The Wild One (13 page)

Max kissed her fingertips. He knew he shouldn't touch her. Not like that. But he couldn't stop himself.

“Should I get her some water, or—,” Isabel began.

He sprang to his feet. “
You
have done enough,” he yelled. “This wouldn't have happened if you'd stayed away from Nikolas.”

“You're blaming me?” Isabel cried. “I didn't do anything.”

“You went out with him after we all told you he was dangerous,” Max shot back. “We knew he was going to bring Valenti down on us. But you had to go chasing after him, anyway.”

“Nikolas says we don't have to worry about Valenti,” Isabel protested. “And he's right. With our power we can get rid of him so easily.”

“Kill him, you mean?” Max demanded. “Suddenly you have no problem with murder?”

“Not if it means saving our lives,” Isabel exclaimed, her blue eyes bright with anger.

“Our lives weren't in danger, remember?” Max asked. “We found a way to get rid of Valenti—without hurting anyone. At least until you and Nikolas started playing around with your power. I hope you had fun, Isabel.”

Liz pushed herself to her feet. “Don't do this, you guys. Let's just figure out what to do.”

Max slid his arm around her waist. She didn't look
too steady on her feet yet. “Isabel obviously needs help figuring out what to do, so I'm going to tell her.” He turned to his sister and said every word slowly and deliberately “Isabel is not going to see Nikolas again. Isabel is not going to use her power. Isabel is—” “Isabel is
leaving!
” she screamed. She ran out of the room. A moment later Max heard the front door slam. Great, he thought. I handled that real well.

“She'll cool down,” Liz said. “What Nikolas did to me got her thinking, I could tell. She'll figure out the right thing to do.”

Max suddenly realized he was alone with Liz, holding her in his arms. It would be so easy just to pull her close to him and bury his face in her hair. That's all he wanted to do.

But he couldn't. Being close to him was dangerous for Liz. Everything that had happened to her today just proved that.

Max slowly eased his arm away from her. “I better take you home.”

“I brought a couple of boxes. I wasn't sure if you had enough,” Maria said.

“I don't really have a ton of stuff,” Michael replied.

He's not kidding, Maria thought, glancing around his room. Michael had his clothes in neat stacks on his bed. A pair of sneakers and a pair of hiking boots were in one corner. A box of CDs and a Walkman sat on the dresser next to a pile of books on the Roswell Incident, a couple of maps, a compass, and a thick binder.

And that was it. Maria had more junk on the top shelf of her closet than Michael had in his entire room.

A picture of her memory box flashed into Maria's mind. It was a big cardboard box covered with flowers that had all these things from Maria's childhood in it. Baby shoes and crayon drawings and old report cards. Even little notes that Maria had left her parents on the fridge. Her parents had saved all of it for her because they knew she would want it someday, maybe when she had kids of her own.

Actually, that was the thing they'd had the biggest fight over when her dad moved out. He'd wanted to take Maria's and Kevin's memory boxes with him. Maria's mom said no way. They ended up giving the
boxes to Maria and Kevin right then, although they had planned to keep them until the kids were ready to move away from home, Her parents still liked to add little things once in a while. Or at least they used to B.D., Before Divorce.

Maria grabbed one of the boxes and started packing the books. Did Michael ever wish he had something from elementary school? Some science project or book report? Or maybe even some special toy. She smiled as she imagined Michael playing with those Trans Formers practically every boy had at least one of.

“What?” Michael asked.

“Huh?”

“You're over there grinning like an idiot,” he teased.

No way was she going to tell Michael that she'd been noticing he didn't have any stuff from when he was little. It would probably come out sounding all sentimental or like she pitied him or something, and he would totally hate that.

“Okay, I admit it. I was sort of daydreaming I was the heroine in one of those romance novels,” Maria said. She figured the best thing she could do for Michael right now was keep the mood light. It had to hurt packing up your stuff—your really little piles of stuff—for the millionth time and getting shuffled off to another group of strangers.

Michael snorted. “You mean one of those girls in those long dresses with their ya-yas hanging out?”

Maria added the CDs and the Walkman to her box. “Yeah, one of those girls,” she answered. “But I
have to tell you, no romantic hero in those books ever uses the expression ya-yas.”

“What do they call
them
, then?” He unzipped a gym bag and stuffed his clothes inside.

“They call them orbs,” Maria said primly

“Oh, baby. You don't know what it does to me when you say the word
orb
,” Michael joked.

Maria glanced around the room, searching for something else she could stick in her box. She spotted a pair of ceramic salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like bumblebees on his windowsill. She picked them up. “Should I pack these?” she asked.

Michael took them out of her hands. “They were from my first foster home. I thought I was going to live there forever, even though the social worker told me it was only temporary. I kept thinking that the Salingers would change their minds and keep—”

A deep flush spread across Michael's cheeks. He tossed the bumblebees in the trash. “I don't know why I've been hauling those around with me everyplace,” he muttered.

“Hey, are you sure? They're kind of cute.” Maria took one step toward the trash to retrieve them.

“Leave them,” Michael ordered.

Maria grabbed the tape and got very busy sealing up her box. She could feel tears stinging her eyes, and she didn't want Michael to notice them. He was obviously already feeling totally humiliated for revealing he was once a little kid who wanted a real home. She didn't want to make things worse by letting Michael see how sad she thought that was.

