SPIN
M/L
Author: incognito jcincognito@yahoo.com
Alternate Universe
Liz's POV.
Rating: R (violence/language)
Stuff you should know: Tess and Courtney are human. There was no shooting, lots of things are different
and will be explained later.
Thanks to Blanca for making the banner. She rocks the boat.
Summary: Something happened in Roswell a long time ago and now it's all screwy and everyone's in a bad mood.
Where is My Mind
With your feet in the air
and your head on the ground
try this trick and spin it
your head will collapse
but there's nothing in it
so you'll ask yourself
where is my mind
-The Pixies
**********************
Spin.
Lots of things spin. Wheels spin on a car. Lives spin out of control.
Right now, what happens to be spinning is a bottle.
A group of my peers sit on the floor in front of me, in a circle. Some of them are smoking cigarettes, some of them are smoking weed. All of them are looking at the bottle in anticipation.
I'm not.
I already know what’s going to happen. Michael spun the bottle so there is not doubt it's going to land on Maria. They'll kiss. Isabel will go next, it will land on Alex. They'll kiss and so on and so forth.
They control the bottle with their alien powers. I know this. Maria and Alex don't believe me. They don't believe me because it doesn't really matter to them. They could care less, as long as they get to kiss the people they’re not willing to admit they’re in love with.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear: Every single kid in this town has at some point been accused of being an alien. So it doesn't really surprise Alex and Maria that I should accuse Max, Michael and Isabel.
It's Isabel's turn now. It landed on Alex.
What a surprise.
Max is acting weird tonight. I don't even know why he's playing. Tess isn't here.
He never plays when Tess isn't here.
The bottle spins. It's brown, and empty, and clanking annoyingly on the linoleum floor. The group holds their breath. Who is Max going to kiss tonight? They want to know.
And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure if I could care less, or if I need to know to survive.
Obsession is weird like that.
One thing is for sure, It's not going to be me. I'm not playing. I never play. Maybe it's going to be Courtney.
The group lets out their breath as the bottle comes to a halt between Alex and Michael.
Strange. Why would Max want to kiss Alex or Michael?
They look down at the bottle, then their eyes follow the invisible line where the bottle is pointing, between them, on the couch behind them.
Guess who is sitting on the couch behind them?
I am.
"I'm not playing." I defend myself as everyone looks at me suggestively.
Then Max looks at me. He looks straight at me. The way that makes your insides quiver and shudder and die.
Max only makes eye contact with people when it's convenient for him. He's never looked me in the eye before. I think I'm getting sick, I think I’m panicking. He's not supposed to like me. This is not how things are supposed to go.
Need I make myself more clear? I look at him right back. "I'm not playing." I say it a little more forcefully this time. I mean it in the most literal way possible.
He shakes his head slightly, "Neither am I."
There are a few things that fly through my mind.
1.) What the hell is Max talking about.
2.) I'm too old for this.
3.) How the hell did I get here?
umm......
I think I'm going to need to start a little earlier.
But where? The obvious choice would be the infamous 'beginning'.
I don't even know where that is. Maybe it's the day I was partnered up in Bio with Max. Maybe it's the day Max ran over Tess with his car. Maybe it's the day a spaceship crash landed on earth. Maybe it's the day I was born, the day he was born, the day the universe was created.
How about I just pick a spot and go with it?
How about the day my mind started spinning out of control.
We need to stop and rewind. Watch the reels of the movie spin backwards....
Stop.
Rewind.
Play....
*****
In a couple weeks a bottle will be pointing at me. Only, I don't know that yet.
I'm working right now. So is Tess, Courtney, and Maria. It's dark outside. Friday night so only the regulars are here.
The regulars are the people that have nothing better to do on a Friday night than keep the working class from going home. Specifically, the regulars are the old woman who sits in the corner (whom we so graciously refer to as 'the woman who sits in the corner'), and Max and his posse (which consists of Michael and Isabel).
Of course, Max is here because he knows that Tess is working.
Me and Maria don't mind working Friday nights. We like it quiet. However, Tess and Courtney hate working Fridays, they have better things to do. They actually could leave if they wanted to, we don't need them, but they’re trying to save up enough money to get an apartment together.
This is how it goes: Courtney is Maria's older sister. One year older, to be exact. Tess is Courtney's best friend. They should be in a grade above us, they should have graduated last year, but they failed. And now we're all seniors together.
What fun.
They failed because they don't want to leave Roswell.
For the life of me, I can't figure out why.
Me and Maria and Alex, we can't wait to get the hell out of this place. I'll explain later. Now, I must pretend to work.
Me, Tess, and Courtney lean our backs against the counter, watching the boring scene play out before us. Every once in a while I wipe the little droplets of sweat off my forehead and take a swig from my bottle of Cherry Coke. Courtney makes loud, bored groans every once in a while and Tess bobs her head side to side to a song playing in her mind.
Max, Michael, and Isabel mostly sit in silence. Every once in a while Michael attempts to leave and you can hear their silent arguments if you listen hard enough. Max doesn't want to leave until Tess's shift is over.
The guy amazes me. He's really good at this secret obsession thing. He does a great job making everyone think he's not really obsessed with Tess. You can tell though if you sit around and watch him every night like me and Courtney and Maria.
I sort of feel sorry for him. And I’m not even gonna try to understand what exactly he sees in her. Oh well, I don't really care a whole lot anyway.
I can hear Maria as she stacks tubs of ketchup in the back room.
Courtney chuckles to herself and we all direct our attention to her. On a boring night like this, your willing to hear anything that anybody has to laugh about. She nudges Tess on the arm, "Max Evans is staring at you again."
Tess and I groan. We were expecting something funny, or at least something new. She replies in the non-chalont way that she usually does, like nothing is important enough. "Remind me again why I should care?"
Maria walks into the front, having heard most of our conversation, "Who is staring at who?" She joins us in our positions against the counter. I have to admit, we look sort of intimidating when we sit like this, in a perfect line. This is how we drive out customers.
I hand my Coke to Maria, "I'll give you two guesses."
"Oh." She already knows. She throws back the Coke and downs the rest.
Courtney leans forward. You can tell when Courtney is thinking evil thoughts. You can practically see her eyebrows form into a sinister V shape. "I don't know," she says, "I'd fuck 'im." Courtney can be really crude like that.
I smile. I smile because I know exactly what Maria is going to say next.
Maria smiles back at me, " That's a surprize," she says.
Tess raises her eyebrows and glances at Courtney, "Well...why don't you then?"
Courtney opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by Tess shoving the order pad in her hands, "Go take their order." She scuffles into the back and you can practically feel Max's eyes following her.
Courtney shakes her head and thrusts the order pad at me, "Parker, be a doll and take their order, will you?" She follows Tess.
Maria shakes her head at me sadly, "Do you think I could get a sister divorce?"
I shrug. "I'll be back." I get to go take their order now.
Yay. me.
