With a careful glance around the hallway, Max placed his hand over the lock, turning the tumblers, and opened the apartment door. Isabel swiftly followed him into the shabby apartment. It took less than three seconds to determine that Michael, indeed, wasn't there.
"Why isn't he back, Max?" Isabel asked, even though she knew her brother wouldn't have any answers. "Where could he have gone?"
"He was at Maria's before, right? Maybe he went back there," he said. Then he looked at his watch and shook his head. "No, he probably didn't. It's almost 11:00. I can't see Mrs. DeLuca too happy about him being over there this late on a school night," Max answered slowly.
"Try calling," Isabel suggested as she pulled out her cell phone. "I'll try Alex. It's a long shot, but..." Her voice trailed off as she dialed the number, hoping against hope that Michael would have acted completely out of character and headed there, if he wasn't at Maria's.
"Hello?" came a friendly voice on the other end.
"Alex? Is Michael there?" Isabel practically begged.
Alex was obviously startled, because there was a pause before he answered. "No. Were you expecting him to be?"
"Not really. But I was hoping."
"I like the guy, but he doesn't really hang out here," Alex reminded her. "So," he added, "how was the big meeting?"
"You heard?"
"Yep. Through the Maria telegraph."
"Oh."
"I thought you might've told us all about it beforehand." The statement was mild, but Isabel felt suddenly chastised.
"I know. Oh, Alex, it was awful..." Her voice grew taut as she proceeded to explain what had happened.
On Michael's phone, Max wasn't having much more luck.
"He ran out of here as soon as Isabel called. He didn't even wait for dessert," the blonde said. "What happened tonight, Max?"
"Nothing. Nasedo wouldn't talk."
"He came all this way and then wouldn't tell you why?" she blurted incredulously.
"He wasn't exactly pleased that we brought Michael," Max admitted. "Look, I'm going to try Liz's, but then Isabel and I need to get home. Our folks haven't been too pleased about the late nights we've been keeping. If we don't get home soon, we're going to be the ones who end up grounded."
"You don't want that. Believe me, it really sucks," Maria said. "Max? Would you leave a note for Michael? Tell him to call me the instant he gets back, okay? No matter what time it is."
"I'll do that, Maria. Can you meet us early, before school? We'll tell everyone about tonight, and try and decide where to go from there."
"Yes. 7:00, school parking lot?"
"Sounds good. See you then, Maria." Max turned to his sister, who was still on her cell phone. "Alex?" he asked. She nodded, and he said, "Tell him we're going to meet at school at 7:00 tomorrow morning to let everyone know what's going on."
As she began to do so, his eyes swept around the small apartment. Where on earth was his best friend?
* * * * *
"He didn't call!" Maria wailed the moment she climbed out of the Jetta, joining the other four. "Where is he?"
"We don't know," Isabel said tersely, "We tried calling him this morning, but he didn't pick up."
"He didn't for me, either," she said glumly, leaning against the side of the Jeep.
"We'll give him until school is over," Max decided. "If he hasn't shown up by then, we'll start hunting."
"Maybe he's out at the pod chamber," Isabel suggested. "I don't know how he'd get out there without a car, but it's where he went the last time he needed to get away. And he was so angry last night..."
Max nodded. "It's a possibility."
"Angry? What exactly happened?" Liz asked.
Max and Isabel looked at each other before Max spoke. "Nasedo wouldn't tell us anything. He was furious that we'd brought Michael even after he'd told us Michael should be kept out of it. All Michael did was ask a few questions, and Nasedo threw him across the room with his powers," he said soberly.
Three pairs of eyes looked at him in shock.
Maria began to shake her head, slowly at first, and then more furiously. "No. No. He can't do that. He can not do that!" she burst out. "Nobody hurts Michael and gets away with it. Not any more. I don't care if he is an alien shapeshifter--he's got to be stopped!"
"It's okay, Maria," Alex put in, taking the girl by the shoulders. "We won't let Michael get hurt."
Maria didn't exactly calm down. She began to mutter things under her breath. Alex thought he heard something about chainsaws, but decided it would be better not to ask.
Meanwhile, the others continued the conversation. "Is he all right?" Liz asked.
"I think so. He was on his feet again right away, anyway," he answered.
"There, you see?" she said to her friend. "He's all right." She turned back to Max and Isabel. "What happened then?"
"Michael left--" Max began.
A still agitated Maria interrupted. "You just let him leave?" Four pairs of eyes fastened on her. "Sorry. Go on," she said.
Max continued. "Nasedo was going to tell us why he was here, but when--"
Once again, Maria interrupted. This time it wasn't in reaction to what Max said, but to a familiar feeling down inside. "He's here," she gasped, turning and searching wildly across the parking lot. Spotting a tall figure approaching the school, she clambered onto the Jeep's hood and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Michael Guerin! You better get your butt over here this instant, buddy, or... or..."
"Or what?" he asked, sauntering over.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
He looked up at her, standing on the Jeep. "School. I have English. I would think you'd know that, since you're in the class," he said mildly.
She was not mollified. "No, I mean why are you not at home, calling me like you were supposed to? I waited up all night, Michael. I sat there, waiting for you to call and worrying about you. I got no sleep, and I look horrible, and it's all your fault!"
What the hell was she talking about? Sometimes the girl made absolutely no sense. And she didn't look horrible, she looked like Maria. Tired Maria, maybe, but Maria. Ticked-off Maria. Michael frowned. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to her diatribe. So he didn't.
"Isn't that what you wore yesterday?" Isabel said, eyeing his clothing.
Michael looked down at what he was wearing. Jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a jacket. "Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, aside from the fact that you have absolutely no eye for fashion, it tells me you didn't go home at all last night. So where were you?"
Michael looked her straight in the eye. "I went to see Valenti."
"Sheriff Valenti?" Max asked, dumfounded. Sure, the man had helped them out last spring and knew who they were, but still...this wasn't at all like Michael.
"No, Secret Agent Valenti, his long-lost evil twin." Everyone gaped at him. "Of course Sheriff Valenti. Who'd you think I meant? Kyle?"
"Why?" Max managed. Not that it wasn't a good idea, it just wasn't...well, Michael.
"I told him Nasedo was in town. I thought that he should know about it. In case Nasedo...tries something. He kidnapped Liz, remember?" Michael swallowed. "And he's killed people. We have no way of knowing what he's gonna do."
"He's not going to have the chance to do anything," Alex said irrepressibly. "Maria is already planning to kick his butt all the way back to Washington."
