Alienated (15 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

Awesome. Good to know someone cared.

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

That and sheer boredom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She peered at the concoction for a nanosecond, then pulled a wadded tissue beneath her nose and turned away. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“But…” Aelyx looked down at the bowl in his hand. “It’s full of chocolate.”

“Just stick it in the freezer.”

Fasha
. What now? Perhaps if he complimented her appearance…

He set the bowl on Cara’s nightstand and surveyed her wrinkled pajamas and the snarled locks of hair framing her face. “You look lovely today.” Was that a bit of potato chip stuck to the side of her forehead?

“Thanks, but you’re a liar.”

“Would you like me to…” He trailed off, grappling for inspiration. “Read to you? Or play your favorite video game? I’ll let you win.”

She released a hitched breath like tiny aftershocks following an earthquake. “I just wanna be alone, okay?”

Aelyx didn’t want to go, but he’d run out of ideas. “All right.” He pushed off the bed and retreated to his room for research. He had to find another way to help her.

Once seated on his carpeted floor, he turned on the laptop computer Colonel Rutter had given him, waiting patiently as it hummed to life before accessing Earth’s web of electronic data. After checking his school e-mail account and deleting half a dozen messages from Brandi Greene, he clicked a search engine icon, then typed the words
how to
and paused, considering what to query. Before he’d decided between
cheer
someone up
and
mend a broken heart
, the search engine suggested
how to kiss
,
how to make out
,
how to make love
,
how to boil an egg
.

Sexual reproduction and food—humans’ two favorite subjects. He scoffed at their primitive drives, but then curiosity wrapped its fingers around his brain. Most humans expressed affection by pressing their lips together, a simple act, so why would anyone feel the need to research the process? Was there more to it?

He decided to find out.

Aelyx clicked the suggested links, and for the next two hours, he gave himself the kind of education they didn’t provide at the Aegis.

Cara felt something gritty against her cheek and lifted her head from the pillow to investigate. Potato chip? She brushed the crumbs onto the floor and snuggled deeper into her cozy flannel bedding. A persistent beam of sunlight had escaped from a gap between the curtains and crept toward her face all afternoon, so she thwarted its efforts by pulling the sheet over her head.
Screw you, sunlight
.

She’d survived the first week of HALO’s organized shun, but it left her feeling like a deflated balloon. Of all the students avoiding her, the only one who mattered was Tori, who looked almost as miserable as she was.

Tori clicked through the halls like a tiny high-heeled ghost. Shadows darkened the skin beneath her lifeless eyes, and she stared at the floor while loosely holding Eric’s hand, never once looking at Cara. Did Tori miss her? Probably. Did she spend her afternoons crying in bed and listening to her mom’s Morrissey collection? Probably not. But as much as Cara wanted to move forward, she didn’t know how. She hadn’t been able to blog since the day she found out about Tori and Eric. Heck, she hadn’t even checked her e-mail.

She heard a sharp knock on the door and threw back the sheet.

“
Cah
-ra?” Aelyx called. “May I come in?”

Again?
As much as she appreciated his concern, she wished he’d leave her alone. “Sure.”

The door swung open, and he charged inside without hesitation, his hair loose and flowing behind him. He crossed the room and knelt on the floor beside her bed until they were at eye level.

“I made something for you.” Teasingly, he dangled a sheet of white drawing paper just outside her reach. “But you can’t have it until you get out of bed.”

She considered snapping at him, but curiosity got the better of her. She kicked off the covers and stretched out, yawning. Then with a slow roll, she scooted off the mattress and joined him on the floor. “I’m out. Where’s my prize?”

When he held up her reward, a tiny giggle rose to Cara’s lips. It was Aelyx’s pet, Vero, practically coming to life on the page. The animal
did
remind her of a lemur, but with the floppy ears of a Labrador and the thick body of a wildcat. Vero’s head was cocked to the side, and he held his paw forward while studying her with enormous black eyes. His skin looked baby soft and delicate, like a hairless cat she’d once petted. Extending her index finger, Cara traced the graceful curve of Vero’s tail, looking forward to the day she’d meet him in person. A year seemed far too long to wait.

“You’re so full of it,” she said.

“Me?” Aelyx said, pointing to himself with lifted brows.

“You said you were a bad artist. This is phenomenal.”

“I said I wasn’t great, and that’s the truth. You don’t know what Vero really looks like. I couldn’t get his face quite right.”

“Well, thanks for my present. Can I go back to bed now?”

“No.” He curled his large, warm hand around hers, then seemed to think better of it and tucked it beneath his thigh. “There’s more.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, his gaze darted back and forth between her throat and her lips while those silvery eyes darkened and jump-started her pulse. Seconds ticked by, but he kept watching her mouth. Was he trying to tell her something? Did she have food stuck between her teeth? She ran her tongue over the smooth enamel but didn’t feel anything. That only made it worse. Aelyx swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple shifted. He looked ready to choke. Or barf.