“Don't you want to know what they call a guy's, um, a guy's equivalent of ya-yas in those books?” Maria asked.

“You've got a lot to learn if you think there even is an equivalent,” Michael answered.

“You know what I mean.” Maria laughed.

“I want to hear you say it,” he said. “I don't believe you can. Not with your innocent little lips.”

“I told you not to call me innocent,” Maria complained.

There. She'd done it. She'd steered them away from a subject that Michael obviously couldn't stand to talk about. She hoped he realized that if he ever
did
want to talk, she would be there for him. She would always be there for him.

Max stared at the computer screen. No matches. How could there be no matches to
aliens and Elvis?
Not two hours ago there had been thousands of matches.

He checked his search request. He had spelled both words wrong. Max dropped his head back and closed his eyes. At least I spelled
and
right, he thought. After what had happened that was pretty good.

He couldn't stop picturing Liz collapsing onto the floor. He couldn't stop thinking about the way Nikolas had just strolled out of the house as if what he did to Liz was no big deal. And he couldn't stop wondering where Isabel was.

“Having problems?” Ray asked.

Max jerked up his head and opened his eyes. He was losing it. He hadn't even heard Ray walk up to
him. This was only his second night on the job. Ray must think he'd hired a total moron.

“No, no problems,” Max said quickly “I should have some stuff on that photographer really soon.” He typed in the search request again. He couldn't stop himself from giving a little groan when he realized he'd put two
d's
in
and
.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked. “You didn't have to come back if something's wrong at home.”

Max sighed. “I wanted to come back. There's nothing I can do there, anyway”

Ray nodded. He didn't ask any questions, but he didn't walk away, either. It was clear that if Max wanted to talk, Ray wanted to listen. But if Max didn't, that was okay, too.

“It's just that my sister is getting involved with this guy …” Max hesitated. It's not like he could tell Ray what was really going on.

“A guy that you don't approve of, obviously,” Ray said.

“He's encouraging her to do stuff, stuff that she wouldn't do on her own,” Max answered.

“Do you think she's in danger?” Ray asked, his gaze intent on Max.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Max answered.

Ray pulled a chair up next to Max and sat down. “You may not like this suggestion, but have you considered talking to your parents?” he asked.

Max wished he could talk to his parents about this. They were great in a crisis. They didn't get all into blame or anything. They were really practical.
They figured out what needed to be done and did it. Of course later they might do some yelling. But first they fixed things.

But Max couldn't ask for his parents' help with the Isabel situation. His parents didn't know that he and Isabel were aliens. Sure, they knew there was something strange about the two little kids they'd found wandering naked alongside the highway. And after they adopted Max and Isabel, they tried to find out their history. But they'd never come up with any answers.

Back then it would have been impossible for Max to tell his new parents the truth about himself and Isabel. He didn't know he was an alien—not until years later when he saw pictures of the debris from the Roswell crash and recognized some of the symbols from his incubation pod. He saw pictures of the alien autopsies, too. And read the stories about the government threatening witnesses to the crash. That's when he realized being aliens put him and Isabel—and anyone around them—in danger. They made a pact never to tell anyone.

Max wasn't going to break that pact now. If his parents knew the truth, they would be in danger from Valenti. Max couldn't let that happen. It was horrible enough that he had brought Liz into a life-threatening situation. He wasn't going to risk his parents' lives, too.

“I take it from your silence that involving your parents isn't an option,” Ray said.

“Not really,” Max answered. “I guess I'll just have to deal with it myself.”

Ray stood up. “If you ever want to tell me more
about what's going on, you know where to find me.” He wandered over to the rack of pamphlets near the entrance.

I'm just going to have to keep a close watch on Isabel, Max thought. I don't care how much she hates it. I'm going to know about every move she makes. I'll get the others to help me.

But first he had to find her. Where did she go when she ran out of the house? Max hoped she went to Michael's. Or to their cave.

But he had a feeling she went straight to Nikolas.

Isabel burst into Michael's room. “You have to get Max off my case,” she cried. Then she registered the fact that Maria was in the room. She hadn't even thought about the possibility that Michael might not be alone. Michael was always alone—unless he was hanging out with her or Max.

Or at least that's how it used to be. Isabel couldn't remember Michael ever even hanging out with any girl other than her. It felt a little strange to see Maria here, looking so comfortable in Michael's room.

Isabel shook the feeling away. It wasn't like Maria was going to take her place in Michael's life or anything. And Maria
was
one of her best friends now. All the humans—Alex and Liz and Maria—had become part of Isabel's “family” the moment Max formed the connection between them.

Isabel had tried to explain that to Nikolas, but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want her to even mention the humans to him. It wasn't like he hated
them, exactly. He just didn't want to waste his time talking about them.

“So what has Max done now?” Michael asked. “Did he actually want you to take your turn washing the dishes or something?”

Isabel knew Michael didn't honestly believe it was something that minor. She wanted to pour out everything to him, but not in front of Maria. For the first time since the connection she had something that she only wanted to share with her own kind. She wished Maria would take a hint and go, but she seemed totally oblivious. And Isabel was too furious to wait.

“He ordered me to stay away from Nikolas,” she burst out. “He's always telling me what to do. Don't use your power. Be careful. Go there. Do that. Blah, blah, blah. He makes me sick. Why does he think he gets to be in charge of all of us? You're the same age as him, Michael. If someone has to be in charge, why can't it be you? Why should he automatically get to control everything?”