The Wild One (16 page)

“Maybe,” Liz said. Or maybe when you got your heart broken, nothing could make you feel any better, she thought.

Every day when she woke up, she did a little experiment on herself. She looked at a picture she had of Max and then tried to rank how much it hurt on a scale from one to ten. She kept hoping one day she'd at least be at 9.9 instead of a full ten. But it hadn't happened yet.

“Alex, tell us again what happened when you went miniature golfing,” Maria said. “What exactly did Isabel say before she kissed you?”

“I have to remind you that I'm a guy,” Alex said. “I know that we hang out a lot and that you might have started getting a little confused. But I do burp and scratch myself, and I even own a jockstrap. I am a guy with full guy standing. And guys don't do the whole ‘then she said, then I said' analyzing-every-little-detail thing.”

“That's nothing to brag about,” Maria told him. “It's healthy to talk about things.”

Liz wasn't so sure. She and Maria had analyzed
every moment of the little span of time after Liz and Max were friends but before they became
just friends
. But it didn't help. It didn't make Liz feel any better. And it didn't give her some great idea about how to get Max back.

“Just tell me what kind of kiss it was,” Maria begged Alex. “You know, like how long it lasted. It will help, really”

Alex put his head in his hands and moaned. He's totally miserable, Liz thought. I wonder if Isabel has the tiniest clue.

She knew Max had to be feeling as horrible as she was, and that made her feel better. She knew it shouldn't, but it did.

A little.

Michael slid open Maria's window and pulled himself inside. He tossed the
Evil Dead
video on her bed. Where was she? He cracked open her bedroom door and listened. The house was empty. This sucked. He'd been looking forward to listening to her squeal her way through another horror movie.

Maybe he should have called first to see if she was even home. But it's not like he planned to come over. It was his last night at the Hugheses', and Mrs. Hughes had asked him to be sure and be there for dinner, which he was. She made a cake and everything. It was kind of obvious that she was feeling bad about kicking him out.

But the whole thing was just so fake and phony. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes's auras made it real clear they
were not having a good time. And Michael definitely wasn't, either. But they all sat there, putting on an act for each other. Pathetic. By the time he choked down a piece of cake, he was dying to get out of there. He made up a lame excuse about wanting to say goodbye to some of the neighbors—as if—and took off.

He wandered around for a while, and when he passed the video store, he got the idea of picking up a flick and hanging out with Maria.
Evil Dead
was one of his all-time favorites. It had this great scene where a guy's hand becomes possessed and he starts breaking all these dishes over his own head. It was kind of like what would happen if the Three Stooges made a horror movie.

Michael thought about taking the video over to Alex's. But since Alex's love train had crashed, he wasn't exactly fun to hang out with. If the two of them got together tonight, their double bad mood might push them both over the edge.

He definitely didn't want to hit Max's house. For one thing, he didn't think he could look at Isabel without starting to scream at her. Plus Sunday night was sort of family night over there. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were always cool about having Michael around. They joked about him being their favorite kid. But he didn't feel like being an honorary Evans family member. Not tonight.

Michael sat down on Maria's bed. Maybe he'd wait for her for a while. He stretched out and felt a lump under his back. He dug around and pulled out a pair of purple-and-orange camouflage pants. He snorted. Camouflage was supposed to help you blend into
your surroundings. It's not like there were many purple-and-orange trees or buildings or … anything.

And the legs on the things were huge. Each leg would hold two of Maria's whole body, practically. So they were really bad camouflage, and if you needed to run—forget about it. But the pants
had
looked pretty cute on Maria the other day when she wore them with that tiny fuzzy little sweater.

Michael shifted around on the bed. There was still something jammed underneath him. He felt around and pulled out a pair of boxer shorts. Wait. What was Maria doing with boxers on her bed?

He held them up, and a smile broke across his face. These definitely didn't belong to a guy. They had little baby ducks all over them. And they did look Maria size. He dropped them on top of the pants.

He grabbed one of her pillows and stuck it under his head. It had that weird smell, the cough-drops-and-flowers smell. He took a deep breath. Maybe Maria was right. It actually did smell kind of good. And it totally cleared his nose.

Footsteps came down the hall toward him. A second later the door swung open and Maria stepped inside. She gave a little scream when she saw him.

“I brought a movie,” Michael told her.

“Actually, I have to make a cake for my mom's birthday,” Maria said.

Michael shoved himself to his feet. He should've known better than to just invite himself over. “I guess it's kind of late, anyway. I should take off.” He headed toward the window.

“Wait,” Maria called. “I could use some help.”

Michael turned around. He felt this big, goofy grin spreading across his face. He tried to control it, but it was like his mouth muscles had a will of their own.

“Okay,” he answered. “But I'm not wearing an apron.”

Isabel grabbed a pair of black espadrilles out of her closet and hurled them into the trash. She never wore them. They had those lame laces that wrapped all the way up to her knees. Who wanted to walk around looking like you belonged in some drama club production of
Julius Caesar?

She snatched up a pair of lavender flats she had to wear when she was a junior bridesmaid in her cousin's wedding. She threw them in the trash, too. Her cousin was getting divorced, so there was no reason for Isabel to get all sentimental about the shoes. Maybe her marriage would have lasted longer if she had better taste, Isabel thought. The shoes had lavender flowers on the toes. That said it all.

Someone knocked on her door. Before Isabel could order whoever it was to go away, Max stuck his head in. “We're starting the movie,” he told her.

“I'm cleaning my closet,” she answered.

“Come on. You know Mom and Dad like us to do stuff together on Sunday nights,” Max said. “I rented a chick flick. I know you liked it.”