My voice is monotonous as I go through the usual spiel without a pause. I want them to know exactly how much I don't want to be here. "Welcome to the Crashdown cafe my name is Liz I will be your friendly waitress our soup of the day is clam chowder can I get you something to drink or are you ready to order."
Max doesn't even attempt to look at me, "This isn't your section." How rude is that?
Whatever. "Welcome to the Crashdown cafe," I repeat, "my name is LIZ I will be your friendly..."
His face hardens even more, if that's possible. "Where is Tess...this is Tess's section." He says this like he's talking to the menu in front of him. Michael leans over and softly bangs his head repeatedly against the counter.
I'm angry now. I'm really angry now. "Tess is probably doing lines in the bathroom, now do you want something or not?"
He clenches his jaw. He still doesn't look at me of course. He looks at the ground. "No." He leaves. Michael and Isabel follow.
Courtney peers around the corner of the back room, "Well halla-fucking-luia, now we can go home." She says this too loud.
The lady that sits in the corner starts barking like a dog. Did i mention she's insane? Well she is.
Something is bugging me. Something about Max is bugging me, I need to go upstairs.
My mind is beginning to spin.
*****
Everyone goes home after the police drag the barking lady out the door.
It's Friday, so were used to it.
I pass by the empty booths on my way to the stairs. One of them is not so empty.
A jacket.
Max left his jacket here.
So what do I do now? Do I put it in the back?
I don't really want to touch it. I don't know why.
I could just leave it there, say I never saw it.
Yea.
I make my way up the stairs and into my room. Privacy at last. Time to get lost in my thoughts.
If Roswell were to take on a human form, grow arms and legs and start walking around, the first thing it would do is blow it's own head off.
Yes, it's that sad.
Do you want to know the ingredients for a ticking time bomb?
Take a shitty town, slap it into the middle of nowhere, add an alien conspiracy, throw in a little gossip and fear. There you have it, now go blow something up.
It wasn't always this way.
It all started with a couple of kids screwing around in the desert. Exactly who it was that found the cave is a detail people still argue about in the halls at school.
Regardless, somebody found it. That somebody showed it to someone else, and so on. The number of people that knew about this grew at an exponential rate. Pretty soon everyone wants to know, what three people among us are aliens?
Funny thing is, lots of people in our school hang out in threes. Me and Maria and Alex, Max and Michael and Isabel, Tess and Courtney and Pam, Kyle and Tommy and Pauli. The list goes on.
That's when everyone started to hate each other.
It was seventh grade I believe.
We never told any adults.
The hate has grown since then, it's just grown a little quieter. It lives in the silence, in the quiet. You can feel it, everyday. When your talking to someone, you can hear it lingering between the words.
That's why the people here try to be as loud as they can. To fill up the silence. They snort speed and drop acid so the silence is easier to take.
I don't know if this alien ordeal is the only thing wrong with Roswell. People don't really care who the aliens are anymore. Because this whole thing has taught us one thing: It doesn't matter. We're all the aliens. Each one of us is as alienated as the next.
Technically though?....I have my theories.
I think it's Max and Michael and Isabel. Correction, I'm pretty sure I know it's them. I don't have proof. I wouldn't do anything if I had proof anyway. Roswell doesn't need to know.
I need to get out of this town, but it's like a snake pit sometimes. People say it's cursed, whoever leaves will probably just come back in a year or so and take on some underpaying job.
Not me.
I'll get out.
I look at the clock. I've been laying here for hours now.
I hear something outside. A voice. I walk to my window and open it.
The voice is singing. It echoes eerily off the brick walls of the alley. "Little Lizzy Paaaarkeeeerrrr."
Little Lizzy Parker. Tess used to call me that, a long time ago.
I climb out my window and hear the voice hiccup and begin again, "I know your up there little Lizzy Parker."
I peer over the edge. Tess stumbles around in the stream of light below, flailing around a bottle. She must be drunk.
" There you are."
"Tess?" Her hair is messed up. She must be really drunk because you never see her hair messed up. "What are you doing here?"
"I just came..." She backs up onto the street so that she can see me a little better, "came to ask you a favor."
I'm starting to worry. Tess never lets down her guard. I've known her for a long time. Don't get me wrong. We're not friends, we just know each other.
"See little Lizzy Parker, I'm gonna kill somebody..And I'm gonna need your help."
Ok. Maybe she's a little drunker than I thought.
"Tess, maybe you should come up here."
"Don't worry little Lizzy Parker, I've got it all figured out."
She reaches behind her back and pulls out exactly what I expect her to, a gun.
I think she's starting to cry.
I think she's serious.
She clenches her eyes shut tightly, "If you don't help me, I can always get little Max Evans to help me, he'll do anything for me, won't he? Anyone will do anything for me."
I see a light in the distance down the street. A car. "Tess, get up here."
She's just drunk.
That's all.
She shakes her head and stumbles back more into the street. "Nobody wants to help me little Lizzy Parker."
I wish she would stop calling me that.
The car is getting closer. It's going too fast.
"Tess, get out of the fucking street."
She drops the bottle on the ground and waves at me, "Goodbye."
No. No no no.
The car will see her.
It's not slowing down.
Shit.
Ok.
I don't wanna see someone die.
I can't look at her. I can't watch someone die.
I'll watch the wheel, just focus on the wheel. The wheel spins faster. Around and around.
Clunk
It stops.
I hear someone screaming, "What the fuck was that?"
I hear doors slamming, I hear someone have a breakdown. I hear...crying...then silence.
I peer over the ledge, I can't look at the body. No looking at the body.
It's Max. He probably came to get his jacket. Isabel and Michael are with him. They are all panicking. He's leaning over Tess.
No.
No looking at the body.
They knocked her up onto the sidewalk.
There's blood on the street.
I can't do this.
I hear Isabel's panicky whisper, "Is it working?"
No one responds.
Max stands up.
"It's done," Michael says. "You got her, lets go."
Max shakes his head. This is the most emotion I've ever seen him show. "We can't just leave her here."
"The hell we can't." Michael grabs Max's arm and shoves him into the car.
They leave.
I wait.
She's going to wake up. Because they’re aliens.
Please wake up.
I'll be here for her when she wakes up.
Ten minutes go by.
Please wake up.
I didn't sign up for this.
Twenty minutes go by.
Please.
She's moving.
Oh fuck, she's moving.
She's crying.
She's standing up and crawling up the ladder.
"Liz?"
I can't look at her, she still looks dead. She's covered in blood.
"What happened to me?"
I shake my head, "I don't know."
Her hair. There's blood in her hair. I wonder if it will come out.
She sits on my lawn chair. She sits for a long time.
She stands up, "You can't tell anyone...you can't tell anyone what happened tonight."
"I won't."
She's talking about the gun.
"I was drunk."
"I know."
It's ok now. Everything is ok. She's alive, she's a bloody fucking mess, but alive.
And the spinning? It's getting faster.
I would like to know who Tess wants to kill.
Tess wants to know why she's covered in blood.
I don't blame her.