Michael turned to squint up at the blonde pixie, who hadn't moved from her perch on the Jeep. "You are, huh."
"He hurt you," she said petulantly.
"Nah. I've got a hard head," he assured her. "Besides, he's got control of his powers. He didn't use any more than he needed. I don't think he was trying to hurt me, just to knock some sense into me, that's all."
"Well, he shouldn't have. That's my job," Maria told him solemnly, then smiled as he nodded and looked up at her.
"C'mere," he said, reaching up and grabbing her by the waist. He set her firmly down on the asphalt, allowing his hands to linger for just a moment, then told her, "You were gonna put a dent in the hood."
"I was not!" she exclaimed.
Isabel rolled her eyes. "Would you two stop your nauseating little flirting rituals and get back to the point? What are we going to do about Nasedo?"
"Why? What did he tell you?" Michael asked.
"Nothing," Max said patiently. "He wouldn't say anything after we told him we'd be telling you everything," he added, wanting to make certain his friend understood he had their full support.
"Why the hell did you tell him that?" Michael burst out.
For once, Max was nonplussed. "I...because it's true. We are telling you."
"You know that and I know that, but did he really have to know that? I tell you, Maximillian, you may be destined to be a good leader, but you'd make a lousy spy."
"You're taking this all very calmly," Maria observed. "You're not acting angry." Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him in suspicion. "Why aren't you angry?"
"What, I can't be rational every now and then?" he riposted, then shook his head. "I am angry. More than angry. I am 100% ready-to-blow-things-up pissed off. But Nasedo is a hell of a lot stronger than I am, so being angry's not gonna get me anywhere, is it?"
"No," she admitted, secretly impressed by this sign of maturity.
"Can we get back to where you were last night?" Isabel put in. "You didn't actually stay at Valenti's all night, did you?"
"Yeah, that's real likely. No, I didn't." He hesitated for a moment. "Kyle drove me out to desert. I spent the night in the pod chamber and hitchhiked back this morning."
"Told you so," Isabel said to her brother. He ignored her.
"Why?" he asked the other alien.
Michael looked away for a moment, then answered. "Nasedo was against me using my powers. I thought I'd try and figure out why."
Max closed his eyes. He didn't really have to ask, but he asked anyway. Or started to. "You tried using--"
"Yeah." The answer was unapologetic.
"Michael, what were you thinking? What if there's a good reason why you shouldn't use them?" Max burst out.
Michael looked his friend straight in the eye. "I was thinking I need some answers, Max. I know, I was the one who wanted to find Nasedo in the first place. I thought he'd...be different. Give us our answers. But after everything that went on...I don't trust him, and I'm not ready to believe everything he says, just because he says it. Are you?"
Alex decided it was time to cut into the argument before Michael lost the cool he was so gung ho on keeping. "So did they work? Your powers, I mean?"
"No," Michael said, reddening just the slightest bit. "Not really. All I could do was make blue rocks. Well, that and..." Here he mumbled something unintelligible.
"What?" asked Isabel.
"I said I blew up a cactus, okay?" he shouted, daring them to make any comment. Of course Alex, being Alex, did.
"That's it! That's why Nasedo was so against you. He has a cactus fetish, and he knew you were a danger to them," he quipped. "Michael Guerin, Scourge of the Desert. All you need is a horse and a big black cape, and you're set."
All three girls laughed. Even Max cracked a smile at the mental image this conjured up. Michael, his arms crossed, just looked stonily at the lanky teenager.
Alex decided it might be healthier to change the subject. "And what did you mean about the blue rocks?" he asked. "Why are you making rocks? And why are they blue?"
"Long story," said Michael abruptly. He was in no mood for this. "If you're done with the questions, I'm outta here. Some of us have studying to do before school starts." With that, he strode off towards the school building.
"I'll see you later," Maria said quickly, and then tore up the sidewalk after him. He didn't look back, but as she neared, he paused to let her catch up, and together they walked inside.
The other four looked at each other in confusion. Finally Isabel managed to voice what they were all thinking. "Michael? Studying?"
* * * * *
Neither Michael nor Maria said anything as they entered the building and headed directly for his locker. Dialing the combination, he opened it and searched through the stack of relatively unused textbooks for the things he'd need for his first few classes. Beside him, Maria bit her lip and wondered how to break through the prickly surface he was wearing like a shield.
"Look, if you're expecting me to apologize for not calling you..." he began, carefully not looking at her. "I didn't know I was supposed to."
"Would you have?"
"What?"
"Would you have called me if you'd gone home and seen the message?" she asked.
He considered this for a moment, then answered with brutal honesty. "I don't know." She was silent, and he turned to her. "Not because I don't want to talk to you, just that...I was really angry about things last night. And if I lost control over that...I don't know. I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't."
Michael grimaced. "You may know that, but I don't. Not yet." He absently scratched his eyebrow. "I told you when we started this again, that I suck at the human stuff. Hell, I suck at the non-human stuff, too," he added with a self-deprecating little laugh. "I gotta get used to it, that's all." Glancing around the empty hallway, he added, "We got a while before school starts. I'm gonna head into English and do some reading first. Come with?"
"Yeah," she said, tilting her head up to study him. "I need to make sure you're not going to welsh on our little bet."
"Who, me?" he asked with a smirk. "Why would I do that when you'll have to do whatever I say when I win?"
"Don't remind me," she groaned, then smiled up at him. "Hey, Michael?"
"Yeah?"
She gave him a saucy grin. "English is that way."
* * * * *
"How about it?" Alex asked, looking around the cafeteria table at the group. "Who's in?"
"Me," Liz put in immediately. Max and Isabel weren't too far behind, either. Maria smiled at them. What great friends.
Turning towards the one person who hadn't spoken up, Alex said affably, "What about you, Michael?"
The spiky-haired alien was sitting next to Maria, but he obviously hadn't been paying any attention to the discussion going on. With his eyes focused on nothing in particular, he looked into the distance, lost in thought. Alex said again, "Michael? You in?"
Michael blinked and mumbled, "Yeah, sure. Whatever." At Maria's giggle, he pulled his attention all the way back to the group. "What are we talking about?" he asked warily.
"Michael, Michael, Michael," Maria teased. "You really need to learn to listen to your friends when they speak."
"Hmmm," mused Alex, a twinkle in his eye. "The last time I heard that, you had just agreed to wear your Crashdown uniform at the next Whits gig, Maria." Somehow he managed to keep a straight face.
"I am well aware of that," she said loftily. "You don't need to keep reminding me, Alex."
