Halifax Page 11

  “What’s this?” Bobby said as he picked Rom’s clown-headed Pez dispenser up off the table. He barely had time to look at it before Rom took it back from him.

  “Careful,” Rom said. “You could take an aircraft carrier out with this thing.”

  “Not really,” Bobby said.

  “Really,” Rom told him. Really.

  Near the end of the table, within a teetering tower of Tinker Toys with its interlocking wooden sticks and colorful wheels, was a tempting plate of peanut butter cookies. Bobby reached in to help himself to one, or possibly two, of the cookies, but pulled back when a spark of light flashed. It illuminated what had been an invisible force field around the Tinker Toys and sent a small electrical shock up Bobby’s arm.

  “That’s the force field I’ve been tinkering with,” Rom said. He got the pun but Bobby didn’t. Bobby continued to pick at the force field, watching it spark. It was kind of fun. “I’m glad it was only set to stun,” Rom continued. “You could have lost your arm of something.” Bobby quickly pulled his hand back, deciding cookies and a light show weren’t worth the risk.

  The last item on the table was begging for Bobby to pick it up. It was a silver slinky, all springy and gleaming. Bobby wanted to play with it but he had finally learned his lesson.

  “What does the slinky do?” he asked suspiciously. “Translate secret alien languages? Melt alien brains?”

  Rom picked the toy up and began stretching it like an accordion. “It doesn’t do anything. I just like it.” Now it was Bobby’s turn. He grabbed the slinky out of Rom’s hands and began playing with it as Rom continued his tour.

  Across the room, Nora was on a self-guided tour of the Garage. She was a girl who was used to acting. She pretended to be the dutiful daughter when all she wanted to do was run away from home. She pretended to be the rich, popular girl when she was really poor and always felt like an outsider. Nora had learned to hide her emotions and here in the Garage, surrounded by things she couldn’t have ever imagined existed and people who, with the exception of Bobby, weren’t even people at all, she still held her poker face. She could just as well have been wandering through the mall as walking through the hideout of alien hunters.

  Nora stopped at Farrell’s workstation. His well thumbed through books were stacked in piles around the desk. The only other personal item there was a picture frame. The photo inside, however, was not a photo at all. When Nora picked up the frame the photo came to life and a home movie was projected out of it in 3D. It was of a beautiful woman and two small boys, not older than ten, one perhaps a year older than the other. They all laughed and playfully jostled for position as they posed for whatever camera had taken the images. Nora put the frame back down and the video projection disappeared. The image froze back into a snapshot.

  Above Nora, on the steel walkway that rimmed the expanse of the Garage, Farrell and Izzy stood watching. Or rather Farrell watched Nora, intently and with much admiration and Izzy watched Bobby, annoyed and with much bewilderment.

  “I don’t understand this, Farrell,” she said. “Why these two? It just complicates things.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have a little help you know?” Farrell said. “Bobby’s tough. We could use the muscle.”

  Izzy was offended. She grabbed Farrell by the arm and turned him towards her. “I’ve never let you down,” she said with growing anger. “Not once. I can fight as hard as anyone. Do you want to see the scars, Farrell?”

  “Come on, Iz…”

  “Then what about her?” Izzy asked, turning her and Farrell’s attention back to Nora.

  “There’s just something about her,” Farrell said. Even he didn’t know why or he knew why but didn’t want to admit it.

  “So this is all about…what? Physical attraction? Romance?” Izzy asked. “Because I know how you feel. But this is against every rule.”

  “Luckily, I’m the one who made the rules, right?” Farrell said with a new tone to his voice. The tone of a boss. The man in charge. He walked away from Izzy.

  She had seen this side of Farrell before. She never liked it. She hated it when he pulled rank on her. It didn’t happen often but when it happened it meant he was serious. All of which meant he was serious about this girl Nora. This cheerleader. Izzy looked down at Nora and Nora turned and looked back up at her. To Izzy they couldn’t have been more different. Different hair. Different personalities. Different planets. Farrell had always respected Izzy and although she had never thought of him as anything more than a comrade or a friend or sometimes even a brother, she couldn’t understand how he could respect her but also be emotional about a girl like Nora.