I have to tell her something. I examine her face carefully, there are still cuts and scrapes. He didn't heal her all the way, that could account for the blood perhaps.
The boy is a thinker.
"You got hit by a car." I wipe some of the blood off her arms with a warm washcloth.
"Did you see who it was?"
I shake my head. "They just drove off, it was dark."
I help her wash her hair. We have to wash it twice to get all the red stains out. Seeing Tess all bloody like this, you just know your seeing something your not supposed to. Tess is usually the picture of perfection, not a hair out of place. I feel like I'm violating her.
Anyway...
So Max Evans is an alien.
Notice my complete lack of surprise.
Told you.
I'm not telling Tess. Like I said, Roswell doesn't need to know. I could care less what happens to this place when I leave, but not while I'm here.
Not while I'm here.
I take a shirt out of my dresser for Tess to wear and she takes off her own. I notice a couple things.
1.) Her ridiculously elaborate purple bra. I swear the girl has 50 bras, one to match each of her outfits. I have about five, all white, I bought them in bulk at Target, I bet that would make Max Evans cringe.
2.) A silver hand print, right above her navel. Maybe that's how they mark their territory. Instead of pissing they leave telltale silver hand prints.
She rubs at her stomach. "...the fuck is this?"
We need to cover all of our bases here. I'm trying to hide two things at once. I don't want people to know who the aliens are and I don't want Tess to get in trouble for not killing anyone. "Where is the gun?"
She clutches at her back in panic. "Shit."
We find it in the shadows. It had been knocked halfway up the alley. I ask her where she got it and she tells me she stole it from Kyle's dad.
Wonderful.
While we're down there we put some water over the bloodstains on the street.
And finally, we put all her bloody clothes in a plastic bag. She holds up the bag to me, "So what do we do with this?"
I nod. "I think we should burn them."
I don't really know where that came from. I want to know exactly when I became a character off of 'Goodfellas'.
She understands though. Blood means panic, and if people know she's been hit by a car there going to want to know what she was doing outside of the Crashdown. Flailing a gun around and threatening peoples lives?..Probobly not acceptable.
There is one freeway that goes through Roswell. It used to bring in a lot of tourists but now it's mostly empty. We drive to where the freeway overpasses a desolate road. We bring a can of gasoline and a book of matches, and we sit by the brightly burning fire as the flames lick the sky.
She says thanks to me when I drop her off at home.
I think me and Tess just bonded.
I just hope she doesn't go off and kill anyone.
In about an hour, my mom will come into my room and wake me up, but before that there is something I want to do. I go through the front door of the Crashdown and look at the jacket just sitting there in the booth.
I wonder what alien's jackets smell like. I'm still not going to touch it. That would be even more of a violation than seeing Tess all bloody. How can I touch the jacket of someone that doesn't even attempt to know my name.
I wonder what Max thinks about when he thinks about Tess. I wonder if behind that stoic demeanor is just a flurry of dirty thoughts.
I've only been alone with Tess a few times. When your alone with her, she's not really that bad. But Max doesn't know this. Maybe he's just a horny teenager, maybe he just wants her body like everyone else in school.
I set my knee on the booth and lean over. It's a black jacket, polyester. I'm glad it's not leather. Maria told me how they make leather and now leather makes me want to hurl. I sniff at it. It smells good.
It smells like a boy.
It's official, Max Evans smells like a boy. I'm glad I wasted my time on this.
I'm going to bed now. I can still sleep for about forty five minutes.
You might want to fast forward to Monday, nothing happens over the weekend.
Stop.
FF.
Play...
*****
Me and Tess meet in front of school like we agreed upon. We just want to check in with each other, make sure nobody found anything out. She tells me the hand print is gone.
When were done talking, Tess looks towards the school door expectantly, "Shall we?"
"You go ahead."
I don't want to walk into school with Tess. If I walk into school with Tess then people will start talking to me and pretending like they care about what I have to say.
I'm not up for that.
Tess nods in understanding. She probably doesn't want to have to explain to people why she walked into school with her coworker.
Fine with me.
After she's gone I walk through the double doors and lean against my locker, waiting for Maria.
Max Evans walks by, he deserves a fucking Oscar the way he's playing off like nothing happened.
Jesus Christ, I need to go to the bathroom.
I'm in the stall and I hear some girls come in and start to chat. I'll bet their freshmen 'cause they have these high pitched voices you don't grow out of until the middle of junior year.
"Oh my god," One of the girls says, "Did you see Max Evans today?"
Oh lord, here it comes.
"Oh my god he is like, soooooo hot, did you see that shirt he's wearing?"
For the love of god, somebody please put me out of my misery.
I open the stall and the girls jaws drop to the floor. Alls they know is that I'm a senior, and therefore, there is a possibility that I know Max Evans.
One of the girls is smoking, and her cigarette falls to the ground, "We didn't know you were..."
"I hear he's gay." I say.
"What?? no way."
I fake smile. "Totally."
Why am I doing this? Cause it's fun. You see, Max Evans, he's not a normal looking high school boy. He looks like he just stepped out of a Calvin Klien advertisement. With his huge arms and perfect stomach. And it makes me sick that a whole class of girls would spread their legs in a heartbeat if they thought they had a chance. I can't really blame them though, I was probably like that too. But really now, it's time to get over it. Time to grow up.
And me? Well, Max is just not my type. I don't want a model, I want a real guy. Maybe someone good looking, like Alex without the built in brotherly instinct.
Oh....and one more thing. If I ever fall in love, it's not going to be in this town. I'm willing to bet money on that.
Anyway, this isn't about me.
At lunch time I meet Alex and Maria in the gym. We stay in the gym at lunch because it's hot outside and the gym is air conditioned. I use Alex's lap as a pillow.
The crumbs from his bag of chips are getting in my hair.
"Johnny Football Hero," Alex says, "Ten 'o clock."
Oh yay. Johnny Football Hero.
Johnny Football Hero (AKA Kyle) is what happens when you put 2 parts jock, 1 part Buddha in a blender and serve it over ice. Johnny Football Hero got a little freaked out after the cave was discovered and became a lovely member of the world of organized religion. Johnny Football Hero is not my friend, he is my acquaintance. Johnny Football Hero is Tess's boyfriend.
And Johnny Football Hero is headed this way.
"Liz, can I talk to you for a second?"
Sure you can, Johnny Football Hero.
He pulls me to the corner of the room, "I think Tess should stay with you."
"What are you talking about?"
"She's been acting weird lately, I think she's having problems at home."
Gee, you think?
"So...she can stay with Courtney."
Kyle frowns, "I hate Courtney."
"Why are you asking me?"
"I don't know who else to ask!"
We turn our heads as the door of the gym opens and Max and his posse walk in. You can practically feel Kyle shudder. He just hates that another man is obsessed with Queen Tess. He's insanely jealous.
For absolutely no reason. They both adore each other so much it's enough to make a girl lose her lunch.
I would like to get out of here now.