“More?” she prompted.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You said there was more.”

“Oh. Yes.” Glancing at his lap, he cleared his throat and gathered his loose hair to secure it behind his neck. “I did some research today.”

“On?”

“How to mend a broken heart, among other things.” He pushed off the floor and brushed imaginary dust off his jeans. “One of the recommendations involved cosmetic procedures. Sorry, but I won’t give you a pedicure.”

The mental image of Aelyx painting her toenails made her laugh, despite the heaviness in her lungs.

“But I know something that’ll help. Get your shoes. We’ll have to hurry to make it back in time for the interview.”

“Where’re we going?”

A small grin curved his lips. “Let’s just say we’re getting your fight back.”

“You’re pulling my leg, right?” Cara craned her neck, narrowing her eyes at the sign hanging askew from high atop the crumbling brick warehouse. In peeling paint, it advertised the U
PPERCUT
B
OXING
G
YM
. They crouched behind a Dumpster in the back parking lot like muggers waiting to ambush a jogger. “It’s not even open.”

“I know.” Aelyx pulled something from his back pocket that looked like a chrome key fob. “They’re closed for renovations. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and they sprinted to the back door. Why? She had no idea. When Aelyx held the gadget near the dead bolt, it emitted two high-pitched beeps, and the bolt slid out of place with a
click
. He pulled open the door and shoved her inside before closing and locking it behind them.

“What
is
that thing?” she asked, taking in her surroundings. The inside of Uppercut didn’t look any more impressive than the outside. A low beam of sunlight cut through the windows, illuminating a few tattered black punching bags patched together with silver duct tape and hanging from the ceiling at awkward angles. A boxing ring stood in the distance, its sagging ropes a testament to all the bodies that had bounced against it over the years. Speaking of bodies, at least twenty years of bitter, reeking sweat seemed to seep through the walls, the floors, the weights…good God, it smelled like ass in here.

“An electron-tracker. It serves many purposes.” He bent over an equipment bin, and Cara tried not to ogle his backside. After a minute, he surfaced, holding two cracked red boxing gloves and a pair of those circular mitts the trainers wore over their hands in the movies.

“Breaking and entering a smelly gym? This is your plan to cheer me up? What’s next, shoplifting used bowling shoes from the Goodwill?”

“Stop complaining and come over here.” It wasn’t a request. When she reluctantly obeyed, joining him near the water fountain, he held a glove open for her. “Go ahead.”

She pushed a hand into one decrepit glove and then the other, trying not to think too hard about how many grimy fingers had curled into their padded depths before hers. Then she rested each glove against his belly while he tied the laces.

“So now what?” She let her heavy hands drop to her sides. “Fight Club: Human versus Alien?”

Aelyx slipped his round mitts on and beckoned her to come closer. “That’s basically it.” He held both hands up in front of his chest. “Hit me.”

“Seriously?”

“Do it.”

She rolled her eyes and gave a halfhearted swing at his hand, making contact with the tip of her glove.

“That was pathetic,” he scolded. “Do it again. Get angry.”

With a sigh, she tapped him again. What was the point? She didn’t want to get angry—it took too much energy.

Aelyx shook his head, circling her like a shark in the water. “Again.”

When she delivered another lackluster tap, he nudged her arm with one of his mitts and shouted, “Quit
fashing
around.”

Her next attempt didn’t please him, either. He nudged her in the back, harder. “More!”

She wound up and tried to put some force behind the next punch, but instead of praising her, he bumped her shoulder with so much force she fell back several steps. “Get angry!”

“Did you just push me?” Her pulse quickened and her cheeks flushed hot.

“The
Cah
-ra Sweeney I know”—another little shove—“wouldn’t lie around”—and another, harder—“and hide under a blanket.” His stunning face twisted into a scowl as he shouted, “Hit me!”

Flames licked Cara’s body inside and out, and something in her chest popped like a soap bubble. Pulling her fist back, she tensed every muscle in her body, then delivered a blow with all her weight behind it. Her glove smacked Aelyx’s padded hand with a booming
thud
that delighted her ears and stung her knuckles.

“Again!” he shouted.

She swung with the other hand, grunting like a savage, losing herself in a thrill of fury as she pummeled his hand. He didn’t have to order her to keep going. With rage exploding from her body like an ignited fuel tanker, she advanced on Aelyx, pounding her fists into his waiting mitts again and again and again. A left jab—
Tori abandoned me
—a right hook—
Eric stole my best friend
—an uppercut—
the whole school
hates me
—she only paused long enough to shake back her hair before resuming her attack. She may have even kicked him once or twice; it was hard to tell.