"Huh?" was Michael's admittedly less-than-brilliant response. "Where is what?"
Pushing his way into the apartment, the shapeshifter swung around to face the three of them. "The cube. The one you stole from me."
"Hey, I've been a little busy the last couple of days, but I think I'd remember stealing from you," Michael objected. Glancing over at the Evans siblings, he caught a knowing look on Max's face and closed the door. "Okay, Maxwell, what the hell is going on?"
"I can't believe we forgot about it," Max said, half to himself.
Nasedo wheeled on him. "Where is it?"
"It's safe," Max replied, uncowed.
"What are you talking about, Max?" Isabel demanded. "Did you--"
"Yeah," he answered. "We found a metallic cube and a couple of metal sheets, like pages from the book Tess found."
"And how did Nasedo find out?" she continued, ignoring the shapeshifter's palpable anger. Her eyes widened, and she winced. "You didn't even bother to try and hide it, did you, Max? Michael was right--you're a lousy spy."
Good to be right about something for a change, Michael thought. Now if he just knew what they were talking about...
"Would somebody--" he began.
Max hadn't even heard him. He was too busy trying to pacify his sister. Patiently, he explained, "We were a little busy, Iz. We'd just found it when Alex called about Maria. And you didn't exactly show up as arranged."
"Excuse me for getting knocked unconscious," she snarked.
Nasedo was not to be diverted. "Where is it?" he shouted.
"It's safe," Max said again. The shapeshifter didn't look comforted.
"I want it back. Now."
Enough was enough. This was his place, and he wasn't going to be left out of things again. "What the hell are you talking about?" Michael demanded.
"It has nothing to do with you," Nasedo snapped at him.
"Uh-huh. Thought you were over thinking I wasn't part of things," Michael said stubbornly.
"Actually, you weren't," Isabel chimed in.
"Yeah? Wanna clue me in on why?"
She shot him a pointed look. "Because you were avoiding us, remember?"
Oh. Yeah. But if he was understanding right, they'd found some more alien stuff. And if that was true, he wanted to see it. "Whatever. Look, Max, just go get the stuff from wherever you've got it stashed, and we'll take a look."
"You won't do anything of the kind. You'll turn it back over to me," Nasedo insisted.
"Why? What do the pages say? And what's in the cube?" Max countered.
"That is none of your business."
"It is if you want them back," Max said staunchly.
Nasedo's hackles--if he had them--rose. "I suggest you bring it to me before I forget I am your protector," he threatened.
Whoa. Michael immediately put himself between the two. His hand shot out in warning, but he didn't release his powers.
"You can't stop me, Michael," Nasedo said bluntly. "I've thrown you across the room before. I can do it again."
But after the events of the last few days, Michael wasn't the least bit intimidated. "Yeah? Well, I've learned a lot since then, remember?"
The two faced off, neither in the mood for conciliation.
"Oh, cut it out, the both of you!" Isabel snapped. "Max, go get what you found. The three of us will wait here." Her brother looked at her, and some unspoken communication passed between them.
Max gave a decisive nod. "Right. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. With a last warning look at his second, he brushed past Nasedo and left the apartment.
Once Max headed out, the shapeshifter seemed to calm down; his stance softened. Michael let his hand drop and relaxed in turn. "You sure it's not Isabel who's supposed to be our leader?" he asked. "'Cause she's pretty good at that."
Nasedo's face was serious as he replied, "No. Max is king."
Michael rolled his eyes and muttered to Isabel, "Guess sense of humor comes from the human side."
She ignored him, directing her attention to the older alien. "Have a seat," she suggested, gesturing to the couch. "It's not exactly comfortable, but it's about all that's on offer. Michael," she added sweetly, "why don't you get us something to drink?"
Michael couldn't help but glower at her. Maybe his lame joke hadn't been so far off after all, the way she was ordering him around. Who gave her permission to play hostess? He hadn't, that was for sure. Crossing his arms over his chest, he remained rooted to the floor where he was.