"You like him, don't you." Kyle says.
EXCUSE ME?
"Ok, That would be a big fat no."
"You guys should go out."
"You should mind your own fucking business." And I used to be such a nice girl.
"Jesus," Kyle shakes his head, "Why are you like that?"
"I'm leaving now."
"You have problems."
HAH. Understatement of the year, Johnny Football Hero. Have you looked at your girlfriend lately?
I nod my head, "I have problems, that’s really insightful, are we done?"
"Yea," he sighs and looks around the gym, "Were done."
I don't know what had gotten into me today, I'm not usually queen bitch. Maybe it's because I just covered up an attempted murder and an alien conspiracy.
Really puts things into perspective.
Did I mention how tired I am?
Fast forward time.
*****
Biology, last period. And wouldn't you know, absolutely everyone is in this class. Everyone: Me, Maria, Alex, Max, Michael, Isabel, Tess, Courtney, Johnny Football Hero.
Ms. Black blabs in the front of class about assigning lab partners.
neato.
"Maria DeLuca and Isabel Evans."
Ohh boy...poor Maria.
"Alex Whitman and Michael Guerin."
Yea Ms. Black, that’s gonna turn out good.
"Courtney DeLuca and Kyle Valenti."
Oh lord. I bet she's gonna put Max and Tess together. I don't know if that’s amusing or really bad.
"Tess Harding and Rose Walker."
Who the fuck is Rose Walker?
I look around the room and try to send Ms. Black brain waves. There is not a lot of students left. Pam Troy will have to do.
Put me with Pam Ms. Black. You know you want to put me with Pam.
"Max Evans and Liz Parker."
huh?
lkdjfalksdj
Wait just a damn second.
The class lets out a collective groan and moves to their new places. I don't move.
Max reluctantly picks up his bags and sits next to me.
I'm not happy about this either, Max Evans.
"Your Tess's friend."
I groan. Yea, I'm Tess's friend. That's how I define myself, that's how I introduce myself. I go around saying, HI, I'm Liz, I'm Tess's friend.
I wonder if he has some sort of Tess radar. If that's how he sees people. He probably differentiates people as "Tess" and "Not Tess."
"Your Isabel's brother." Take that.
I stare at the books in front of me.
"Max." He says.
" Liz." I say.
He nods nonchalantly at Tess, "What happened to her?"
HA.
HAHA.
I keep my face perfectly still. "She was in the stock room and a box full of glasses fell on her."
He furrows his brow, "She told you that?"
Way to let your guard down, Max.
"She didn't need to tell me, I saw it with my own eyes."
Don't ask me why I'm saying this. Either I majorly want to fuck with his head, or I want to let him know his secret is safe.
"Ok," he says, like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying, "So is she ok?"
"Why don't you ask her?"
And that is the end of our lovely conversation. As Ms. Black babbles on I find myself wondering about Max and Tess more and more. I think I actually like to see Max cringe whenever Johnny Football Hero and Tess hold hands and pass notes. It's sort of...disgusting and amusing at the same time. I wonder if he thinks about her like...all the time. I wonder if he's thinking about sex right now.
God, when did I become such a sick person.
One thing is for sure, this is going to be an interesting assignment.
*****
You want to know what gets me the most?
Maybe if I grew up in a different time, in a different place, I would have turned out differently.
If I was just born a few months later, my parents would have had time to move. But no, they couldn't move, it would be too much stress on the baby. "We'll just move later," they lied to themselves. "Maybe after the baby is born."
You guessed it.
They never did.
It turns out babies can be really expensive. So what better than to open a themed restaurant in the alien capital of the world?
"What about California?" Maria wants to know.
"Too many palm trees." Says Alex.
Maria and Alex. The two redeeming qualities of Roswell. If I had been born a few months later, I never would have known them.
We're picking out colleges. Most people pick out colleges by what they want to major in.
Not us.
First we have to decide on a state, on a city.
When we leave, we're leaving together.
"What about Oregon, or what about...what about Seattle."
Alex nods, "Lets go somewhere cold."
"Yea." That's me adding my two cents.
Maria is wearing her orange shirt. It must be Tuesday. She only wears her orange shirt when she's in a good mood and she's only in a good mood on Tuesday. She calls it color therapy.
Speaking of therapy......"I have to go."
"Me too," says Maria, "I have to go meet Isabel."
I don't think Maria minds working with Isabel. Isabel isn't as bad as she used to be. See, when all this alien stuff came about and Roswell went the way of the damned, everyone was looking for the three most suspicious people.
Not me. I was looking for the three guiltiest people. And Isabel, she's got guilt written all over her face.
I think they feel guilty because of all the people accused of being aliens. It ruined a lot of people. Isabel got quieter, lost all her friends.
And since Maria is on her own personal mission to save the students of West Roswell high, she'll probably try to save Isabel.
I wonder if Maria is going to Max's house.
Who cares, it's therapy time.
I go to therapy because a lot of the kids in Roswell go to therapy. And since my mom is always jumping on the parenting bandwagon, she signed me up.
Therapy is fun, because I get to lie a lot. See, my therapist, Dr. Amos, he was always looking for something wrong with me.
Do I do drugs?
Nope.
Do I have any memories of child sexual abuse?
Nope.
He got frustrated because he couldn't find a single underlying problem. Not that I cause trouble a lot, but he thinks that at least one traumatic event has happened to every person.
So I started making up stuff.
I told him I saw my best friend get hit by a train.
'Oh Really?' He said.
Yep, and when I was six my mom left me in a pool and I almost drowned.
'Interesting' he said.
And did I mention I was adopted?
My official diagnosis? Pathological Liar.
It's perfect, it's freaking perfect. A week later I leaned forward secretively and said, 'Did you know that there are aliens among us?'
'Are there?' he asked.
Yep, and I know exactly who they are.
I like Dr. Amos. He goes with the flow. He lets me talk about all my 'lies' in detail because he thinks my lies are a clue into my 'unconscious mind'.
'Unconscious mind' is a psychological, hoity-toity term for 'truths your not willing to admit to yourself'.
Denial. Repression. You learn a lot of these words in therapy.
I think Dr. Amos really gets off on this kind of stuff.
So here I am in his big fluffy armchair.
"My friend Tess wants to kill somebody."
"Who does she want to kill?"
"I'm not telling you."
I'm so slick. See, I don't know who Tess wants to kill. I'm making him think I know to get him frustrated. Psychologists have this confidentiality contract, If you don't mention a specific person that is targeted for murder, then they can't report it to the police. It's fucked up, but that’s the way it goes.
I can tell him that Tess has a gun, has a motive, knows exactly who she's going to kill. I can even tell him they day she plans to do it. But if I don't tell him the name of the victim, then he can't do a damn thing about it.
Sucks to be you, Dr. Amos.
Of course, this is all for my sick pleasure, I doubt he would do anything anyway, me being a pathological liar and all.
"Tess is your friend now?" he asks.
"Did I say that?"
"Yes."
