Melinda Metz - The Intruder

"I just heard some yelling before, uh, around when Alex was leaving," he said.

Oooh, very subtle.

"Come on. Let's go get popcorn." Isabel stood up and pushed her way past him. "I was a total jerk," she blurted out as they started down the stairs.

Max didn't answer. "This is the part where you're supposed to say that there's no way I could ever be a jerk of any kind," she told him, shooting a glance over her shoulder.

"But Isabel, there's no way you could ever-" he obediently began.

"Oh, forget it," she said as she led the way into the kitchen. "We both know that's not true. If you asked everyone at school to come up with one word that would describe me, you know what it would be."

"Now, that's definitely not true," Max answered. "It might make the top ten, but there's no way it would be number one."

Isabel grabbed a bag of popcorn out of the kitchen cabinet, stuck it in the microwave, and hit the button. She stared through the little window. Not that watching the bag expand was all that fascinating. It's just that it was hard to have this conversation and actually look at Max at the same time. Admitting that she'd done anything wrong wasn't Isabel's style. Confessing that she'd treated Alex, a guy she actually cared about, like dog poop was almost impossible.

"Okay, maybe it wouldn't be number one on everyone's list. But on Alex's, definitely." Isabel leaned closer to the little window. She thought maybe the microwave light was too bright because her eyes were starting to sting.

Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, baby, she thought. It's the light. Because there's no way you would cry over Alex, the guy you gave the boot.

"Alex knows you're really stressed about Michael," Max told her. She heard him pull out one of the kitchen chairs and sit down. "I'm sure if you called him up and said you were sorry about whatever went down, he'd be fine with it."

"Even if I broke up with him?" Isabel asked.

"You broke up with Alex?" Max yelped. The kernels of popcorn started to explode.

"Yeah, and I wasn't exactly sensitive about it, either," Isabel said, still talking to the microwave.

"Why?" Max asked. "You know what," he said before she could answer, "it doesn't really matter. You want him back, right? Just call and say that."

Isabel waited until the popping died down, then she pulled out the bag and ripped it open. The hot steam burned her fingers as she grabbed a basket off the top of the fridge and dumped the popcorn in. "The thing is, I don't think I do. Want him back, I mean," Isabel admitted.

She turned around and shoved the basket of popcorn down in front of Max. She grabbed a handful and stuffed it into her mouth, an un-popped kernel singeing her tongue, making her eyes water again.

"Oh." Max crammed a huge wad of popcorn into his mouth, and they both just crunched for a minute.

Isabel knew what Max's next question would be-why didn't she want him back? Good question. Alex was smart, funny, cute. Not exactly the creme de la creme of high school high society. But still. He'd gotten her through some bad times, really bad times.

But now whenever she was with him, she was thinking about someone else.

How could she tell her brother that she'd gone into Michael's dream and seen him with his arms around her? How could she explain that had changed everything?

She couldn't tell Max the raw truth-that recently, every time Alex kissed her, Isabel wondered what it would have felt like if Michael had done the kissing. Yeah, she and Max were pretty close. But he was still her brother. And this wasn't really something she could talk about to a brother, especially because Michael was Max's best friend, practically a part of the family. She thought it might give Max the wiggins to think of Michael and his sister like that.

"Did you hear something?" Max asked. He jumped up and peered out the kitchen window. "I think somebody's out there."

"I didn't hear a car, so it can't be Mom and Dad," Isabel answered. A bolt of pure hope sizzled through her. Michael? She raced to the front door and dashed outside, Max right behind her.

She saw a figure lying on the front lawn, looking half dead. "Michael!" she screamed. She flew over and dropped to her knees next to him.

But it wasn't Michael. It was some guy she'd never seen before. About her age. Green, sad eyes. His harsh, ragged breathing. He was really pale.

Max crouched down next to her. He reached out and gently shook the guy's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he asked. "What in the…"

Isabel jerked up her head as Max's voice trailed away. She saw his eyes widen, then a horrified expression spread across his face.

"Max, what?" she demanded.

He didn't answer.

"What?" she yelled, jerking his hand away from the guy.

"You're not going to believe this. I think he's one of us," Max told her. "I connected the second I touched him. I saw a pod like ours." He swallowed hard. "I saw Valenti. A glass cell. I think… I think he's from the compound."

Isabel felt all the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "How did he survive it?" she whispered. He had lived her worst fear-being held prisoner at Sheriff Valenti's mercy.

The guy's eyes flickered open, but an instant later he squeezed them shut again. "Too big," he whimpered. "Too big."

"Let's get him inside," Max said. He slid his arm under the guy and helped him to his feet. Isabel took the other side, wrapping her arm around his waist. She could feel the guy's tremors as she and Max walked him toward the house.

"You're with us now," Isabel said fiercely. "We're not going to let anything hurt you again."

Max led the way to the booth in the back corner of Flying Pepperoni, where he had told Liz and Isabel to meet him. It was less crowded back there, but Max was still worried about Adam. He was getting his I'm-about-to-freak expression again.

And Max didn't blame him. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Adam had escaped, and he'd already done more new things than most people did in a year. Even stuff as basic as a toaster was strange and amazing to Adam. Yeah, he'd seen pictures of toasters in a book, but he'd never actually used one. He'd loved the popping sound. Max bet between the two of them they'd eaten a loaf of toast that day. Max would have eaten even more, just to witness Adam's pure joy.

"We'll sit here and wait for everyone else to show up," Max told Adam as he slid into the booth. Adam slid in across from him. "So, how are you doing? Do you, uh, have any questions or anything?"

"Not really," Adam answered. He closed his eyes and slid closer to the wall of the booth.

Yeah, he was getting very close to the freak-out zone. Max did a visual sweep of the restaurant. I could use a little help here, guys, he thought. As if in reply to this thought, he saw Liz's grinning face walk through the restaurant.

"Uh, Adam." Max waited for Adam to open his eyes, then continued. "This is Liz. I told you about her, remember?"

"Hi," Adam said nervously. Liz sat next to Max. Adam looked at her and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Liz shot Max a worried look, then she pulled open her bag, rooted around, and pulled out the sunglasses she wore with her Men in Black-style uniform when she was waitressing. She reached across the table and gently slid the glasses on him. He jerked back, startled. "Try opening your eyes now. Everything will look a little less… intense."

Adam glanced around. Max felt himself relax a bit. Maybe Liz had found a way for Adam to be out in public without risking a meltdown.

"Hey, Adam. I've been thinking about you all day," Isabel said as she hurried up to the booth. She slid in next to him. "How did it go? What did you and Max do?"

Max noticed that with Adam, his sister dropped all her I-am-Princess-Isabel-and-all-must-worship-me garbage. She treated him so tenderly, it was almost bizarre to watch.