"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Michael demanded somewhat irritably.
"We're working out a schedule to help Mrs. DeLuca after school. Until her arm heals," Isabel told him.
"What?"
"You know, Mrs. DeLuca, broken arm, remember?" The tall blonde gave him a piercing stare. "You just agreed to help."
Michael blinked. "Oh. Okay." He took in the surprised faces of his friends. "What? I said I'd help, didn't I? But I'm not eating dinner with you guys any more," he warned Maria.
"Okay, Spaceboy." With a whispered "Thanks," Maria gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.
Michael immediately ducked his head away from her. "Cut it out," was all he said.
Liz got back to business. "So who's working this afternoon?" Four hands, including hers, shot into the air.
"That leaves you and me, Isabel," Alex said. "Why don't I take DeLuca duty today. I'll explain it to Maria's mom, and we'll go from there. Liz can work out the schedule."
With a grateful smile, Maria said, "Thank you, you guys. This is really great. I know mom will appreciate it, at least once she gets used to the idea of having Spaceboy at her beck and call." Michael shook his head disgustedly, and Maria continued over the laughter of the others, "I'm predicting homemade pies for everyone."
Ignoring the chatter that arose, Max leaned across the table and addressed his best friend. "So where were you a few minutes ago? You were miles away, or you'd never have let yourself get suckered into helping out."
Michael answered him soberly, his voice low. "Thinking about Nasedo."
"We'll come up with something," Max assured him. "Just give us some time, and we'll come up with a plan."
Michael looked him straight in the eye. "I already got one."
A wrinkle appeared on Max's brow. Michael tended to act first and plan later. "What's the plan?" The other four stopped discussing pie flavors and listened in.
"We give him what he wants."
"What do you mean, Michael?" Isabel asked.
"Max gets Nasedo to meet him somewhere to talk. He tells him I'll be kept out of it. Isabel distracts Tess. I break into their house and look for information." He waited expectantly for a reaction. Any reaction.
Isabel and Max looked at each other. Finally, Max said slowly, "It just might work."
CHAPTER 5
There was an immediate uproar. "Are you both insane?" Isabel cried out. "You're not really going to go along with this, Max. Are you?"
At the same time, Maria turned to her boyfriend and tapped him fiercely on the shoulder. "Aren't you forgetting something, Michael?" she asked pointedly.
He attempted to brazen it out. "What?"
"There are six of us here. What exactly are Liz, Alex and I supposed to be doing while you three are off on your little mission?"
"Nothing," he answered, hoping she would accept that answer.
Of course she didn't. "Nothing?" she shrieked, then looked around the cafeteria and lowered her voice to a hiss. "We're just supposed to sit here and do nothing? While you go off and try to investigate this by yourself? No way. You and I are a team, remember, Michael? We investigate together."
His voice was firm. "Not this time."
Hers was just as determined as she shot back, "You can't do this by yourself. You need me."
He didn't come out and deny that statement, but he didn't agree, either. "You're not going. If he figures it out--it's dangerous."
"You said this morning that he wasn't really trying to hurt you. Now all of a sudden it's dangerous? Make up your mind!"
"I don't want you getting hurt, okay?" he snapped.
"Well, I don't want you get--"
"Would you two calm down?" shouted Alex, taking matters into his own hands. He lowered his voice to normal conversational pitch. "Nobody wants anyone to get hurt. We've got that. Let's move on, shall we?"
"I see a problem," Liz put in quietly. "I mean, I agree we need to find out what's going on. But Max, how are you going to convince Nasedo that you're leaving Michael out of things? You already told him you weren't going to do that; he obviously believed you since he wouldn't tell you anything. So why would he think you just up and changed your mind?"
There was silence around the table as the six of them considered this. Finally, Max spoke. "I'll just have to try," he said stoutly.
Isabel scowled. "It won't work, Max. He's not going to believe you. And how could I distract Tess? I haven't spoken one word to her in six months, and all of a sudden I'm friendly? She won't buy it."
"You're the only one who can, Iz," Michael explained in a gruff voice. "She's not gonna listen to a human, Max will be busy with Nasedo, and I'm not supposed to be included. You're all we've got."
"Not necessarily," Liz thought aloud. "She knows you well enough to know that you...well, you sometimes rush into things, Michael. It wouldn't be all that out of line for you to confront her."
Wait a minute. This wasn't the plan. "She won't tell me anything," he objected.
"Maybe not, but it would be a distraction, and the rest of us could do the searching," added Maria.
"I'm not gonna let--" Michael began, only to be interrupted by a very thoughtful Alex.
"I wonder if Sheriff Valenti still has the FBI camera," he mused. Five pairs of eyes shot to him. "You distract Nasedo and Tess; we get in, plant it, and get out. No one is there long enough to get hurt, and we might get some valuable information out of it."
"It wouldn't hurt to check with Valenti," Max said slowly.
"That's great. That's just great," Michael burst out. "What happened to 'It just might work,' Max? We can't--"
The sound of the bell, signaling the end of the lunch period, cut off his protest.
"We'll talk about this more," promised Max as he rose from the table. "We'll figure something out."
Michael looked at him incredulously. "You're just gonna sit around and let Nasedo keep information from us?" he demanded.
"I thought you weren't going to believe anything he said," commented Maria, her brow wrinkled.
Michael's already shaky calm completely deserted him. "I'm not. It's just...Look. Something's coming. Don't you feel it, Max? Iz?" He looked wildly around at his fellow aliens. "Something's gonna happen, and we've got to be ready."
The siblings threw each other a worried glance. "I don't feel anything, Michael," Max said gently. "Look, I promise you we will do something to figure this out. What, I'm not sure, but we will do something. Promise me that you won't go off half-cocked in the meantime."
The other alien just looked at him.
"Promise me, Michael," Max repeated firmly.
He got a protest instead. "We gotta--"
"Promise."
Michael's jaw tensed, and he bit out, "Fine. I promise." Rising abruptly from the table, he added in a sarcastic voice, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to be a good little boy and go off to class." Turning on his heel, he did just that.
"Michael--" Isabel called after him.
"Let him go," Maria advised softly. "He'll be okay. He just...he needs a little time." But inwardly, she wasn't nearly as certain as she sounded.
* * * * *
Wearily Maria pulled the silver antennae off her head and thrust them into her locker in the Crashdown's break room. This day had sucked. Well, two days, really. First yesterday, with the worry about Michael's whereabouts; then the brouhaha at lunch; and finally Michael storming off and closing himself off behind an all-too-familiar stone wall. For the first time in two weeks, he hadn't said a word to her before History class, and had stalked out of the classroom the minute school was over.