"Honestly," she commented as she sat on the couch next to Nasedo, "Michael has no manners." Her demeanor was casual, but Michael didn't miss her careful positioning. Not so far from the shapeshifter to imply fear, but not real close, either. His eyes narrowed as she gave Nasedo a wide, brilliant smile. He knew that smile. It was her patented 'I'm just too perfect to be doing anything wrong' bullshit smile. And if he had a million dollars, he'd bet it all that she was gonna use it to pump the shapeshifter for information. Okay. Maybe he wasn't so pissed after all. Grabbing a stool from near the counter, he straddled it and rested his arms on the back, ready to watch the show.
"I know it's been a stressful few days for all of us," Isabel was saying. "But if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions about what happened, I know it would make me feel a lot safer."
Nasedo looked at her, not seeming at all affected by her manner. Huh. She could usually disarm her victim within a few moments with that smile. Against his will, Michael was kind of impressed.
"I know you and Michael took care of Bob," Isabel said smoothly, ignoring the shapeshifter's lack of agreement. "So is that it, or can we expect other ali--others from our planet to come after us?"
"It isn't impossible that there should be others, but it's not terribly likely. The technology used to replicate the Royal Four was destroyed afterwards, and shapeshifting ability is rare," Nasedo answered coolly.
Ha. He'd known it. Michael shot a glance at Isabel, but she didn't acknowledge it. "So they'd have to be shapeshifters to come to Earth?" she asked, her attention still on Nasedo.
Michael shifted impatiently, running a hand through his hair. They'd already been over this, before Nasedo showed up. And Nasedo confirmed it, almost carelessly. "Yes. They would have to be to adapt to the new environment."
Annoyed by the other alien's seeming lack of concern, Michael snapped. "Then how the hell are we supposed to go back and save our planet? Or don't you think it's important for us to be able to, I don't know, breathe or whatever when we get there? You wanna explain that?"
"I can't," the shapeshifter said point-blank.
"What?"
"I don't know how you're supposed to save them," Nasedo said. "I'm hardly omniscient."
Michael just stared at him, almost unable to take this in. He'd known they were screwed, but to find out Nasedo didn't have any answers either...somehow being right wasn't the least bit gratifying.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand," Isabel said carefully. "You must have had some sort of plan when you...recreated us."
"You have to realize that there wasn't much time to make plans. You and your brother were dead, and war was breaking out all over the city. If the replicating device hadn't already been built, we never would have been able to get you off the planet in the first place."
"But you had the machine--"
"Device. The technology was more organic than mechanical," Nasedo corrected.
"Device, then. You had it already, so you must have had some sort of plan," Isabel said.
Nasedo shook his head. "The technology was experimental. It had never been fully tested, not on sentient beings. It wasn't intended for that when it was created; using it was somewhat of a last-ditch effort."
"So we were just guinea pigs?" Michael burst out.
"You were our final hope," the other alien answered gravely.
"And you came because you were a shapeshifter," Isabel said, still trying to get to the bottom of his tale. "Were you one of the scientists?"
"No. I was sent to protect you."
"Well, you did a hell of a job over the last ten years," Michael said rather bitterly. "Thanks."
"I've kept the FBI off your back," Nasedo pointed out. "Plus I took care of the man you lived with."
Michael's eyes shot over to Nasedo. "What?" he bit out.
"He was a threat to you."
Michael began to shake his head, feeling the sudden tension in his gut. "No. Hank left town, Valenti said so. After I moved out, he got a job somewhere...." His voice trailed off as he read the truth on Nasedo's face.
"You got rid of him," he said hoarsely. "He didn't move away. You...you killed him."
"Yes." The response was unapologetic.
Michael closed his eyes, then rose and stumbled over to the window. Pushing back the tie-dyed cloth that covered it, he stared blindly outside.
"Michael?" Isabel's voice.
He shook his head, but didn't turn around. "My life with him sucked. I hated it. I hated him." He managed that much before his throat closed up. It was true, too. Hank had been a real bastard who'd seen Michael as easy money, putting up with him solely for the support check he got as a foster parent. Michael couldn't even count the number of times the man had pissed away most of that check at the local bars. Or the number of times Hank had come home drunk to deal out abuse--strictly verbal if Michael was lucky--on the hapless boy. Michael had hated him. Still did.
So why did he care that the man was dead, and at the hands of an alien? And because of him?
He didn't. Hank could rot in hell for all Michael cared. Hell, he probably already was. Michael didn't give a damn. He wouldn't let himself.