"Well, I did help her after she got hit by that car, she was really grateful."
"She got hit by a car?"
"Yea," I nod, "One of the aliens hit her with his car."
He leans back in frustration. He gets frustrated about the aliens because he can't figure out what aliens are a metaphor for in my life: My sense of isolation? My dislike of the state of the world?
Close, Dr. Amos, but no banana.
"She's fine though," I reassure him, "The alien healed her, he's in love with her, you know."
"Is he?"
"Yes, she's all he thinks about, he can't even remember my name because his head is so full of Tess Tess Tess."
Dr. Amos leans forward and taps the tips of his fingers together, "This bothers you?"
"Wouldn't it bother you?"
"Are we talking about me now?"
Beating around the bush is what psychologists do best.
I'm gonna try to change the subject now, "I can read his mind."
"The alien?"
"Yes."
"What does he think about?"
"Tess."
"Do you need to read his mind to know he's thinking about Tess?"
"No, you can tell anyway."
"So why do you read his mind?"
"Because it's interesting"
"You find Tess interesting?"
"I find his version of Tess interesting."
"You find him interesting?"
Dr. Amos is starting to piss me off. "No, he's slow you know, I think he's mentally retarded, and did I mention he's gay?"
Dr. Amos furrows his brow, "I thought he was in love with Tess."
Woops.
I look Dr. Amos straight in the eye. I can't let him get the upper hand. "Tess is really a boy."
It wasn't a good idea to say that because now Dr. Amos is going to either think I'm gay or that I have gender identity disorder.
I know exactly how he thinks. Maybe he should be the one in the hot seat.
It's ok. If things start getting weird I can always discontinue the therapy. I'm 18 now, so I can do that. It's a good thing too because he can't tell my parents anything that I say.
"So Dr. Amos, do you think I should help Tess kill somebody?"
Dr. Amos frowns, he knows I'm joking but he hates joking about death, "No."
I nod, "Your the expert, Doc."
*****
It's Tuesday night. Tess called in sick so I have to work for her.
The regulars are here. And if Max asks me why I'm not Tess, I think I’ll strangle him.
"Hi welcome to the Crashdown Cafe my name is Liz I will be your friendly waitress our soup of the day is vegetable can I get you something to drink or are you ready to order."
Max opens his mouth to speak at his menu. I'm not sure if he's going to order or ask about Tess. How about I just stop this before it starts? "Tess called in sick, if you have a problem with me serving you I can get Courtney to take your order."
The group looks taken aback. I'm feeling a little embarrassed. "I was going to say," Max says looking down, "That we should maybe meet and work on Bio tomorrow."
Oh.
"Sure...where at?"
I wonder what his house looks like. I wonder what his room looks like. Maybe if I see his room he'll seem like a real person.
"Can we just meet here after school?"
He has a weird voice, it's really like, breathy.
"I guess."
"Parker," I turn my head to see Tess walking towards me. I bet Max is having a heart attack. I wonder what she's doing here. She walks up to me and grabs my hand, "We're going to a party this weekend."
She's got a fresh bruise on her cheek. Guess what: it's not from the car accident.
"We are?"
I hate parties.
She squeezes my hand a little, "Yep." She looks down at Max and smiles her little fake smile. Max looks like he's about to get run over by a truck. "You should come too Max," she says, "It'll be fun."
Yea, sure it will Tess.
It's really subtle when Max freaks out. His body gets all rigid. His eyes widen slightly. If you weren't looking at him close enough you wouldn't be able to tell.
I wonder what Tess is up to.
I wonder if Max will show up. I'm sure he will, he'd probably do anything for her.
I wonder....I wonder if Max would kill for her.
*****
Iron 2 Sulfide. Plus Hydrochloric acid. Two.
Two Hydrochloric Acid.
"Are you ok?"
"Hold on, I'm thinking."
Two Two Two. Iron 2 Chloride.
Hydrogen sulf.....
I wonder why Tess came to me.
"More coffee?" Tess asks, smiling sweetly at Max.
I push my mug to the edge of the table and she fills it up before swaggering away.
"That's your third cup." Says Max.
"Fourth."
When I get nervous I drink coffee. When I drink coffee I get nervous.
Fifteen minutes ago I met Max in the Crashdown as planned. He wants me to look over his homework before we get started on our project. It doesn't surprise me that he knows I'm good at Bio.
I have a couple claims to fame: I'm president of the science club, I work with Tess.
You’d think he'd have to look me in the eye at least once, sitting across from me like this.
Nope.
He does this thing where he looks at your forehead, at the tip of your nose. Never the eyes.
It's ok, I don't look at his either.
Too weird.
Ammonium Phosphate plus Barium Hydroxide.
"Liz?"
Six. Six Barium Hydroxide.
Did he just say Liz?
"Huh?"
"Is it too loud in here?"
I think he just said my name.
I shove some more coffee down my throat.
I hate watching Max try to act normal. I hate watching him act like he doesn't care Tess is strutting around in front of us.
I hate watching Tess try to act normal. I hate watching her act like she doesn't care she wants to kill somebody or that she has a bruise on her cheek. I know she cares. I'd care.
She's on the phone now. I think she's yelling at it.
I push Max his homework back, "It looks fine to me."
He's not paying too much attention to me now. He's trying to hear her conversation.
I wonder if he worries about her.
I wonder if he wants to be her knight in shining armor, carry her away to another place, live happily ever after.
He's got these arms, these perfect arms. When he leans against the table, his arms push more out of his shirt.
His hair is always itching his forehead.
Who cares?
This is the thing about coffee. You can never keep your mind on one topic. You notice stupid details that you never noticed before.
He's been walking around without a jacket. He probably doesn't want to admit he left it here because the last time he tried to get it, he hit his love interest with his car.
"You left your jacket here."
"I did?"
When he talks to you, you just know he's thinking about something else.
"Yea."
"Cool, I was looking for it."
Bet you were, Max.
Tess slams down the phone and starts walking around with the pot of coffee like a zombie.
I want to help Tess. I don't want to help her kill somebody, I just want to help her.
She came to me. I have no idea why she came to me. She knows she can't use her influence on me. It must be something else. Maybe she just thinks I can help.
I gesture to her and she walks over and slumps down next to me. Max's eyes narrow when she leans her head my shoulder. I like that Max thinks me and Tess are good friends. He'll probably pay more attention to me.
Not that I want him to pay more attention to me, I just want him to remember my name.
I wonder if me and Tess are good friends.
"You wanna spend the night at my house?" I ask her.
Truth is, I was gonna ask if she wanted to stay with me before Johnny Football Hero said anything. I just didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
"No." she says.
I can tell when no means yes.
"The Breakfast Club is on TV tonight."
I know what she's going to do now. She's going to pretend that she really likes The Breakfast Club, so much that she has no other choice than to spend the night at my house.
If we were alone, she would probably just say yes. But Max is here, so she has to play it cool.
"I love that movie."
"I know."
"I don't know if my parents will let me."