And today hadn't been any better. Well, maybe a little better. He'd been exceptionally terse, but he had made the effort to speak to her. Just to grunt a greeting, but still...
He was angry, she knew. Not with her, but with the situation. And his way of dealing with it was to shut down. She grimaced. God forbid he should actually share what he was feeling with his close friends, much less with his girlfriend. God forbid he--
"You okay, 'Ria?" Liz asked as she entered the break room from the restaurant proper.
"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy," Maria grumbled. "I'm so happy I can hardly stand it." She turned around and leaned on the bank of lockers. "I tell you, Liz, that shapeshifter better pray he never meets up with me, because he will rue the day. I'm talking massive amounts of pain here." She glanced at her friend. "Hey, I'm serious, Lizzy--All right, would you please stop laughing at me? Okay, so I'm no match for his superpowers, but still...why did he have to come back and cause all this trouble?"
"I know Michael is angry--" Liz began.
Maria immediately leapt to his defense. "Well, wouldn't you be?"
Liz smiled slightly. "I probably would. But I'm sorry he's shutting you out again."
What? Maria willfully ignored the fact that she'd been mentally ranting about this very thing just a few moments earlier, and shook her head. "There's more than that going on, I think. It's not just Michael being broody. I know he can be a little paranoid, but..." Her voice trailed off as Liz raised her eyebrows. "Okay, a lot paranoid. But there's usually a very good reason for it. I mean, why else would he get so worked up about us going with him to Tess's house to snoop? He's a lot more sensitive to things than people think. I think he really does feel something coming, Liz. And maybe Max should be paying more attention to it."
Liz paused to consider. "Well, it couldn't hurt to try and figure it out. If there's something wrong, we need to know so we can deal with it. But it won't pay to act too hastily, either. We don't want to rush into things we know nothing about." She paused. "This may be nothing new. After all, we should be used to unusual things happening by now."
"But that's just it," Maria expostulated. "We are used to it. But this is different. Didn't you see him, Liz? He was..." She swallowed. "I know how he's feeling. He's really taking Nasedo's accusation badly, and if he's out doing something to figure things out, then he can keep from thinking about it. He can't face up to the accusation, because he doesn't think he could handle it if it were true." She cut off Liz's incipient protest. "It's not true; we all know it's not. But part of Michael doesn't know." Sighing, she muttered, "I just wish he'd talk to us about it, that's all."
"Well, you can have a chance to corner him tomorrow," Liz said. "Even if he won't talk to you at school. He's scheduled to help your mom out at the shop, and you can go over there on your break."
Maria visibly brightened. "Hey, maybe he'll be so eager to get free from my mother that he'll actually be happy to talk to me, just as an excuse. I'll corner him in the back room and make him..." Her voice trailed off and she snorted. "Like that's going to happen. I don't think anyone's ever successfully made Michael talk when he didn't want to. Besides, I can't talk about it in front of Mom. I don't care how much pain medication she's on."
"You'll come up with something. Use your creativity. I'll cover for you here," Liz put in loyally.
"I can't push him, though," Maria said, thinking aloud. "Just be there and hope he feels like talking." She looked at Liz in frustration. "Why did I have to fall for the difficult guy? Why couldn't it have been someone like...like Alex?" The two girls caught each other's eyes and burst into laughter.
"Why are you asking me?" chuckled Liz. "I went for the guy predestined to lead his whole planet to salvation. No easy guys for me, either."
"Well, at least yours has decent communication skills," Maria complained in mock seriousness. "Let's face it, Liz. We'd both be better off with an Alex."
One more glance at each other and the two shook their heads, speaking in unison. "Naaaah."
* * * * *
Michael stood in front of the window and studied the rows of tacky alien crap displayed. Row upon row of round bellied, bug-eyed beings, gray or green or gray-green. Molded in plastic or rubber. Sewn in fake fur. Printed on magnets and stickers. Some wearing little rainbow T-shirts, some waving ray guns...and all a total misrepresentation of his species.
At least he thought so. He couldn't exactly remember anything from his previous life. But somehow he didn't picture Nasedo, the only pure-blooded alien he'd met, wandering around town wearing an 'I invaded Earth and all I got was this lousy T-shirt' T-shirt.
Michael grimaced. He should be out looking for clues, following the shapeshifter, practicing his powers...something. Anything. But no. Thanks to Max and the stupid promise he'd been forced into, he couldn't. Instead, here he was, about to embark on an afternoon of indentured servitude with the newspaper-wielding, Michael-loathing mother of his girlfriend.
Boy oh boy, was this gonna be fun.
Setting his jaw in a grim line, he pushed open the door and stepped into the tiny shop. The room teemed with color and scent, jumbling his senses. He could make out something faintly sweet in the air. Fruity. And a hint of something darker...spicier, maybe?
"Hello, Michael."
He suddenly realized that Mrs. DeLuca was standing there, watching him. He cleared his throat. "Mrs. DeLuca."
"It's very nice of all you kids to come help out," she said steadily. He shrugged, then risked a glance in her direction. She looked better than she had three days earlier. Her jaw wasn't nearly as swollen, although it was starting to turn a deep shade of purplish-black. Probably take at least a week to disappear entirely. Her cast-bound right arm was still being supported, although the white canvas sling had been replaced with a vibrant, multi-colored one. Huh. Maria in action.
Well, this was why he was here to help, wasn't it? "So...what do you want me to do?" he asked gruffly.
"I have a shipment of things that need price tags," she told him. "But first, there's cold pop in the mini-fridge in the back, and a box of doughnuts. Help yourself." He didn't move, and she added, "Don't be shy. Alex has been friends with Maria for years, so I know how much you boys can pack away. Oh, and there's a bottle of Tabasco sauce, too. I wouldn't want to be responsible for you losing your bet with Max." She smiled suddenly. "Of course, I'll be offering him the Tabasco, too, when he comes in. Can't play favorites."
"'S okay. Maybe later." He'd rather get right down to business. Be doing something. If he kept busy, maybe this afternoon wouldn't stretch out so interminably.
Yeah. Fat chance.
Pulling his attention back towards Maria's mother, Michael listened as she showed him how to work the price label gun; then he began to affix tags on a batch of spaceship-shaped keychains. Mrs. DeLuca watched him for a moment before settling behind the counter to look over some paperwork. She did keep glancing up at him, though. By the fourth time, he was almost ready to crawl out of his own skin, he was so uncomfortable. What did she think he was gonna do, rip off her merchandise or what? She gave him a smile, and he had to strain to keep himself from flinching.