Slowly he turned his head away from the early evening light. Isabel was looking at him, worry clear on her face. He managed to relax his own expression; only then did he realize how tightly his hand was clenched around the window covering. Tight enough to leave it crumpled even after he took his hand away. So much for not caring, huh?
"So...so we can't go back to our planet to save it," Michael fumbled, ignoring the revelations of the past few minutes and doggedly getting back to the earlier point.
Nasedo, who'd also been watching him, spoke. "No. You can't."
"Told you," Michael said softly to Isabel, but there was none of his hoped-for smugness in his tone. Only despair.
Isabel was kind enough to keep things moving. "I don't understand why you even bothered," she admitted. "Why waste time on an experimental procedure to recreate us if we weren't going to be able to help?"
"Because Max is the only one who can. If he does not succeed, no one will," Nasedo said evenly.
Michael raised a sarcastic eyebrow. Poor screwed Max. Talk about pressure.
"But how do you know that?" Isabel pressed.
"It is augured by fate. It is his destiny."
Destiny again. Great. "We don't like that word around here," Michael growled. "You can take your destiny and shove it up--"
"Michael!" Isabel exclaimed, cutting him off. She turned back to Nasedo for further explanation. "How do you know it's his destiny? Do you have some intergalactic Magic 8 ball?" she asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
The pop reference didn't make any impact on Nasedo. "It was prophesied, many generations ago. A king would be reborn to save his people, and with him his pod-sib, the consort, and the brother."
"That's a load of crap," Michael shot out.
"Your disbelief doesn't make it untrue," the imperturbable alien replied. "It has been proven, by Max's very existence."
Michael wasn't impressed. "You've got to have had lots of kings. So if this so-called prophecy was even true, it could mean any of them. Why Max?"
The shapeshifter smiled wryly. "People aren't reborn every day, you know. But we knew long before then. All kings have pod-sibs and consorts, but only once have we seen the brother."
"The brother?" Isabel repeated. "We're always born in pairs, so half the population qualifies as brothers."
Nasedo shook his head. "We don't use that term. It doesn't adequately describe the close mental connection between pod-sibs."
"So who or what is this 'brother' then?"
Nasedo's face was solemn, and he hesitated. "It's a long story."
"We're not going anywhere," Michael bit out. "And neither are you, if you want your stuff back."
With a sigh, the shapeshifter began.
*****
"The story begins with a young girl of our people, much loved by all that knew her. She was a happy creature, taking delight in the world around her. She was especially close to her pod-sib, perhaps even more so than most sibling pairs. And this closeness would prove to be both a blessing and a curse.
"Her family were honest, goodhearted people, living in a pod enclave in a city three hours' journey from the capital. The parents were both teachers, choosing to devote themselves to the vision of improving life for all by educating the young. The boy was a dreamer, open-hearted, full of wild imagination, frequently getting into such trouble as young podlings do. And the girl--as I said, the girl was much loved by all around her. And in return, she was sweet, loving and loyal.
"By the time the pod-sibs began what you would call their adolescence, they had tapped into and began to develop their major powers. The boy--the stronger of the two--was particularly good at creating and amplifying mental links, both with and between others. The girl had a gift for manipulating light and other forms of energy. She frequently would entertain the younger podlings with displays of lights like miniature fireworks. The other children were fiercely devoted to her. And no one loved her more than her pod-sib.
"And then one day the unthinkable happened. The planet, weighed down by years of careless keeping, began to shift upon itself. And in the enclave where the pod-sibs lived, the ground shook under their feet.
"The family was at the education center when the building around them began to collapse. The father was killed almost instantly. The boy, who had earlier escaped the confines of the schoolroom and was reading in the outdoor garden, was able to reach his sib through the mental link they shared.
"She and their mother were pinned beneath some debris in what had been a classroom. The boy managed somehow to scramble close, but couldn't reach her except with his mind. He could hear the cries of others who had been trapped. The ground began to shake again, and the boy knew that their lives hung in the balance. Desperately he cast around for something to save them. And from somewhere inside the depths of his imagination, an idea came. His pod-sib's talent was to manipulate all kinds of energy, though she generally stuck to light-form. His own gift was a facility for linking; if he could link with her to provide some of his own strength, perhaps she could form an energy field stable enough to keep the building in place until rescue came. Stretching a mental hand out to his pod-sib, he began the attempt.