"So don't ask."
She smiles. She likes when I appeal to her rebellious side.
'Cause little Lizzy Parker doesn't usually have a rebellious side. Not one that she knows of, at least. Not one that she knew of until I covered up those bloodstains like a pro.
"I'll come by later," She says as she gets up and walks away.
"You guys are pretty good friends, aren't you?" Max asks.
"Apparently so."
*****
Max and I decided to work some more on our project tomorrow. He says that we should go somewhere else, that we should go to his house. It doesn't surprise me because Tess isn't working tomorrow.
He probably has her schedule written down somewhere.
Why does that make me sick?
It's a rhetorical question.
I can just imagine those two. Living the American Dream. A white picket fence and two kids. Max, with his trophy wife and alien powers that are oh so handy around the house.
I bet their drains would never get clogged.
I bet their grass would never turn yellow.
I wish I could just go to sleep and quit thinking about this.
*****
Sometimes, when things spin really fast, you can't even tell if their moving anymore. You can't tell if it's still spinning or if everything has come to a dead halt.
Kyle brings Tess over late Wednesday night, and I can tell by their faces that something happened. I don't see any new injuries on Tess but Kyle looks devastated.
Tess has got this vacant look in her eye and you can tell she's getting lost in her head.
I invite them in.
"I think it's her dad," Kyle says sadly, "But I don't know, she won't talk to me."
"So what do we do now?" He asks.
Tess breaks out of her trance for a few seconds to say, "Nothing, I've got it all figured out."
I've heard her say that before.
Don't worry little Lizzy Parker. Tess has got it all figured out.
I resist the urge to call Dr. Amos. We need more information, I'll call him tomorrow. Before Kyle leaves he kisses her head softly and whispers "I love you." I think he's about to cry.
Tess's voice becomes shaky when she says it back, you can tell she's struggling for control.
I feel a twinge of sadness that Max wants to break this up.
I give Tess some pajamas and tell her that she is going to stay with me for a while. I don't even bother asking her now. My mother will understand.
There is something different about me and Tess now. She clings to my arm when we watch television. I never thought I had any motherly instincts but their surfacing now. I taped The Breakfast Club so that we can watch it. After a while she actually starts smiling and laughing. "I'm the Molly Ringwald character," she says, "And Kyle is the Jock."
"Which one am I?" I ask.
"Your the crazy one," she smiles and looks up at me like she knows something that I don't. "Aren't you?"
"I don't know."
I don't know, maybe I am the crazy one.
That night I have a dream. Max is in it. I'm on a roller coaster that I can't get off of. It just keeps on going around and around. At the end of the ride is a tunnel with a huge drop. Before I go into the tunnel, Max waves at me from the sidelines.
This is what Dr. Amos would say my dream was about: sex.
This is what Dr. Amos says that all dreams are about: sex.
I think Dr. Amos sleeps with old volumes of Freud in his bed.
The bullet shaped roller coaster, he would say, is the phallic symbol. And the tunnel? Use your imagination and you'll figure it out.
And the drop? Climax.
Dr. Amos would say that I want to have sex with Max.
Think again, Dr. Amos.
*****
I'm in Max's room.
The boy has parents.
He actually has parents.
And he reads books.
And I wonder when he finds enough time to stop thinking about Tess and read a book.
Good books: Vonnegut, Bradbury, Orwell, Ballard, Palahnuik.
Pre-apocalyptic fantasies, I call them. The world ending, one person at a time. One life at a time. Some of these books have hopeful endings. I usually ignore that part.
"What are you doing?" Max asks as he walks into his room. He just came from the bathroom.
I'm invading your privacy, that's what I'm doing.
"You read books." I state like an idiot.
"Don't we all?"
"You'd be surprised."
He shrugs and begins to open his backpack, but hesitates. There is something he wants to say.
"Did you tell Tara Fisher that I was gay?"
Uh oh....this is bad.
Of course, I could always use this opportunity to teach you the fine art of lying. First, you have to pretend that you didn't even hear the question.
I sit down across from him on the floor, "Huh?"
"Tara Fisher....she said you told her I was gay."
I can tell this makes him really uncomfortable. He's got this kind of scowl/frown on his face.
Next, you have to pretend that he's not even speaking English, like you don't even know what he's talking about, "Gay?"
He nods, "Gay."
Next, you take some of the attention off of the lie in question, don't worry, we will get back to it later. I widen my eyes in shock, "Are you?"
He shakes his head wildly, "No."
"Cause it's ok if you are..."
"I'm not" he says sternly.
See, now that you've got him thinking about something else entirely, it's time to deny the lie. "I've never talked to Tara Fisher in my life."
Dr. Amos says that the first step in getting over pathological lying is admitting that you have a problem.
When he told me this, I said, 'I have six toes.'
'We'll have to work on this some more,' he said.
Max shakes his head and opens some of his books, after a while he frowns down at the assignment, "I don't see how were going to get this done by next Wednesday," he says. "We might have to meet a couple more times."
I nod.
"Is Tuesday ok?" He asks.
I can't do this Tuesday, I have therapy. I don't want to tell him that.
"I have a dentist appointment." I say, "How about Monday."
"I can't Monday," he says embarrassingly, "I have therapy."
Well at least he's honest.
And I can't control the laughter in my head, "Where at?" I ask, "At Sunny Glen?" Sunny glen is this huge shopping mall type building that is dedicated solely to mental health.
He nods.
"I go there too." I say.
"You do?"
"Yea."
"Who is your doctor?"
"Dr. Amos."
He smiles, "Me too."
HA!
"No way," I say leaning forward, "What is your diagnosis?"
"Umm," he looks up at the ceiling and lists off his identified problems, "Feelings of rejection and isolation arising from the abandonment of my biological parents."
"Wow, that's a good one."
"What's yours?"
Should I tell him?...oh what the hay.
"Pathological Liar." I say.
I think I just admitted to having a problem, Dr. Amos would be proud.
He narrows his eyes at me, "So you just lie a lot?"
He'll soon learn, you never ask a Pathological Liar if they lie a lot.
"Nope," I say, "Not at all."
*****
Max...is like an onion.
Sort of.
Well, without the smell and the crying issue.
I'm talking about layers.
He's got these layers, that you have to peel through.
I think I just got through the first one. I don't know why, I wasn't even trying to.
We're talking now, and laughing. We're talking about how Dr. Amos is always tapping his pen on something: on the desk, in his hand, and our favorite, on his head.
When Max laughs, it's not really like an outward laugh. He smiles and looks down and pushes some air out through his nose.
It's kind of....
Never mind.
Anyway, I wonder what is at the bottom of all those layers. A secret perhaps? An alien secret? Thoughts about Tess?
"What's the molor mass of Carbon." He asks.
"12.011"
"Did you memorize the whole periodic table?"
"Pretty much."
"Wow," he raises his eyebrows, "That must be handy."
"Yea."
Not as handy as alien powers, Max.
