Melissa Landers: Alienated

He heaved a sigh against the side of her throat while his fingers halted their advance toward third base. “Great. Just what I need. Why can’t the dinger get her own life?” He pushed Cara away and moved to the other end of the sofa, but not before she slugged him in the bicep.

“She has a life. She’s skipping student council for me.” And Tori hadn’t missed a meeting yet—mostly because her long­time crush, Jared Lee, was class president.

“Why’d you ask her over?” Eric said, rubbing his arm. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“Maybe I should.” Heat rose into Cara’s cheeks. The end­less groping, the insults—she couldn’t take much more of the new and “improved” Eric. Closing her eyes, she counted backward from ten to one and tried to recall the bulleted list of suggestions in Anger Management for Imbeciles. Deep breath in . . . deep breath out. Oh, to hell with it. If this didn’t get rid of him, nothing would: “I signed the contract.”

“What contract?” It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, and then Eric’s lips parted with an audible pop. “That LEAP thing you talked about at lunch?”

“Yep.”

“You’re screwing with me, right?”

“Nope.” Stiffening her resolve, she added, “We bring him home in two weeks.”

“Are you insane? You’ll have to actually go there! No amount of money’s worth that!” Eric reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wet, crumpled leaflet, but his hand froze in midair before it reached her. “Wait. Did you say him? It’s a guy? No effing way!”

Three sharp knocks sounded at the door, and Tori let her­self in, turning their attention away from the argument for a few seconds.

Tossing her long black braid over one shoulder, Tori dropped her goalie gloves haphazardly onto the floor before tugging her Midtown soccer T-shirt over her head and using it to wipe her sweaty face. Then she slung the shirt around her neck and stood in her sports bra and shorts, gripping her waist like Wonder Woman.

Tori shot daggers at Eric. “Hey, culo.” She flipped him the bird, and he returned the gesture. Their hatred had always been mutual.

She was the yin to Cara’s yang—teakwood skin, jet black eyes—an academic underachiever with ten tons of nuclear energy driving her miniature four-foot-nine-inch frame. But they had one thing in common: they didn’t hold back.

In an unusual move, Eric spoke directly to Tori, waving her over to the sofa. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

“Let’s see. Something I’d never believe . . .” She tapped one finger against her chin. “You finally took your nose outta Marcus Johnson’s butt crack?”

“You won’t be laughing when a L’asshole crashes your next slumber party,” Eric said darkly. “Have fun braiding his hair, or whatever you girls do at those things.”

“What’s he talking about?” Tori pulled a chair up to the sofa, then turned it backward and straddled the seat while Cara filled her in on what she’d missed.

“Puta madre! Slow down. You gotta read this before you decide for sure.” Tori held one hand forward while using the other to pull a sweaty wad of paper from her bra. She smoothed it out against her thigh and handed it to Cara. “They were giving ’em out after practice.”

“Us, too,” Eric added, flinging his leaflet onto the sofa cushion. “Marcus’s dad is president of the local chapter. I already joined.”

Cara held the nasty thing at a distance and glanced at the front cover. HALO: Humans Against L’eihr Occupation. The Patriots of Earth. “Seriously? Since when does anyone listen to HALO?” The kooks had thousands of members in every nation, but they were known extremists—the kind of people who stockpiled weapons and looked forward to the apocalypse. “Did they offer you any Kool-Aid? I hope you didn’t drink it.”

“You’re the one swallowing poison.” Eric grabbed his pamphlet and held it in the air like a gospel. “If you believe what the government says.”

Tori leaned forward in her chair and pointed one purple fingernail at the opening paragraph. “This part’s kinda scary.”

With a resigned sigh, Cara scanned the sheet. “The L’eihrs, at least the few we’ve been permitted to see, possess technology, intel­ligence, speed . . . blah-ditty-blah-blah-blah . . . And that begs the question: What could they possibly want from us? Their freakish physical advances are the result of an ancient breeding program, and now that we know humans and L’eihrs are genetically compatible, we believe it’s our women they’re after, to spawn a race of mutants.”

What utter lunacy. She could teach HALO a thing or two about proper persuasive writing techniques. “Oh, come on,” she said. “This is total propaganda. Who takes this stuff seriously?”

“This isn’t a joke.” Eric’s jaw clenched and his eyes hard­ened in a way she’d never seen before. It sent frost skittering down her spine to see the boy she’d once loved disappear inside the furious stranger glaring at her now. “They won’t talk about anything, especially not their weapons, and that telepathy crap they do is—”

“Creepy as hell,” Tori finished.

“Look, it’s done. I already signed—”

“It’s not the only scholarship in the world, you know.” Eric pushed off the sofa, propelling himself to his feet with the force of his anger. “This program’s only for valedictori­ans. So if you say no, the freak goes to another school. But if you say yes, we’re all stuck sitting next to him in class, in the lunchroom, sharing a bathroom. . . . What if they let him play sports?” He raked a hand through his hair, setting it on end. “Think about it. Everyone’ll hate you for bringing him into our lives. And they’ll hate us”—pointing to himself and Tori—“by association.”

Cara studied both of them in shock. “You won’t want to be seen with me?”

Eric’s hot gaze darted to the scuffed hardwood floor between his feet.

“I’m not gonna ditch you, but think about it.” Tori rocked back in her chair. “We don’t know anything about them. What if they’re up to something? What if they don’t let you come home when it’s your turn?”

“They healed my mom. Why bother with that if they just want to wipe us out?”

“Oh, grow up, Cara.” Eric charged to the door and snatched his cleats off the front porch. “They want something for that cure. Nothing’s free. It’s time to take one for the team. Shred the contract or whatever. Undo it.”

“No!” How dare he order her to do anything? “This could make my whole career.”

“No? Just like that? God, you’re so selfish!” Eric was shout­ing at her—for the first time in all the years they’d known each other. “Putting yourself and the whole town at risk, and why? So you don’t have to take out student loans?”

“I’m the selfish one? You arrogant pri—”

“What’s the problem?” Dad strolled in from the kitchen, his hair wildly tousled from Mom’s fingers. He gave Tori’s shoulder a playful squeeze, then scowled at Eric and offered a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Bet you’ve got some home­work to do.”

Eric took the hint. “Yeah.” He leaned in to kiss Cara’s cheek, but instead delivered a whispered warning in her ear. “You better figure out what’s important.” And then he turned and left without saying good-bye, pulling the door shut so softly it barely made a sound. Somehow it stung her ears worse than a slam.

Eric’s HALO pamphlet had fallen to the floor, and Cara picked it up, glancing at the last lines. It is better to die proud Patriots of Earth than to live in quivering supplication to an alien race. Take care that you recognize the L’eihr enemy. He may look human, but he is not.