“You don't care if I liked it or not,” Isabel snapped. She grabbed a pair of flip-flops and tossed them into the pile behind her. “You just want me down there so you can watch me.”

Max and the others weren't going to be happy until they turned her into a little Isabel puppet. But that was never going to happen. No one controlled her.

She glanced over at her brother. “Are you still here?” she asked.

He left without another word. Good. Everything he said to her made her more furious.

Isabel searched her closet. Not one pair left. She turned around and studied the pile of shoes behind her. How should she organize them. Color? Style? Heel height?

Her phone rang. She picked it up. “What?”

“Hello to you, too. It's Maria.”

Great, Isabel thought. Maria wants her turn to tell me to stay away from Nikolas.

“Michael's at my house, and we want you to come over. We made a cake, and we need help decorating it,” Maria said.

“Oh, gee, that sounds like so much fun. But I bought one of those new toilet paper dispensers, the ones that give off a fresh scent every time you use it, and I'm planning to install it tonight.” Isabel slammed down the phone.

Decorate a cake. Yeah, right, she thought. Decorate it with the words
Isabel, You're in Danger
in big letters.

She wasn't stupid. She knew how to take care of herself. Why were they all treating her like a baby? They probably came up with a schedule for themselves. Max will baby-sit Isabel from nine to eleven, Michael from eleven to two….

The phone rang again. “Hello. You've reached
Isabel Evans. If you want to leave a message telling me to stay away from Nikolas, press one. If you want to leave a message telling me I'm in danger, press two. If you want to leave a message telling me what a horrible person I am for what happened to Liz, press three. If—”

“Uh, Isabel. It's Alex. I don't want to do any of those things. I just wanted to say that I lied to you this morning. If you changed your mind, I would come running back.”

Isabel felt tears sting her eyes. She blinked them away. Alex wanted the same thing as the rest of them. He was another one of the baby-sitters. She had to remember that.

“Beep,” she said softly. Then she hung up. She switched on her answering machine. She couldn't take another call.

Shoes. That's what she needed to be thinking about. Maybe she should divide them into different seasons. But did that really make sense in Roswell? Some of the seasons weren't that different.

The phone rang again. That would be Liz, Isabel thought. Her last baby-sitter.

The beep went off. “Hi, Isabel, this is Liz.”

Isabel shook her head, disgusted.

“I just had a question about … a math problem. I know you're a math whiz, so could you call me?” Liz said.

Liz was going to be valedictorian, and she couldn't think up a better story than that? She needed to take a remedial lying class or something. Yeah, Isabel was good
in math. But she was a junior, and Liz was a senior. Besides that, Max, boy genius, lived in the same house. If Liz really wanted help, she would just ask him.

The next time that phone rings, I'm throwing it out the window, Isabel decided.

Max glanced over at his dad. His eyes had almost glazed over. His father needed a movie with a good explosion every few minutes to keep him awake.

He checked out his mom. She seemed pretty into the movie. Max knew Isabel would be loving it, too. She was the only reason he had broken down and rented the dumb movie.

And now he was stuck watching this movie about a girl who falls in love with a guy who's really an angel. It was pretty stupid. When Nicolas Cage told Meg Ryan he was a messenger from God, she was just kind of like, “Okay, fine.”

Nobody real would react like that. When he'd told Liz that he was an alien, she had totally freaked out. Well, first she'd just thought he was messing with her. Then she had freaked out.

Max wondered if Liz would like this movie. He didn't think he'd mind it so much if he was watching it with Liz snuggled up next to him. Get serious, he told himself. You'd watch the Barney movie and love it if it meant getting close to Liz.

He grabbed a handful of popcorn. He decided to time himself to see how long he could go without thinking about Liz. If he could start stretching out the amounts of time by a few seconds, maybe someday
he would regain his sanity. He checked his watch. Okay, go, he told himself.

He tuned back in to the movie. Some guy was explaining to Nicolas Cage that he could be with Meg Ryan if he was willing to give up all his angel powers.

Would I do that for Liz? Max thought. Would I give up my power, which would probably mean giving up any chance of ever seeing my home planet? Would I—

Max checked his watch. Three seconds. He'd gone three seconds without thinking of Liz.

He sighed. Try going for four this time, he told himself.

Then he heard it—the sound of a motorcycle roaring up to the house. He jumped up and hurried to the front window.

Just in time to see Isabel run across the front lawn and climb up behind Nikolas.

Isabel fastened the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist. “What do you think?” she asked Nikolas.

“It's fine. Are you done yet?” he answered.

It was obvious Nikolas didn't appreciate the joys of shopping, even when they had the entire mall to themselves. Isabel loved it. No matter how bad she was feeling, shopping always made her feel better. And strolling from shop to shop, talking anything she wanted, made her feel like the queen of the world.

Well, she wasn't exactly taking anything. More like borrowing. She planned to leave the stuff in the mall when she was done playing.

She studied the bracelet. “It's a little too quiet, I think. A little too upscale suburban mom's special anniversary present.” Isabel pulled off the bracelet and tossed it on the counter. She wondered where they kept the really good stuff.

Aha. There was a safe underneath the register. “Nikolas, open, please.”

Nikolas gave a little growl in his throat, but he used his power to pop open the safe. “You could do this yourself if you bothered to work at it,” he told her.

Isabel reached into the safe and pulled out three
velvet bags. She opened the first one. “This is more like it,” she said. She slipped the pearl chain around her neck. The heart-shaped ruby pendant fell just above her breasts. It would look so perfect with a low-cut evening gown, like they wore at the Oscars. She was going to have to get her one of those.