"And it worked. Slowly the girl was able to lift away the debris that trapped her and her mother. With it held safely in place, she reached out to encompass more and more of the structure.
"But what the boy did not know was just how badly his pod-sib had been hurt in the first shuddering of beams, nor that calling all her own reserves to support the effort was draining her of her own life force. The longer the energy field was in place, the more it required of its maker. Faster than she could pull strength from her pod-sib, hers faded away. The boy, feeling his link with her begin to slip as she lapsed towards unconsciousness, reached out to strengthen their connection. But instead of latching on to her, the link intersected directly with the energy flow. And that flow, immediately attracted to a stronger source, veered towards him. At the very moment his pod-sib died, the resulting backlash of power jolted to and through and around him, blasting open pathways in his mind and leaving him with a new gift but no sibling. The energy running through him staved off his own death.
"He managed to keep the building from collapsing while 147 people were rescued. Even afterward, he could not stop the wild energy flow. He had to be drugged before his grieving, shocked mind would rest long enough to allow the empty building to fall in upon itself.
"When all was over, nine were dead. Two were the boy's father and pod-sib; another...another was his father's sib, miles away but linked in death. With the girl gone and an unimaginable hole where once their mental link existed, the boy could no longer in truth be called pod-sib. And, although from that day on he had the ability to manipulate almost unheard-of amounts of energy, he never dreamed again."
*****
There was silence in the room after Nasedo stopped speaking. Michael hadn't moved; he could feel the nausea as it rose up within him.
"And the boy...he is the 'brother'?" Isabel said hesitantly, her voice hushed.
"Yes."
"He survived, even though his sister died? And she passed her talent to him?"
"Yes."
She pressed her lips together tightly, taking it in. Finally, she marveled, "They saved all those people."
"He killed her." Michael was almost surprised by the harshness in his own voice.
Isabel swung around to face him. "He didn't kill her, Michael. The building collapsed in an earthquake."
Didn't she get it? "No. If he hadn't linked with her, drained all her energy, she might have survived," Michael argued.
"And she and everyone else might have died!" she protested. "It wasn't his fault, any more than it was hers."
But Michael would not be swayed. "He killed--" he began, then turned to look fiercely into Nasedo's eyes. "I killed her." He heard Isabel's gasp, but didn't look in her direction.
The shapeshifter nodded.
Michael spoke again, dragging the words out. "I thought...I thought she died when I did, when I went after Max's assassins. But...but that didn't happen." He closed his eyes for a brief moment. He'd known it, sometime not too far into the tale, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. Over the last few weeks--it seemed so much longer--he'd struggled with the knowledge that he'd killed his sister, but had finally come to some sort of peace with the idea. He'd only been able to do so when he thought she'd died because he had, that their link had caused her death. It hadn't been him. That had made it more bearable somehow. But now, to find out it had been his fault after all....
Nasedo was speaking, answering his unspoken question. "No. That didn't happen."
And suddenly raw unaccustomed laughter began to well up somewhere inside Michael's chest. There was no humor in it, and it hurt, but he wasn't able to stop it.
"Michael?" said a shocked Isabel.
He shook his head and gasped out, "No, it's...I just...." Regaining a little control, he managed, "Anybody got anything else to spring on me? You know, any other fun little surprises? 'Cause, to be honest, I don't think I can take much more." Moving on shaky legs, he crossed the small room and sat at the counter, his back to them. He was motionless for a moment; then he let his head sink down onto his arms, too weary to do anything but feel.
CHAPTER 38
When Max returned to Michael's apartment some time later, he found his second sitting at the counter with his head down on folded arms. Michael didn't so much as look up at the sound of his arrival.
"What's going on?" Max asked his sister, who'd opened the door for him. He gave a nod in Michael's direction.
"I'll tell you about it later," she answered, her voice hushed.
Nasedo rose from his seat on the couch, his eyes shooting towards the blue backpack Max carried slung over one shoulder. "Do you have it?" he demanded.
"Yes," Max answered, making no move to hand it over. "But you're not getting it back before I know what it is."
"It's not your business," the shapeshifter shot back.