An influx of customers tore her attention away, and he was relieved. This was even worse than the dinner a few nights ago. At least then she'd been drugged up on painkillers. Now she was being...friendly to him, just as if he weren't the guy she'd warned away from her daughter less than a month ago. It was weird. Sure, he was helping her out, but so was everyone else. It wasn't even his idea. It didn't make sense for her to be this pleasant. Although he had not forgotten the steel in her voice when she warned him of the dire consequences should he ever hurt Maria again. What was the phrase she'd used? 'Kick your ass from here to California.' Yeah, that was it. And he didn't doubt that it was true, no matter how pleasant she might be right now.
The nerve-wracking thing was, it was only a matter of time before he did do something that hurt Maria, whether he meant to or not. He seemed to have a real knack for it. And so here he was, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And sticking labels on alien-themed junk.
A few of the customers--obviously tourists--inadvertently pinned Michael into the corner as he finished with the keychains, but he was able to finally make his way into the back room and take a deep breath. He'd stay in here, out of the way, until Mrs. DeLuca had finished with them; then he'd force himself to go see what else she needed him to do.
Being in the store wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, if he ignored the total trivialization of his race. The alien-related crap only made up part of the merchandise. The rest of the shop featured aromatic essences, astrological devices, and other New Age stuff. He'd even seen a few crystals that reminded him of the ones he'd made from rocks, although these were faceted and ranged in the pink and amber shades. He'd have to take another look when he got the chance.
From the back room, he could still hear the voices of the inanely chattering tourists out in the shop; it only made him more determined to stay holed up in the back until they'd gone. Glancing around, he decided he wasn't going to waste any time, though. He pulled a paperback from his back pocket and flipped through it until he found his place. Hamlet. Not his first choice of reading material, but it was sure to be on the English exam at the end of the term. He hadn't bothered to read it a month ago when he was supposed to, so now he was making up for lost time. No matter what was going on with Nasedo's cryptic warning, he wasn't going to let Maria win their bet. Not without a fight. He began to read.
He'd gotten through quite a few pages when a forced cry of "Damn!" from the store brought him to the doorway. He poked his head cautiously out. The tourists were gone, and Mrs. DeLuca was back at the counter, staring down at some papers without really seeing them. Michael cleared his throat and she looked up, startled. Her brow was furrowed.
"Oh, Michael. Sorry. I'd forgotten you were here," she said, pasting a smile on her face. It didn't seem real though, not like her earlier smile.
He hesitated, then ventured, "Everything okay?"
"What? Oh, yes, it's fine," she answered, clearly distracted. "Just not dealing too well with this cast," she added sheepishly, picking up a pencil from the counter where she'd flung it in frustration a few minutes earlier. She held it awkwardly in her left hand.
"What do you need me to do next?" he asked in a gruff tone.
Mrs. DeLuca looked around the shop. Everything seemed to be in place. "If you don't mind, maybe you could pull the things off the top shelves in the storeroom for me. I need to reorganize in there so I can reach everything one-handed," she said with a wry smile.
"Okay," he answered before heading into the smaller room in back where she kept the additional merchandise. Shoving his copy of Hamlet back into his pocket, he looked around at the boxes stacked randomly on the metal shelves. Mrs. DeLuca should get Liz in here to make sense out of this chaos. He glanced down at the rickety chair that was lying on its side near the far wall. No wonder she'd fallen. It was surprising it hadn't happened any earlier.
Picking the chair up, he righted it and set it next to the shelves. There was as good a place to start as any. He stepped carefully up onto it and reached for the closest box.
"Careful," Mrs. DeLuca warned from the doorway. "I don't want any more accidents. One broken arm is enough, don't you think?" Michael nodded without looking back at her, and pulled the box down, stepping off the chair. He was setting the carton on a lower shelf when she spoke again.
"So, Michael, do you believe in aliens?" she asked casually. He jerked around, the box still in his hands, and she burst into laughter. "If you could see your face..." she chuckled.
He immediately let years of familiar defenses take over. The only sign that he wasn't totally indifferent was a slight narrowing of his eyes. "Why do you ask?" he questioned guardedly.
She looked at him in surprise. "You're in the middle of Roswell, New Mexico, in a shop that caters almost entirely to the whole alien-phenomenon tourist trade, and you're holding a box of rubber aliens. I was just curious, that's all. I'm trying to get to know you better."
Except that he didn't particularly want her to know him any better. She was human, she was an adult, and she was his girlfriend's mother. Three very good reasons not to open up.
But she was still looking at him, her eyebrows raised inquiringly. "It's just a question, Michael."
Great. What could he say? 'Of course I believe in aliens. After all, I am one.' Uh-uh. Not gonna happen. Ever. The best option was an out-and-out lie--except somehow he couldn't bring himself to betray what he, Max and Isabel were. So he decided to go with a middle-of-the-road answer, and gave a non-committal shrug.
He was saved from having to expand on this non-answer by the tinkle of the shop bell as the front door opened. A familiar voice called, "Mom!"
Again, great. He'd managed to avoid an in-depth conversation with Maria for two days, but--No. She was probably just here to check on her mother, that's all. He climbed back on the chair and started busily moving more boxes.
"So, you haven't killed him yet?" Maria asked cheerfully as she joined her mother in the doorway.
"He's been very helpful," Amy responded, just as cheerily.
Maria grinned. "I'm not at all surprised. He can be very useful when he wants to be."
"Hey, I'm right here," Michael pointed out, somewhat irked at being discussed like this.
"I know--I can see you," Maria shot back. "Hey, Michael."
He turned to face her. She was wearing a jacket over her Crashdown uniform. "Hey," he answered.
"He's not much for conversation, but he's cute, so that kind of makes up for it," Maria said in an aside to her mother. She made certain to speak loudly enough to ensure that Michael would hear, though, and she could tell that he did. A black scowl covered his face and he turned back around and set to work once again.
Amy DeLuca raised an interested eyebrow and purposely drew her daughter's attention. "I thought you were working this afternoon."
"I am," Maria assured her. "I just ran over on my break to see how you were doing."
Amy's tone was indulgent. "Oh, you just came to see me, did you?"
Maria didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, both of you, actually. So how's the wrist, Mom?"
"It's fine."
"Good." She paused for just a moment. "Do you mind if I borrow Michael for a few minutes?"
"I think you'd better ask him that," Amy returned with a smile.