  Izzy knew how Farrell felt, but she didn’t understand why he felt that way.

  * * *

  The Citroen came to a stop on a cement driveway that was broken apart and cracked. Weeds grew along its edges. It was the driveway that led to Nora’s trailer. It was dark out and moths hovered around the bare bulb above the small front porch. A fern hung from a hook over the porch, but it had long ago died. A welcome mat was at the door, but it was faded and tattered at the edges. The trailer was the victim of fits and starts of care and neglect, much like the girl who lived there.

  Farrell got out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side to open the door for Nora. She was surprised by this gentlemanly act. No one had ever opened the door for her before. No boy. Boys didn’t do that anymore, but Farrell wasn’t like other boys. He wasn’t even a boy for all she knew.

  “No one except Andre knows I live here,” Nora said as she and Farrell stood beside the car. She wasn’t in any hurry to get inside. She never was. “Everyone at school thinks I live at my Aunt’s house. It’s in a nicer neighborhood.”

  “Why don’t you tell people where you really live?” Farrell asked.

  “Because I don’t want everyone at school to know I’m actually on a scholarship and live with my drunken mom in a trailer,” Nora said, letting the words spill out quickly like she was spitting them out onto the ground.

  Farrell looked at Nora for a moment. He liked that she wanted to talk to him, especially about things she might not want to talk to anyone else about. “Why does your mom drink?” he asked.

  Nora let out a little laugh. Where to begin? “She says she drinks because she’s miserable,” Nora told him. “And she says she’s miserable because of me. She got pregnant with me when she was seventeen. On Prom Night. My dad left her and she became a single mother and gave up her dreams of becoming an opera singer or neurosurgeon or ballerina or whatever to raise me. I ruined her life. It’s Earth stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Actually I do understand,” Farrell said. “Most problems are, literally, universal. I ruined my dad’s life too.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I killed him,” said Farrell.

  Nora stepped back for a moment but she didn’t look worried. Just surprised. “Okay, you win,” she said. “Your Daddy issues are way bigger than my Mommy issues.”

  “He deserved it,” Farrell said without emotion. “My father was responsible for destroying Ryden. He was the Chairman of the Committee. He gave the orders to blow up the planet.”

  “Thanksgiving must really be rough at your house,” Nora joked.

  Farrell smiled. “We don’t really celebrate Thanksgiving,” he said.

  “I kind of figured,” Nora replied. They stood looking at one another. There was something between them. An attraction. Farrell had a powerful desire to be around Nora as much as possible. Nora had a powerful desire to run away, but a stronger need to stay and find out more.

  The front door to the trailer suddenly opened and the rusty screen door pushed back. Nora’s mom, dressed in a nightgown and clutching a robe around her, peered out into the night. Farrell and Nora could smell the liquor on her breath even from the driveway.

  “Nora! Nora, is that you?” Holly yelled out, squinting her eyes and slurring her words. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve got b
etter things to do than wait up for you!” She slammed the screen door shut behind her and disappeared back into the trailer.

  “I better go now,” Nora told Farrell. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” Farrell said. He was sorry to see her go.

  Nora turned back after a few steps. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m not worried about you,” Farrell said. “I think you’re tougher than I am.”

  Nora smiled. She liked that. Someone thought she was tough. Someone thought she was capable. She slowly walked up the porch of the trailer and took a deep breath before going inside. Things weren’t getting better but they sure were getting interesting.

  Farrell watched until Nora was safely in the trailer then climbed back into the Citroen. The old engine cranked to life and he reversed the car back out of the driveway. The car’s headlights illuminated Nora’s trailer as Farrell backed up.

  What Farrell didn’t see, what he couldn’t see because he was watching the driveway behind the car, were the headlights shining for a moment on someone standing to the side of the driveway. Someone had been hiding in the shadows watching Farrell and Nora.