From over by the counter came a muffled voice. "Just tell him so I don't have to come over there and make you," Michael said, not raising his head. "'Cause I'm not in the mood."
A look of relief flashed over Isabel's face, confusing Max even further. Had Michael really retreated so far into himself that Isabel would take this half-hearted threat as a good sign? It must have reassured her, because her attention shifted back to Max and the backpack he held.
"Can I see?"
Max hesitated, then addressed Nasedo. "Do you swear it has nothing to do with us?"
"Yes." The answer was immediate...maybe too immediate. Was Nasedo too ready to reassure him? Better to be absolutely clear about things. "Or with Michael?" Max pressed, needing to be doubly sure.
This time there was a pause; then the shapeshifter answered, "Only indirectly."
Max stood, trying to decide if that was good enough. He had the feeling Nasedo was telling the truth, but he also wasn't sure what had happened in his absence that had Michael so despondent.
"I believe him, Max," said Isabel, cutting through his indecision.
His sister usually had good instincts about things. Max hoped this wasn't an exception. He glanced at her, then unzipped the backpack's main compartment. Reaching in, he carefully pulled out the focus of Nasedo's concern.
The cube sat balanced on his palm, a dull metallic gray in the glare of the overhead light. Nasedo reached out for it, but Isabel got there first, taking it gently into her manicured hands.
"It's not as heavy as it looks," she commented. "What does it do?"
Nasedo didn't take his eyes from it. "It doesn't do anything."
Reaching back into the backpack for the sheets of metal they'd found with the cube, Max told Isabel, "Liz said she thinks there's something inside it."
She immediately began turning the cube over, looking for a catch or opening. She didn't find one.
Nasedo's voice cut her searching short. "Please."
Surprised, Max looked over at him, shocked to see an unaccustomed look of entreaty on his features. Without hesitation, Isabel stepped towards him and held the cube out. Max didn't protest.
Nasedo's fingers tightened around it as he took it from her.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
Max had never seen the shapeshifter look less alien as he answered, "All that remains of my lifemate."
*****
Michael slunk sullenly into English class just before the bell rang the next morning. Hunched down in his seat, his jacket collar pulled up to partially cover his face, he did his very best to look invisible.
He really, really didn't want to be there.
But at least school wasn't likely to dump anything new on him or turn his world inside out, not like everything else had lately. Strange to see school as a haven, but that's what it felt like: something safe and consistent. It might bore him into a stupor, but it wasn't likely to drive him crazy.
And speaking of things that could drive him crazy....
He sneaked a cautious glance over towards Maria's desk. She was looking straight ahead, seemingly absorbed by Mrs. Gideon's lecture. Or maybe she was just ignoring him; Michael wasn't sure which.
He wondered if she knew about last night, what Nasedo had told them. He was sure Isabel told Max about it, once they'd all cleared out and left Michael to himself. Max might've told Liz. And if Liz knew, it was a pretty sure bet that Maria did, too.
And if Maria knew about it, maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with him. Maybe it would deal a fatal blow to any chance of their relationship once and for all. Maybe she--
Michael frowned. He was being stupid. For some reason she hadn't felt any differently about him after Pierce, so why would the fact that he'd caused his own sister's death affect her? Of course, it was one thing to kill an enemy in self-defense. Being responsible for killing your own flesh and blood was another story.
Forget Maria; he was going to drive himself crazy if he didn't watch out.
Not wanting to think about his sister, or Maria, for that matter, Michael commanded himself to shut up. Forcing his attention towards Mrs. Gideon, he did his best to pay attention to the discussion she was leading, then relaxed as her eyes slid over him without any reaction. Good. Doubly good; not only did the mark on his cheek not catch her attention, but she wasn't likely to call on him. Also a good thing, since he wasn't sure what they were talking about.
He managed to catch on as the discussion continued, but was relieved when at last the bell rang to herald the end of English class. Thank god. He'd made it through one period, now just the rest of the interminable day to go....
"Michael?" Damn. So much for making a clean escape. Schooling his expression, he turned to face Mrs. Gideon, who merely held out a sheet of paper.
"Your assignment from Friday," she said. "Since you were out sick, you can turn it in tomorrow."