This is ultra weird, talking to him like this. I mean, when you talk to someone, you have to be thinking about them, right? And I can't believe that thoughts about me are actually occupying is immediate conscious.
"So," he says, "I heard Tess is staying at your house."
Mmmmhmmm, spoke too soon.
"Wow," I say, "Look at the time."
*****
Are you going to Tess's party tomorrow night?
Are you going to Tess's party tomorrow night?
Hey, Liz, are you going to Tess's party tomorrow night?
Ever have one of those days that you walk through the school doors and you just know: Today is really gonna suck.
I couldn't possibly have done anything more to hide the fact that Tess is staying at my house.
She was acting different this morning. She looked happy, she was acting like she used to but with one major difference: she was being really nice. And for once in my life, I can't tell if it was her act or if it was real.
"Are you going to Tess's party tomorrow night?" Maria asks me.
Oh no, they got to her too.
"I think so, are you?"
"Yea."
"We should go together."
Maria begins to stutter over her words, "Yea..I mean..I told Isabel that I would go with her..but like...I can cancel...or like...you could go with us."
Well hello there, wounded ego.
Of course, I can't be mad. I'm glad she's making new friends. She's been really quiet lately, I think Roswell is getting to her too.
"Oh, you know what...." I say in mock realization, "I just remembered...I can get a ride with Tess."
"Are you sure?"
"Yea."
"Ok," she hugs me, "I gotta get to class."
"Are you going to Tess's party?"
I turn around towards the voice as Maria walks off, "Do I know you?"
"Yea....I'm Tara Fisher....we have elective together...I was in the bathroom?..the other day."
Well, Tara Fisher, good thing I don't have alien powers or I would blast you into another solar system.
I walk away because I don't feel like responding. Here's the deal: The party, it's not even at Tess's house. It's not even really her party. But if she goes then there is some secret document that says she automatically has ruling over the guest list. She's invited me and Max and Maria and Isabel, and probably Alex and Michael. So the school is having an aneurysm because Tess has got this new group of friends.
But the new 'happening' person to be around just happens to be me.
Tess is staying at Liz's house. Praise Liz.
I feel someone grab my arm and pull me aside, "Are you going to Tess's party?"
It's Johnny Foo....I mean Kyle. He looks distressed. "Yea, are you?"
He frowns, "I can't, I'm going with my dad to some party at the police station."
"Oh."
He frowns even more, if that's possible, "She planned it this way, she doesn't want me to go."
"What? Kyle that's insane."
He sighs and rubs his eye, he looks really tired, "Just umm...make sure she doesn't....drink too much...or anything.....ok?"
I'm actually really truly feeling sympathetic feelings for Kyle. I regret ever calling him Johnny Football Hero.
"Yea...ok."
"Oh, and Liz? Beware the wrath of Courtney." He gestures behind him before walking away.
Oh great. Courtney is probably having a hissy fit because I'm Tess's new best friend. "How's it goin' Parker." She says forcefully as she approaches.
"Hello Courtney," I say monotonously.
"Hear your goin' to Tess's party."
"Yea."
"Just so you know, Tess is going with me," she says matter-of-factly.
"Good for you."
She gives me her evil look as she walks away. She's probably imagining the many ways in which she could murder me.
I propose to you a question: If you were having troubles at home, would you go to Courtney?
Didn't think so.
"Hey Liz....are you uhh...going to Tess's party?"
GRRRRRRR.
I don't even bother to look at who as talking to me. Instead, I make an announcement to the hall. "I am Liz Parker, and Yes, for the love of god, I will be attending Tess's party....any questions?"
Some of the students in the hall look at me like I grew new limbs, some of them nod in satisfaction. "Great," I say as I turn towards the original voice.
Oh god, I am such an idiot. "Oh...hey Max."
"Are you all right?"
"Oh. Umm," I force a smile on my face, "Yea..just umm...you gotta love those high school politics..."
"Yea," he says, "I know what you mean."
Oh, is that so Max? You follow Tess around like a puppy just like everyone else.
"So..are you going?" I ask.
"Yea....I was wondering if you had directions, cause umm...I guess Michael and Isabel are going with other people so...."
Oh, cut the crap, Max. "Do you need a ride?"
"Aren't you going with Tess?"
"No, Tess is probably going with Kyle," I say, lying like a dog.
The twinge of pain that passes through his eyes makes me want to hurl, but yet, gives me an unusual sense of satisfaction.
Am I evil or what?
Another rhetorical question.
"Oh," he says, "Ok…I guess I'll umm...see you tomorrow."
Yea, don't act too excited there, Max.
I wonder if Max and me are going to become friends. I wonder if I'm going to become his path to Tess.
And I have to ask myself, Do I really want that?
No.
Hell no.
Hey, if I had my way, I wouldn't even be his damn lab partner.
You’re not exactly a ball of sunshine to be around either, Max Evans.
But I guess...
I guess being his friend wouldn't be that bad. I mean, he is oddly intriguing in that disgusting sort of way.
And I mean, we sort of have some things in common.
And it's not like I actually have any control over my life anyway.
I wonder what he would do if he knew that I knew he was an alien. I wonder if he would be grateful that I didn't tell anybody.
God, I can't wait till Tuesday.
I need Dr. Amos, like now.
*****
Have you ever said your name over and over and listened to how ridiculous it sounds.
Liz Liz Liz Liz Liz
An arbitrary combination of letters to define who you are.
Liz Liz Liz Liz Liz LIZZZZZZZZ
My mom pokes her head into my room, "Honey, aren't you going to be late for the social?"
Hahaha, the social.
She frowns at me, "Is that what your wearing?"
I look down at my chosen clothing, I'm wearing what I usually wear, jeans and a sweater.
"Mom, I'm not going to a tea party."
"You just haven’t been out in a while, I thought you might want to dress up."
Sometimes I wonder if my mother grew up in 20th century America.
"I'm going to a high school party mom, you know, the kind with drugs and alcohol and lots of vomit?"
She points her finger at me, "If it's that kind of party I want you to come right home."
"Of course."
"What time are you picking up the Evans boy?"
Oh mother mother mother. I stand up, "Right now."
"Ok!" My mother waves at me as I leave, "Have fun! Stay out of trouble! Don't get home too late!"
Don't get me wrong, I love my mom. But she thinks that the problems of the world can be solved with a nice dress and a little makeup. Yea, like Max Evans would notice if I dressed up.
Who cares, I don't want to be noticed.
*****
"Do you want a cookie?"
Max's mom is always offering me food.
I smile, "No thanks."
"We've got some lasagna in the fridge."
So is his dad.
"It's ok, I'm fine."
"We've got water, and orange juice," says his mother.
The way their treating me, you can tell Max doesn't get visitors too often.
"I'm really ok...but thank you."
"How about some milk? You like milk, don't you?" asks his dad.
"Umm.." I shoot Max a helpless look as he walks into the room.
Max shakes his head and smiles at his parents, "You guys, Liz has a mother and father of her own, and despite what you might think, they do feed her."
