Melinda Metz - The Outsider

"Move your hands a second," Maria said. "There's something weird. It's like your skin is shining."

Liz lowered her hands. The patch of skin underneath the little hole did look kind of strange-almost silvery. What was going on?

She slowly unzipped the front of her uniform. When she looked down at her stomach, she began to feel light-headed.

This wasn't happening. None of this could be happening.

But there, on her stomach, were two iridescent handprints. Melded with her flesh. Max's handprints.

Isabel Evans pulled out her top dresser drawer and tossed the contents into the center of her bed. Okay: lips, eyes, skin, nails, scent, she thought. She snatched up every lipstick, lip gloss, lip balm, and lip pencil she saw and piled them in the upper-right-hand corner of her mattress.

Then she picked out all the eye shadows (cream and powder), all the eyeliners (liquid and pencil), all the mascaras, and all the eyebrow pencils. She heaped them in the upper-left corner of the bed, then added two eyelash curlers and a bottle of Visine.

Max always teased her when she did this. He said Isabel was like a little kid dividing her Halloween candy into categories-plain chocolate, chocolate with nuts, hard candy and licorice. But organizing her makeup and stuff calmed Isabel down whenever she was upset. And she was upset now. No, more than upset. Totally panicked and heading toward hysterical.

If her brother didn't get home soon, he'd never get the chance to tease her ever again-because Isabel would kill him. And Michael, too.

One of them had used a lot of power-healing, dream walking, something. She could feel the power crackling in the air-all the tiny hairs on her arms and the back of her neck were standing up. And the smell of ozone drifted in through her open window-the same way it did after a thunderstorm.

That meant something was very wrong, because Max and Michael never used their power just for kicks. And whenever Isabel did-which was a lot because using her powers was fun-they both always chewed her out.

Something big must have happened. Something that made her brother and her friend risk breaking their own rules. But that wasn't the scariest part. The scariest pan was that she had felt a burst of terror from both of them. Not fear. Terror.

Isabel couldn't read Max, or Michael's thoughts. But she could feel their feelings, always. Most of the time she tuned them out. Who wanted to feel Michael's annoyance over some argument with his foster parents or Max's sappy pleasure when Liz Ortecho smiled at him?

But there was no way to block the terror coming from both of them right now. It would be like trying to ignore a volcano erupting in the middle of town, spewing lava everywhere.

Isabel scooped up blushes, and moisturizers, and concealers, and foundations (liquid and powder). She shoved them over to the lower-right-hand corner of the bed. She started to add an apricot-and-oatmeal facial scrub, then hesitated. Should she do cleansing stuff separate this time?

She couldn't think straight. Where were Max and Michael? They had to know she would be going crazy.

Isabel threw the facial scrub in the trash. She hated the way it felt on her skin, all gritty and itchy. She shouldn't have bought it in the first place.

She heard a car pull up in the driveway. Finally! Isabel bolted out of her room, down the hall, and out the front door. Max and Michael were striding up the front walk toward her. Max avoided looking her in the eye, and Michael's face was set and grim.

This is bad, Isabel thought. This is very bad. "Where have you guys been? What happened?" she demanded. Her voice sounded high and shrill.

"Inside," Max answered as he brushed past Isabel.

"Inside," Isabel muttered. She and Michael followed Max into the house. Isabel slammed the door shut behind them. "Okay, we're inside. What is going on?"

"Are Mom and Dad home?" Max asked, ignoring her question.

"No, this is their Clovis day" Isabel answered impatiently. Mr. and Mrs. Evans had decided to expand their small law practice once Max and Isabel started junior high. Now they kept offices in Roswell and over in Clovis, about an hour's drive to the northeast.

Max nodded, then headed into the living room, with Michael right behind him. "Don't you walk away from me," Isabel cried. "I want to know what you did. And don't tell me nothing-I felt the power jolt. It practically knocked me off my feet."

Her brother didn't answer. Max flopped down in the recliner. He rested his head on the Indian blanket tossed over the back, his face gray and pasty looking next to the vivid reds, golds, and greens.

He was freaking Isabel out. Max loved to take charge. He loved telling her and Michael what to do. And now he wouldn't open his mouth.

Isabel turned to Michael. "You tell me. Right now."

"The saint used his powers to heal a gunshot wound-and he did it in front of witnesses," Michael spat out. He sat down on the nubby brown sofa, then stood right back up. He was obviously too wound up to stay in one place.

"A gunshot wound? Are you crazy?" Isabel screamed at Max. Then she glared at Michael. "He's your best friend-why didn't you stop him?"

"I tried," Michael shot back. The expression in his gray eyes warned Isabel to back off.

"Did the police show up?" Isabel asked, her voice rising higher and higher.

"Valenti was pulling into the parking lot as we were pulling out," Michael answered.

Isabel's stomach clenched. Sheriff Valenti scared her. She did everything she could to avoid him. If he crashed a party, Isabel made sure she was out the back door. If he showed up at school, Isabel made sure she was quietly studying in a corner of the library. And now Max had practically handed the guy an invitation to come after them.

"Did the witnesses get a good look at you? Do you think they'll be able to give Valenti a decent description?" Isabel asked.

"They'll probably be able to give him names and addresses," Michael muttered.

Isabel gave Max The Look, the "tell all-or else" look.

"Liz Ortecho is the one who got shot. She knows I did something to heal her. I think her friend Maria DeLuca knows, too," Max admitted. "She must know. She was the one trying to stop the bleeding."

"That means Valenti is going to be at our door in, like, two seconds," Isabel cried. "He's going to find out the truth about you!"

"Izzy-" Max began.

"And it's not going to take a genius to figure out that if you're not from around here, your sister isn't, either," Isabel went on. "How could you do that to me, Max? Valenti will know the truth about both of us. He'll turn us over to some government agency, and-"

"I think we should get out of here," Michael interrupted. "I think we should get in the Jeep and start driving, and I don't think we should stop until we're out of the state."

"Stop. Just stop it, okay?" Max ordered. He sat up a little straighter and shoved his blond hair off his forehead. "Liz lied to the paramedics for me. I told her to say that she broke a bottle of ketchup and spilled it all over herself, and she did. We can trust her. And I'm sure Maria will go along with Liz."

"You don't know that," Isabel insisted. "You put all of us in danger, Max."

"Now you know how I feel every time you use your powers," Max shot back.

"No. Do not even try to make this about me," Isabel yelled. "You-"

"Liz is going to have a lot of questions," Michael cut in. "What exactly are you planning to tell her?"

"The truth," Max answered.

"No way!" Michael exploded.

Isabel stared at her brother. She recognized the expression on his face-he had made up his mind.

Slowly she sank down on the arm of his chair. She had to find a way to make him really hear her. She had to convince him he was about to do something that could destroy them all.