming Audrey, and things moved on like they should.
At least until the end of the second scene in Act II, when barely held tempers started to fray. It all began in the middle of 'The Meek Shall Inherit' as Debbie, Pamela and Melanie rushed back on stage after a fiendishly fast costume change into long glamour gowns and beehive-styled wigs. Melanie, not completely fastened into her high-heeled sandal, tripped and skidded forward into Pamela, sending her staggering and knocking her wig forward to cover her face. She jerked it back out of her eyes and glared at Melanie, although she continued to sing, but it was obvious she wasn't happy. The laughter from Dennis Cooper, who'd headed out into the house to watch the rest of the play after his character was killed off, didn't help either. As the song ended, Pamela shoved Melanie out of her way and stalked off stage.
Shortly afterwards, the last scene began, and Maria stood in the wings, pulling on the yellow rain slicker. She had to push past a squabbling Pamela and Melanie to get to the stage, but went doggedly on, ignoring the whispered insults flying back and forth between the two girls. She concentrated on her scene with Mark, trying not to get thrown by the glares he kept sending into the wings as the offstage fight got noticeably louder. For the first time, he actually stumbled over a few lines, and Maria could see his shoulders stiffening with tension. It was with a great sense of relief that she finally got to exit. With Megan's help, she made a fast change into the nightgown, negligee and mules for her final scene as Mark said a few more lines to the plant and stalked off, obviously not at all pleased.
Wafting her way back on stage, Maria began to sing, and was soon caught up in her scene with the plant. Ignoring the offstage argument, which had escalated to include Mark as well as the two girls, she allowed herself to be lured towards the puppet, and then pretended to fight its branches as it pulled her into its open maw and chomped down. "Help!" she cried out.
No help came.
She pretended to struggle with the plant a little more, and called out again. "Help!"
No Seymour rushed in to save her from the deadly plant. Where was Mark? She struggled with the plant for a few more moments, but there was only so much she could do. She tried to decide whether or not to give up and climb all the way into the plant, allowing her character to die and skipping the tender scene with Mark and the 'Somewhere That's Green' reprise. After a moment of reflection--and being a modern sort of woman--she decided to hell with Mark. If Seymour wasn't going to come to her rescue, she'd save herself. Lifting up the top lip of the plant puppet, she pulled herself free and stood up. Still no Mark on stage.
A very unamused Ms. Bedinger called from out in the house. "Hold it right there, Maria. Mark? Where are you? You've missed an entrance."
"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" Kyle hissed from somewhere inside the giant plant.
Leaning over the puppet, Maria responded, "Mark's too busy fighting with Pamela and Melanie to make his entrance." From the wings, there was the sound of an open palm hitting skin, and she shook her head. "Somehow I don't think we're going to be finishing this scene for a while."
The plant began to wiggle and contort, and Maria watched in some amusement as Kyle climbed out the back. "Well, I'm not staying in the plant then. It's too cramped. Couldn't Guerin build it a little bigger?" he complained, moving to stand next to her.
"Why? A little claustrophobic, are we?" Maria teased him.
Before he had a chance to answer, there was a blur of motion off in the wings. Maria stepped to the side just fast enough to miss being knocked over by Pamela and Melanie, who were so engrossed in their shoving match that they didn't notice they were now on stage.
After that, things happened so quickly that Maria was never quite sure how it all played out.
Kyle, attempting to get between the two girls to stop them, ducked as Pamela's fist shot out. Her arm swung over his head and cold-cocked her former best friend, who went staggering backwards. Mark, coming back on stage with a red mark on his cheek where he'd been slapped, was just in time to be run into by Melanie. Knocked off his balance, he barely avoided falling off the edge of the stage into the orchestra pit.
By this time, Kyle was holding Pamela by the shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. Debbie raced on stage and threw the contents of a very full water bottle at the hysterical senior, giving Pamela and Kyle both a faceful of water. With a shriek, Pamela pulled out of Kyle's hold and barged towards Debbie, who bolted.
Unfortunately, she got a little too close to Mark, who was still teetering on the edge of the stage, and he fell into the orchestra pit, taking her with him, both narrowly missing the drum set on the way down.
Kyle, who'd started after Pamela, slipped in the puddle of water that Debbie had inadvertently created and landed hard on his knees. Reaching out, he did manage to grab Pamela and swing her around, but she got her foot caught in the hem of her gown and stumbled. Maria watched with wide eyes as Pamela fell, ever so gracefully in slow motion, into the waiting mouth of the plant puppet. Without the support of a puppeteer inside, the plant trembled, and the top lid jiggled for a few brief seconds before plunging down to trap the senior beneath it.
There was silence in the auditorium. Slowly, Maria looked around and realized she was the only one on stage still standing.
A moment later, a cacophony of raised voices filled the auditorium. As Ms. Bedinger tried to regain order, Maria helped Kyle to his feet and then strolled over to the plant. She idly noted the excellence of Michael's handiwork as she lifted the top lip. Pamela was lying in an awkward, but unhurt, heap inside. Trying to bite back the laughter that threatened to erupt, Maria studied her.
"You know, Pam? You should try gardening. Vegetation looks really good on you." And with that, she let the plant close gently down once more.
* * * * *
"...I mean, I thought Alex was absolutely going to lose it!" Maria chuckled, thinking back to the rehearsal the previous afternoon. "It was like watching the Three Stooges or something."
Alex looked around the cafeteria table at the others before turning back to Maria. "What would that make you? Shemp?" he jokes, his eyes dancing. Then, as if to ward her off her mock indignation, he grabbed her hand and lifted it high into the air. "Ladies and gentleman," he announced. "The winnah and still champeen, Maria DeLuca!" And Maria's face shone rosy from happy embarrassment as her four friends burst into a spontaneous round of applause.
Continue to CHAPTERS 50, 51 and EPILOGUE
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