Without a word, Michael took the paper and turned away, automatically folding it up and sticking it in his jacket pocket. The delay hadn't taken long, only a few seconds, but it was long enough for Maria to have gathered her things and headed towards the door herself.
Maria, who he'd only seen in profile during class.
Maria, who was stepping through the doorway and turning right. Maria, on whose cheek he could see, quite clearly, a disturbingly familiar pattern tattooed in black.
*****
Shock kept him in place for a few vital moments. Had he really seen Bob's brand on her cheek? Had his over-stressed mind broken enough to give him visual hallucinations? Or worse--he sucked in a breath as the idea hit him--he'd inadvertently altered Maria back at the Crash Festival. He'd changed her energy signature, or whatever, and now they were linked. So had he somehow done this to her?
Springing into movement, he burst from the room into the crowded hallway and looked frantically around. Her golden head was nowhere to be seen in the passing throng, and Michael cursed. If only their link worked both ways, and he could sense her the way she could him....
He wasn't even sure what her next class was. He'd never been all that interested in his own schedule, much less anyone else's. Sure, he knew where she'd be first and last periods; they shared those classes and he could always count on the pain or pleasure of seeing her, depending on how their relationship was going. Plus he had a pretty good idea where she'd be for lunch. But other than that, he was lost.
The warning bell rang, and he hesitated, not sure what to do. Finally, reluctantly, he decided to head to his next class. He'd look for her between classes and pull her into the eraser room or something if he saw her; otherwise he'd have to wait till lunch time. But once he found her, nothing was going to keep him from figuring out how to get the goddamn alien mark off her face.
*****
By the time he got to fourth period, Michael was totally spooked. Not to mention convinced he was, indeed, going crazy. Because the mark that marred his own cheek was suddenly appearing everywhere--or maybe that should be on everyone.
It had started with just a couple of guys in the hallway between first and second periods, then a girl in his Earth Science class. From that point on, in each class, in every hallway, more and more people bore the mark--or a rough facsimile--on their cheeks. A wide variety of people. He'd seen jocks, members of the school's most exclusive cliques, members of the marching band--all wearing the same mark. He'd even passed by Mark Blumenthal, drama king, and seen it. And none of them seemed to notice, or care. It was like some sort of epidemic plague, invisible to everyone but him.
The final straw had been Mr. Sutter--West Roswell High's unbending Vice Principal with an alien brand on his face. It was then Michael was positive he'd lost his mind. The one thing he was sure of was that he'd better find Max, and fast.
*****
"So you were basically carting Nasedo's dead wife around in Kyle's trunk?" exclaimed Maria, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Max nodded. "Evidently cremation is a pretty standard practice on our planet."
Sitting next to him, Liz folded her empty sandwich bag into precise fourths. "It's really rather romantic, in a tragic sort of way. He's carried her with him all these years."
Maria protested vehemently. "It's Nasedo, Liz. That's not romantic, that's just...eww." Glancing down at the lunch in front of her, she pushed it away. Ugh. There went her appetite.
"Gotta agree with Maria," Alex said through a mouthful of sandwich. Hmmm. Apparently his appetite hadn't been affected, Maria thought sourly.
"So you gave the ashes back," Liz said, ignoring the two of them. "What about the sheets of metal? Were they pages from the book?"
"Nasedo wouldn't tell us what they were," Isabel reported. "He said once we were ready, we would know."
"Well, that's helpful," Maria groused.
"So what are you going to do?" asked Alex. "Now that you know you can't go home."
"I don't know," Max answered with a sigh. "I think we're still trying to deal with it all. Michael didn't take it too well."
"Well, knowing he'll never go home and then hearing about his sister on top of it...I think it kind of did him in," Isabel reflected.
Pressing her lips tightly together, Maria looked down at the table. She didn't want to feel badly for Michael. She was still too upset with the big jerk, and she was determined to keep that emotion in place. She wouldn't let the thought of what Michael had been going through, how it must have bruised him, interfere with her righteous indignation.
She didn't wish it on him, of course; she hated the fact that he was hurting and probably wasn't sharing that pain with anyone. But this time she couldn't let that affect her. She wouldn't let it.
Giving a decisive nod, she looked up to find herself the center of attention. "What?"
Alex swallowed a mouthful of root beer. "We just wondered how he was."