Michael kept moving boxes as he threw over his shoulder, "I'm busy."
"Please?" Maria said, reaching up to tug on his shirt. "Please please pleeeeeease?"
"You'd better give in, Michael," Amy advised. "When she gets like this, she's relentless."
He eyed first the mother, then the daughter. He tried again. "I've got stuff to do here."
"And think how much faster you'll get it done without me here distracting you," Maria pointed out. "Five minutes, and then I have to get back to the Crashdown."
He gave up. "Fine," he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair and stepping down to the floor. After all, how much of an in-depth conversation could Maria get into in five minutes? He should be able to stall until she had to leave.
"Good!" Maria squealed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him towards a door in the back. "We'll be out back, Mom. C'mon, Spaceboy."
Michael stiffened but stalked out after her. The moment they were out in the tiny alley behind the row of shops, he turned to Maria and hissed, "Don't ever call me that. Not in front of people."
"What, 'Spaceboy'?" Maria said in surprise. "It's just a nickname, Michael. It could mean you wanted to be an astronaut when you were a kid, or that you have a habit of staring into space, or it could even refer to the area between your ears," she added in a teasing voice. "But if you want, I can call you something else. How's 'Mike'? 'Mikey'? 'Mickey'? 'Mi--'"
His expression was implacable. "Michael. You can call me Michael. I don't do nicknames."
"You call Max 'Maxwell' and 'Maximillian'," she pointed out.
He didn't look at her as he muttered, "That's different."
"And how is that?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, he answered, "It just is, Princess."
Indignant, she began, "I am not a--Oh. I see what you mean. Okay." She dramatically placed a hand over her heart and raised the other in the air, intoning in a particularly affected tone, "I, Maria Ursula DeLuca--don't give me that look, Michael--solemnly swear never to call you, Michael Guerin--what's your middle name, anyway?"
"Don't have one."
"You don't--"
"No. You were saying?"
She looked at him for a moment before resuming her overdramatic proclamation. "Never to call you, Michael No-Middle-Name Guerin, anything other than Michael."
"That's better."
Her eyes glinted with mischief. "Or Spaceboy."
"Maria--"
"But never in public, just when it's the six of us." She lowered her arms. "That good enough?"
"Yeah." Michael paused awkwardly for a moment, then managed a quiet, "Thanks."
"No problem." She looked up at him, hesitating. For a moment there, he'd seemed strangely vulnerable. Not what she had in mind when she'd started clowning around. She had wanted to try and tease him out of his bad mood, not make him even more withdrawn. There was definite concern in her voice as she asked, "But why, Michael? Is it to keep a distance between you and other people? Because you're close to people now. You don't have to feel so separate."
He tensed and looked away, but he answered her. "Hank used to call me 'Mickey'."
"Oh," she breathed, immediately understanding. Her mind darted to the flashes he'd inadvertently given her earlier that fall. One in particular, with a gigantic and angry Hank leaning threateningly over a small helpless boy. Michael had never spoken about it and she'd never pressed him, but she could still remember his fear. And Hank had called him 'Mickey.' All of a sudden, the happy Disneyesque connotations of that name were sucked away, and in their place was left pain and fear and shame. Talk about bad associations..."Michael, I wish you hadn't had to go through all that," she began.
But he wasn't going to talk about it now, either. "Whatever," he said, then turned back to her and ruthlessly changed the subject. "So what did you want to talk to me about, anyway?"
"What?" she asked, still caught up in her--no, his--memories.
"You were the one who dragged me out here. What did you want?"
Okay, mood change. Fine. She could work with that. Forming a pout, she looked up at him through lowered lashes. "What, a girl can't just want to spend a few minutes with her boyfriend?"
His eyes narrowed. "You're up to something."
Dropping the act, she answered honestly. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. But I'm not about to ask you, because you'd just say 'fine', which would tick me off, because with everything that's going on, you obviously aren't fine. And since you won't talk to me at school--"
"Look, I--"
"No, it's all right, Michael. I think I understand why. But since you won't talk to me, I just wanted to...well, corner you, so I could remind you that I'm here for you and I believe in you and I love you. And that's all," she finished in a rush.
Blinking down at her, Michael seemed unable to collect his thoughts and put them into words. She smiled at her tongue-tied alien and reached up to gently pat his cheek. "Look, I've got to get back to the Crashdown. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
She had barely made it two steps closer to the door when she was swung back around and enveloped in two strong arms. His voice was muffled by her hair. "You're seriously warped, you know that?"
"Course I do. That's why we go so well together," she responded with a grin and a squeeze. Pulling back slightly, she looked him straight in the eye and said teasingly, "Michael."
"Maria."
"Spaceboy."
"Princess."
"Spikehead." At his look, she added quickly, "It's not a nickname. It's a description."
He raised an eyebrow, but went along with it. "Blondie."
"Brooder."
"Babbler."
"Bab--now, wait just a minute!"
One eyebrow rose. "Can dish it out, but can't take it?" His lips twitched once, and she burst into laughter.
"We're going to have this out, pally, sometime when I don't have to get back to work," she teased.
His face was perfectly deadpan as he told her, "I'm quaking in my boots."
"And well you should be," she responded feistily. Reaching up, she kissed him, allowing her lips to linger on his warm ones when he responded. As kisses go, it was fairly innocent, but still sweet. She smiled.
"What?"
Her tone was regretful. "I really do have to get back. Liz can only cover for me for so long." She started down the alley towards the street.
A sudden impulse made him call out. "Maria?"
She turned back. "Yeah?"
"Why don't you take this with you," he suggested, pulling something from his pocket and tossing it to her. Her fingers closed around it as she caught it reflexively, and she immediately knew what it was. One of the blue crystals.
"Michael," she protested.
"It's okay. I want you to have it. Besides, I've got others."
"You're sure?" she asked, studying his face for any sign of doubt. She found none.
"Yeah."
In a flash, she was back in front of him, whispering "Thank you, Michael," and pressing another kiss on his lips. Then she darted down the alleyway and was gone.
Michael stood there, looking down the alley where he'd last seen her. He wasn't quite sure what had prompted him to give her the crystal, but somehow it felt right. Like she was meant to have it.
He grimaced. She deserved more, but that's all he had to give her. She was always doing stuff for him. Like just now, when she'd obviously wanted to talk about how he was feeling, but had allowed him to change the subject because he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, she'd been so Maria--vibrantly, feistily Maria--that he'd almost forgotten everything else that was going on.