  It was Andre Davies.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The halls of Lexham were filled with demons --- or at least students dressed as demons --- and witches and pirates and ninjas. It was Halloween, the one day of the school year when the students at Lexham could dress up in costumes without getting a uniform infraction.

  Rom, himself, was sporting red devil’s horns on his head and a pointy red devil’s tail trailed behind him as he trailed behind poor Mrs. O’Brien. He followed her, math textbook open, as she slowly made her way down the hall, desperately seeking shelter from the small teen.

  “Mrs. O’Brien!” Rom said as he hovered around her, pushing the book up for her to see. “It’s right here on page fifty eight. The mistake I told you about. Right here in black and white and completely wrong. I can’t believe you didn’t notice it before. I mean, I’m sure you’re not the only one who didn’t notice it, but you did fail to catch the mistake and I know you’d appreciate me calling it to your attention.”

  The elderly teacher stopped in her tracks and turned to face Rom with a look so murderous he should have melted on the spot. Mrs. O’Brien had finally had enough of Rom Halifax.

  Rom quickly closed the book. “Maybe we can discuss this another time,” he said sheepishly as Mrs. O’Brien turned away from him and continued her slow walk past the classrooms, students scurrying out of her way.

  * * *

  Izzy stood in the cafeteria, tray full of grub in hand, and watched the students around her. One of them was not what they appeared to be. One of them had more to worry about than things like homework and pimples, on the lower end of the angst scale, or depression and dating, on the higher end. One of these teenagers was not like the other. But which one?

  Taking a deep breath, Izzy tried to center herself. It helped when she was calm. When her head was clear. It helped her zero in on someone else’s feelings. She could never really explain how she did it. In fact, it was hard to define what she actually did. She wasn’t a psychic. She couldn’t tell you the future. She wasn’t a mind reader. She couldn’t tell you what you were thinking. She was a reader of feelings. Of emotions. Izzy could read patterns. She could feel when someone else’s feelings were out of the normal range for their species and those feelings lingered even after the person or alien or being was gone. Feelings and emotions were left behind like a scent and Izzy could track them.

  Working in schools, however, had proven to be a test of Izzy’s skills. Teenager’s emotions were in flux. They were heightened. They scattered in the wind. It frustrated Izzy that she couldn’t do her job as well as she wanted to. So she tried to do other things better. She tried to be tough. She fought hard. She battled physically. Izzy was an overachiever. All the more reason Lexham Academy was infuriating to her. Izzy was failing at her job and Izzy didn’t fail at anything.

  Insecurity. The feeling suddenly washed over Izzy like a wave passing across her body. She wasn’t the one feeling insecure, though. It was Carolyn Holcomb. She brushed past Izzy, oblivious to Izzy’s very existence. She was wearing what could best be described as a non-sanctioned cheerleading uniform, almost as if it was her Halloween outfit, and she was walking with Jon Roberts, who had completely given up all dreams of being the next Blake Griffin and now aspired to be the bottom right yell leader in a pyramid of cheerleaders.

  “I’m totally going to go to cheerleading camp next summer,” Carolyn told Jon. She had a new voice, a higher one than her old voice, and all her sentences trailed off at the end like they were questions even when they weren’t.

  “Oh, I know,” Jon said, his voice also an octave higher. “Me, too. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”

  Carolyn brimmed with excitement. She was now forever programmed to want to be a cheerleader. “Totally awesome. And then we can try out for the squad next year. Of course, I’ll have to lose some weight.”

  “Oh, I know,” Jon said, patting the non-existent fat on his stomach. “Me, too. Totally.”

  Izzy watched as the two wanna-be cheerleaders headed off together. Jon Roberts, former star basketball player, was now a bestie of Izzy’s former frumpy friend and neither of them knew Izzy even existed.

  Bobby, lunch tray in hand, bumped up against Izzy and watched her as she watched Carolyn and Jon. “Cheerless cheerleaders. How tragic.”