"Why?" Maria said defensively. "I don't keep track of him."
Liz gave her an odd look. "You have English with him first period," she pointed out.
Oh, right. She did. "He was the same as always in English. You know Michael and school--even when he's there he's not always there, you know?" She didn't miss Liz's quick glance, and deftly changed the subject. "So Nasedo's going back to D.C.?"
"Yes, pretty soon," Max said, relaxing. Maria suspected he was glad to be able to be sure about something for once. "He can't be away from the Special Unit much longer."
Maria nodded, then stilled as a familiar feeling washed over her. The innocuous comment Liz was about to make never got spoken; it was pushed into oblivion by the arrival of a rather distressed-looking teenager. Michael scanned the group, and his jaw tightened.
"Okay, what the hell is going on?"
*****
Michael ignored the chair Max pushed in his direction and stared with hard eyes around him. All five of them bore the same mark on their cheek--a convoluted squiggle that his eyes recognized as alien. A mark that matched his. But none of them looked the least bit concerned about it--why? Couldn't they see it? Didn't they know how dangerous it was? If they--
Alex interrupted Michael's thought stream. "So how do you like our Spirit Week effort?" he asked, his eyes dancing.
Pulled out of alarm and into confusion, Michael shot out, "Your what?"
"You know, Spirit Week, where the whole school dresses up weird and stuff to support our glorious or not-so-glorious athletic teams?"
What was he talking about? "Football's over and basketball games don't start until after Christmas break."
Isabel's eyes widened, but she kept a straight face. "Fancy you knowing that, Michael."
"I'm not stupid," he snapped.
Liz spoke, her voice calm. "Sit down, Michael. It's all right. We just thought we'd come up with a non-Czechoslovakian reason for the mark on your cheek, that's all."
"We were all going to wear it, but thought the school might think it was some kind of gang symbol or something," Maria put in, although Michael noticed she didn't really look at him.
Michael sank into the chair, bemused, as Alex continued the explanation. "So Kyle and I came up with the whole Spirit Week thing, supposedly to try and gear the basketball team up for their season. Kyle's been complaining about how bad they are this year, anyway. So he called Coach Allen who called the principal and got permission. Tomorrow's blue and gold day, Wednesday is pajama day, Thursday you dress up as your favorite movie character, and Friday--this is my favorite--Friday the basketball team and the cheerleaders have to dress like each other," Alex chortled.
Isabel rolled her eyes. "Guess whose idea that one was? Not Kyle's."
The grin didn't leave Alex's face as he protested, "I'm just trying to help out a friend here. You know, make sure our little subterfuge works, that's all. Watching the team get abjectly humiliated is just a bonus. Anyway, people who don't want to do all that can paint the mark on their faces. It'll be around all week, Michael, so you're going to blend in just fine."
"And then we'll have all Christmas vacation to work on getting rid of yours," Isabel put in.
"Oh." Michael sat there, not sure of what to say. Such an elaborate scheme, all to make him feel a little less self-conscious. He supposed he should feel grateful or something, but truthfully, he just felt weird.
By now, he was getting used to being bailed out of all the big alien-based emergencies that arose. Something came up, and they all pulled together. But this was different. This was people doing something, not to help him out of a jam, but solely to try and make him feel better about himself. Unasked--even after all the shit he'd put them through lately--they'd shown their friendship. And he wasn't used to it, didn't know how to acknowledge its importance. Uncomfortably, he said, "What if someone recognizes the brand?"
"They all think it's some kind of New Age prosperity symbol or something," Alex said, dismissing this worry with a casual wave of his hand.
"It's fine, Michael. The only people likely to recognize it for what it is are people who knew Bob. And that's limited to us and Nasedo," Max put in.
Michael shook his head. "It's just...I don't know."
To his relief, Liz kindly changed the subject. "So Alex, tell us about the upcoming Whits performance."
Maria brightened as the bass player began to talk. "It's a Christmas party McGill & Chavez Insurance is giving for their clients. Chris's mom works there, and she got us the gig...."
And sitting there, helping himself to a handful of Max's potato chips, Michael allowed himself to relax a little. Relax and enjoy feeling like maybe, with these five people, he really belonged.
TBC...
continue to chapters 39 and 40
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