How did she know him so well? She could lead him right up to the brink, without pushing past his emotional boundaries. And each time, he felt as if he'd stretched inside. Become bigger, more open. Like she could break through his stone wall from the inside, just expand it until it contained the whole universe, and wasn't even needed any more. How did she do it? He'd never figure her out.
Shaking his head in confusion, he headed back into the shop. He could probably spend several lifetimes pondering why Maria was Maria. But in the meantime, menial labor awaited. He had rubber aliens to move.
CHAPTER 6
Balancing carefully on the rickety chair, Michael reached up and pulled the last carton from the top of the metal shelving unit. The smallish box had been tucked behind two others, and was covered with a thin layer of dust which floated through the air as he moved it. Some of these cartons looked like they hadn't been moved in a few years. Whatever was in them, they couldn't be very popular sellers.
He stepped to the floor and moved the chair away from the shelves, setting the small box on it. The top three shelves were now completely empty, and he figured that the rest were well within Mrs. DeLuca's reach. She was a lot taller than her daughter. Now all he had to do was arrange everything so she could get to it with her left hand. But she probably had her own way of wanting things. Better ask first.
He could hear her in the shop, helping a customer; he considered pulling out Hamlet again but discarded the idea almost at once. He didn't feel like reading just now. Maria's visit had distracted him for a while, but that pleasant oblivion had long since worn away, and his mind had been busy as he worked.
Moving the box from the chair, he sat and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He'd been over it and over it in his mind over the last few days, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he'd done that should have Nasedo trying to oust him from the group. If it were in the past, maybe. After all, the moment he'd found out about the photo of the alien's murder victim from 1959, he'd positively itched with a need to find out whatever he could of their past. He'd acted rashly more than once, he had to admit--although he certainly wasn't sorry for any of it. But, trying to be fair, maybe some of his actions could be seen as irresponsible.
But all of that was before Nasedo had revealed himself last spring. He couldn't think of anything he'd done since then to bring this reprobation on his head. Nothing that had happened to him over the last few months really affected anyone outside of his small, tightly-knit circle. So what could have set Nasedo off?
He'd started making blue rocks. But that had happened about the same time as Nasedo's call to Max. There was no way the shapeshifter could have found out about it. And what did a bunch of stupid rocks mean, anyway?
And he'd gotten back together with Maria, but that had happened later, too. Besides, it shouldn't make any difference to Nasedo. It wasn't like, if there was no Maria, Michael was going to go with the whole Destiny idea anyway. Neither he nor Isabel wanted that. The idea was just--well, wrong.
Then there was the whole split-personality thing earlier that fall. But no one outside of his small group knew anything about it. No one else was close enough to realize that the Michael who'd paraded quietly through Roswell for weeks was any different from the usually surly guy they were used to seeing. That is, if they noticed him at all.
Nasedo couldn't have known about any of it before he called Max. And Michael hadn't done anything else that could warrant this anger.
Unless the shapeshifter knew something that he didn't...
Sitting up abruptly, Michael ruthlessly pushed this thought aside. He had to stop thinking about it before he went stir crazy and did something impulsive, promise or no promise.
Mrs. DeLuca was finishing up with her customer as he stepped out from the back. The customer, an older woman in a dark jacket, glanced uneasily at him as she put away her change and took the bag Maria's mother handed her. Michael stayed in the doorway, trying to look unthreatening and apparently not succeeding. The woman's eyes flickered nervously to Mrs. DeLuca and back towards Michael.
Stepping around the counter, Amy DeLuca placed herself between the woman and the spiky-haired teenager. "It's all right," she said reassuringly. "He's...he's a friend of the family." The woman didn't lose any of her tension, and Amy escorted her to the front door with a gentle smile. As the door closed behind her, Amy turned to face the boy who stood stiffly in the doorway.
"It's all right," she repeated. Michael didn't answer, and she felt a sudden urge to rid his eyes of their blank expression. "That was Mrs. Walton," she explained. "She moved here about six months ago, after her husband was killed when their house was robbed. She's a little gun-shy around people she doesn't know, especially...well, she doesn't trust easily, that's all."
He looked away as he muttered, "Yeah, I have that effect on a lot of people."
"It has nothing to do with you, Michael. She would have reacted the same way to anyone else that she didn't know. Don't take it personally."
Michael didn't bother to explain that the woman's reaction hadn't bugged him all that much. He was used to that kind of thing, when he was noticed. It had just driven home Nasedo's reaction, that was all...His expression didn't alter as he shrugged and changed the subject. "You got a particular way you want the boxes in back arranged?" he asked gruffly.
"What? Oh, yes. I'll come take a look."
Heading back into the storeroom, Michael stood by the shelves and waited for Mrs. DeLuca to give him instructions. She took a look around, and admitted sheepishly, "I'm not even sure what's in some of these. Why don't you open everything up, and I'll decide?"
The teenager complied with her wishes, not saying a word. After a few of the larger boxes were opened, he picked up the small box that was sitting on the floor by the chair. It was taped shut. Pulling out a pocketknife, he slit the tape and placed the box on a nearby shelf before moving on to another carton.
"You want the heavier stuff at the bottom and the lighter stuff higher up?" he asked diffidently. There was no answer, and he turned his head. "Mrs. DeLuca?"
She was standing by the shelving, her good hand holding open the flaps of the small box he'd just put there. She looked pasty white, as if suddenly sick to her stomach. Her hand trembled.
"Mrs. DeLuca?" Michael repeated twice more before she seemed to hear. He caught a brief glimpse of something metallic inside the box before she let go and the flaps swung shut. She seemed suddenly very unsteady on her feet.
Reaching out, Michael grabbed the chair and placed it next to her; she sank onto it. He hesitated. "You okay?"
She stared straight ahead for a moment, then spoke for the first time in what seemed like a very long while. "Where did that box come from?"
"Top shelf, behind a couple of bigger ones," he answered.
When she spoke again, her voice was unsteady. "I think that's all I'll need you for, Michael."
He blinked, confused. It was nowhere near closing time, and there were boxes piled haphazardly all over the storeroom. As much as he didn't want to be there, something was wrong. "There's still a lot--" he began.
"I mean it. You can go," she stated firmly, still not looking at him.
He was getting a very bad feeling about this. "Do you want me to call Maria?" he suggested.
"I just want you to leave!" she snapped. A few moments later, he was standing outside the back door, jacket in hand, wondering what the hell just happened. She had been perfectly pleasant--unnervingly so, in fact--until she'd looked into that box.
Pulling on his jacket, Michael started off at a brisk pace towards the Crashdown and Maria.