  “It is tragic,” Izzy said as she and Bobby walked across the cafeteria towards a table where Farrell and Rom were already having lunch. “But at least they have ambitions. Unlike you, they want something in life.”

  “Oh, I want something, too,” said Bobby. “I want to kill aliens. Present company excluded, of course.”

  Izzy quickened her pace, walking ahead of Bobby, trying to ignore him. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  Nora was in the buffet line at the cafeteria. She pushed her tray along the counter, bypassing all the hot food, all the proteins and fats, basically anything of substance, and stopped in front of the salads. She picked up a large salad in a large container. It actually looked appetizing and was filled with fresh, colorful vegetables. Nora put it on her tray, and then quickly turned it over, looking at the price. She looked around, hoping no one was watching her, and put the salad back, taking a smaller one instead. She pushed her tray along to the cashier.

  The cashier, a middle-aged woman with curly red hair tucked into a hairnet, rang up Nora’s salad. “No drink?” she asked.

  “I’m just having water,” Nora told her, hoping this would be over quickly.

  “You’re on the subsidized meal plan,” the cashier said a little too loudly. “You can get a drink.”

  Nora tensed up and let her hair fall in her face as if that would help her hide. She leaned in closely to the cashier and handed her a five-dollar bill. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m paying cash. Please take it.”

  The cashier reluctantly took Nora’s money and gave her back change. Nora dropped the money on her tray, eager to move on. She hurriedly turned towards the tables, but ran right into Andre instead. She almost dropped her tray. She steadied herself and looked at Andre. He stood, unmoved and unmoving, staring her down.

  “Don’t recognize me anymore?” Andre asked. “I guess you’ve forgotten about me now that you’re spending so much time with your new friends.” Andre motioned to the table where Farrell and the others were sitting.

  “My friends?” Nora asked. “They’re not really friends. We’re working together…on a science project.”

  Andre didn’t believe Nora’s bad attempt at a lie but he didn’t seem to care either. “Are you still going to the Halloween Carnival with me?”

  “Of course,” Nora replied.

  “Good,” Andre said. “I got some tickets to the haunted house. I’ll meet you there at eight.” He looked over at Farrell and Farrell had the nerve to look right back. “Just you. Your friend
s don’t need to come.”

  From their table, Bobby was looking at Andre, too. If laser beams could have shot out of Bobby’s eyes, Andre would have been cut in two. “Andre Davies,” Bobby said with a voice heavy with hatred. “Why do nice girls love guys like that?”

  “She doesn’t love him,” Izzy said quickly. “She goes out with him because she thinks she should.”

  “He’s always been such a jerk to me,” Bobby continued, not even listening to Izzy, still staring at Andre. “He calls me Gomez or Ramos or Garcia when he knows my name is Ramirez. Some day I’m going to get that guy alone and let him know exactly what I think of him and guys like him.”

  Farrell smiled and put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “Save your misplaced aggression for tonight,” Farrell told him. “You have your first assignment. You and Izzy are working the Halloween Carnival.”

  “What?” Izzy blurted out. She almost spit out the undercooked spaghetti she was eating.

  “Sounds totally lame,” Bobby said dismissively as he returned to eating from his own tray of food.

  “Actually it tends to be our busiest night of the year,” Farrell pointed out. “Aliens love Halloween. Gives them a chance to go out without their screens on.”

  “Go out and cause trouble,” Rom piped in from the end of the table where he was eating from a tray full of nothing but cakes and cookies.

  Nora came to the table to join them and sat down next to Izzy. She scanned the nearby tables to see if any of the other students were watching her. She may have been looking for on-the-run aliens but it was more likely she was looking for any sign of disapproval from the more popular kids.

  “Any UFO sightings?” Nora said as she opened the container with her sad little salad. “Anyone crawl out of a pod yet?”

  “I don’t know why Izzy can’t figure out who the alien virus is,” said Rom with a hint of superiority. “That’s what you do. That’s why you’re here. I think your raging teenage hormones are interfering with your abilities.”