* * * * *
Liz Parker looked up from the ketchups she was marrying in the pre-dinner lull, ready to greet the new customer, as the bell over the Crashdown's front door rang. But it wasn't a customer. Well, she supposed it was, but Alex didn't really count. He was a friend first, and besides, she usually ended up comping him his meals. "Hi, Alex! How's it going?"
"Really great," he answered as he sat down at the counter. "I think I might have a line on a gig for The Whits, a pre-Christmas holiday bash."
Liz smiled, pleased for him. "Oh, Maria will be exited. Congratulations!" A sudden thought hit her. "Are you really going to make her sing in her waitress uniform, Alex?"
His eyes twinkled. "She agreed to it, even if she didn't realize what she was agreeing to at the time. Besides, do you think I'd tell you if she was off the hook? It'll be too fun to watch her squirm."
"Who's squirming?" asked Maria, who'd overheard Alex's last sentence as she approached, root beer in hand. Setting the glass down in front of him, she said, "I put your order in. It'll be up in a few minutes."
"I didn't order yet," Alex objected.
Liz laughed. "Alex, you've been coming in here for years, and you always have the same thing. A Galaxy Melt, an order of Saturn Rings, and a root beer. Unless it's breakfast--then it's pancakes."
He frowned and looked thoughtful. "Are you saying I'm predictable?"
"Just because you've ordered the same meal for eight years? Why would you think that?" she bantered.
Maria cut in. "Enough with Alex's predictability. Who is squirming, and what are they squirming over?" She glanced around the nearly empty restaurant and sat down next to Alex.
"Well, actually, you are," Alex grinned. "The Whits might have a gig in a few weeks. So you'd better start shining those antennae--you're going to want to look good."
Groaning, Maria closed her eyes. "This really bites." She didn't even bother to open them as the bell over the door rang again. Liz could greet the new customer. Maria was too busy wallowing in her own fashion nightmare-induced misery.
"Maria, could you take care of the new arrival, please?" Liz asked calmly.
"You know, someday I'm going to be doing something other than serving horribly unhealthy food to the unwashed masses," Maria grumbled as she opened her eyes and swung the stool around. A tall form was standing right in front of her, and her mood brightened. "Speaking of the unwashed masses," she teased with a smile. "Hey, Michael. You can't have missed me already. You just saw me an hour ago."
Of course, he didn't respond with something flowery and romantic, like 'A minute away from you is too long.' After all, this was Michael. "I need to talk to you," he said tautly.
She studied him, startled. "Sure. Uh, Liz? We'll be in the break room." Hopping off the stool, she pulled Michael to the back of the restaurant and through the swinging door.
"What's going on?" she asked. "I thought you were banned from the Crashdown."
He was taken aback, as if whatever was on his mind had drummed that fact right out of his head. "I am, I guess."
"And why aren't you at the shop, anyway? What happened?"
"Your mother kicked me out," he stated baldly.
"What? Why? What happened?"
He hesitated. "She was acting kinda...weird."
Maria sank down onto the break room couch. "I know you don't know her all that well, Michael, but believe me, weird is not unusual for Mom. She could be her own exhibit at Ripley's Believe It or Not." She grinned. "Actually, so could you."
Shaking his head, Michael forged on. "That's not what I mean. She was...nice to me the whole afternoon, which is strange enough, especially when she started asking me about aliens--"
Oh god. "She what?"
"Exactly. But this was later, after you left. We were going through some boxes in the storeroom, and she opened one and freaked."
"She freaked," Maria stated carefully.
"Yeah."
"In a panicky, 'I just discovered aliens exist and one is dating my daughter' kind of way?"
"In a barely able to function kind of way," Michael clarified. "The next thing I knew, I was out the door."
Her brow wrinkled. "Do you think she's all right?"
"How should I know?" Michael shot back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just thought I should tell you. So you could check up on her or something."
Maria nodded absently, clearly thinking about what had happened. She nervously twisted the bracelet she was wearing. "What was in the box?"
"I don't know."
The sound of the Crashdown's back door opening brought both of their heads snapping around. Jeff Parker came in, carrying a carton of paper goods. He stopped when he saw Michael, who immediately clammed up and looked sullen.
"It's okay, Mr. Parker," Maria put in. "He just brought me a message from my mother."
"Your mother." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah. He was helping her out at the shop this afternoon." She smiled hopefully up at the Crashdown's owner. "Mom is completely over the whole staying-out-all-night thing. Well, as long as it doesn't happen again. And she's okay with Michael. So if she's over being mad, could you..." Her voice trailed off expectantly.
Michael spoke for the first time since Mr. Parker's entrance. "I'll go."
"You can stay," Jeff told the glowering teenager. "I was going along with Amy's wishes on the matter; if she doesn't mind, I don't have any reason to keep you away. Just try not to distract any of the waitresses while they're on duty, will you?" he added with a smile.
Michael nodded once, his face lightening just the slightest bit. Maria, as usual, was more vocal than her boyfriend. "Thanks, Mr. Parker! I'll get back to work in just a minute, I promise."
"Sure thing," Jeff told her, heading into the kitchen to deposit his carton. Maria turned back to Michael.
"So how bad was she? Do you think I should go over there, or call her, or wait until I get home?"
"I don't know," he repeated. "I'm not exactly a good judge of human behavior."
"Well, you're not as bad as you think," Maria retorted. "You knew enough to come tell me about it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." He looked down at her for a moment, then spoke again. "I'm gonna go. Stuff to do."
"Would any of this 'stuff' be studying for a certain History exam tomorrow?"
"What if it is?" Michael shot back.
Maria smiled up at him. "Oh, nothing," she answered nonchalantly. "Just checking up on you. After all, there's a bet at stake."
"Don't worry about it. It's under control."
"Good. I don't want to win, anyway."
"Yeah, see if you can say that after you're stuck with the penalty for losing."
She tilted her head to the side speculatively. "Which is what, exactly?"
He grinned fiercely down at her. "Haven't decided yet. I'll let you know after I win. Now go call your mother or serve somebody or something. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay, Spaceboy," she said, heading for the phone.
He rolled his eyes and strode out the back door and into the alleyway. He'd spent quite a bit of time in alleys today, actually. Good places to hide out.
Or be trapped.
Now what had stuck that into his brain? The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he hastened his pace. Rounding the corner, he glanced swiftly in all directions. Normal people were walking around, doing normal, everyday things. No one was doing anything overtly suspicious.
So why did he have the feeling he was being watched?
continue to chapters 7, 8 and 9
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