His mom brushes off his comment and kisses her son on the cheek, "You guys have fun, no drinking."
"And no drugs." Says his dad.
"And no sex." Says his mom.
Max's eyes widen, "We're leaving now."
"No glove, no love, son." Adds his dad.
"Yea," Max says as we retreat out the door, "That's great dad, I'll remember that."
He chuckles to himself as we walk to my car, "They think we're dating."
Apparently they think we're doing more than dating.
I smile weakly, "That's funny."
"Yea."
Yay. It's party time.
It's a Roswell party, so one of three things are guaranteed to happen:
1) A fight will break out, the party will be broken up by the cops.
2) Someone will overdose, the party will be broken up by the cops.
3) And this is the most common one, someone will cheat on his or her significant other, an anonymous tip from a neighbor will cause the party to be broken up by the cops.
Understood?
I'm gonna place my money on #3.
We can hear the music pounding as we drive onto the street. Their already being too loud so this party might not last as long as anyone expects.
It's only 9 and the lawn is already cluttered with beer cans. They probably had a warning from the cops and made everyone get inside the house.
How do I know so much about Roswell parties? I think it's just the kind of instinctive information your born with.
Either that or I've just lived here for way too long.
As soon as we walk through the house, some girl is hugging me. "LIZZZ!"
I have no idea who she is.
She shoves a bottle of beer in my hands, I see Maria and Isabel through the crowd. "I think Tesssssis lookin for you guys." The girl manages to push out her words in a slur.
Max looks really nervous. "She is?"
The girl leads us to the kitchen where Tess is pouring beer into a funnel that is directly attached to Tommy's mouth. When she sees us, she hands the funnel to someone else and clutches to Max's arm.
And I wonder. What is this?
What, exactly, is going on?
"You guys came!" she says.
Max swallows.
I hand him the beer, "Knock yourself out, I'll be somewhere else."
I make my way to the living room where Maria and Isabel are sitting on the couch.
Isabel is wearing one of Maria's shirts.
"Hey guys." I say, "Is Alex here?"
Maria smiles at me, "He's in back with Michael."
"Great...I'll umm...be back in a second."
In back, Alex and Michael are playing with someone’s dog.
Alex must be slightly drunk because he keeps making the little dog roll over and shake. He is very amused by it. "LIZ," he says enthusiastically when he sees me, "Doesn't this party blow?"
You gotta love Alex.
He puts his arm around my shoulders, "Liz, this here is Michael, and this," he points to the dog, "This is Bob Johnson."
"The dog's name is Bob Johnson?"
Alex nods.
Max comes out in back, still holding a full bottle of beer. Michael narrows his eyes when he sees it. "You drinkin'?"
"Maybe," says Max.
"HELLOOO," We turn our attention towards Tess, who's head appears in the window, "Come in here, were playing a game."
"What game?" Alex asks.
"Spin the bottle." she says.
Shoot me. Now.
"Come on Max," Tess says, flirting like there's no tomorrow, "Don't you wanna play?"
"Ummm."
"Pleeease." she says.
Max takes a nervous sip of his beer and nods, "O-Ok."
She turns her charm onto Alex and Michael, "Maria and Isabel are playing."
No way.
Alex's eyes light up, he grabs my arm, "Come on Liz."
"Alex," I pull him around to face me, "Listen to yourself, this is crazy talk, we don't do this."
He frowns, "Liz, Isabel is playing, come on, play with us."
I find it hard to hide my utter disbelief, "Alex, what the hell are you gonna do if the bottle lands on me??? Hello? Can you say weird?"
Alex's face stiffens, "Your right, maybe you shouldn't play."
"What if it lands on Maria!?"
He's not listening to me anymore, he's pulling me into the living room.
I sit on the couch and watch Tess direct the group into a circle.
So here I am.
My peers sitting in a circle on the floor in front of me.
I wonder if I'm losing my only friends.
Alex goes first, it lands on some girl I don't know.
I can feel myself fading into the background.
Michael goes next, he's concentrating on the bottle way too hard. Alien powers. It lands on Maria, she looks happy.
I might as well not even be here.
Courtney goes next. It lands on Max. Courtney attacks him with her mouth. It looks really gross. Max looks uncomfortable.
I should just go.
It's Max's turn. This should be good.
Oh look at that, it landed on Tess.
The look on their faces? Priceless, fucking priceless.
I don't want to see this.
I'm leaving.
This isn't about me.
As I walk through the room I hear whooping and cooing noises behind me. Must have been a damn good kiss.
Good for them, I say.
Way to fuck up Kyle's life while their at it.
One week ago, Tess wouldn't give Max a second thought. Now what in the world would make her change her mind so quickly? Perhaps she wants something from him?
Lets dwell on that for a while.
Personally, I think she's lost it. She's gone, far gone.
I guess I would be too.
I go into one of the back rooms. The rest of the house is pretty much empty because the crowd has congregated in the living room.
I enter a back room with a couch and some workout equipment. The white light bulb has been replaced with a blue one, it's very calm. Eddie Williams is sitting on the couch staring into outer space.
Eddie Williams is a major player in the meth scene. But right now, I think he's on downers.
I've never talked to Eddie in my life.
I sit down on the couch and Eddie lazily glances over at my feet, then points to a bug on the wall. "You see that bug?" He asks.
"Yea."
"Is it looking at me?"
I lean forward and pretend to examine the bug, "Yea, it is."
He is basically handing me the chance to screw with his mind on a platter. How can I resist.
He nods, "That's what I thought."
"I think it's trying to tell you something." I say.
"I wonder where everybody is." He says.
"They forgot about us."
He nods again.
I lean my head back on the couch, the spinning is starting to hurt.
So me and Eddie, we sit there. What fun. About an hour goes by before he speaks again.
"You are so beautiful." he says.
"That's funny," I say, "You haven’t even looked at me."
He shakes his head, "I can tell."
"Neat."
"Wanna come over to my house?"
"Not really."
"Ok."
Nice try, Eddie.
"Liz?" I hear Max's voice outside the door.
I say it again: Yay me.
"In here."
"Liz," he says as he walks through the door and sits down on the floor in front of me, "I have to tell you something."
His eyes are cloudy, "Are you drunk?"
He nods solemnly, like a little boy, "Yes."
"Great."
He starts to look at his hand like it's the coolest thing he's ever seen. He waves it in front of his eyes. Then he places his palm over my face. "You have a really small head." He says.
Umm...
"See Max, I have this personal bubble, and you are now invading it."
He chuckles and retreats his hand, "Your funny, I have a secret to tell you."
"What," I say unenthusiastically.
He leans forward secretively, "I'm an alien."
"Dude, So am I," Says Eddie.
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask Max.
"Because," he says, "Your more insane than I am."
"I wouldn't bet the ranch on that."
"Shhh." He says, putting a finger to his lips, "Don't tell anybody."
"Yea ok."
He looks around the room in a daze, "There was something else I wanted to tell you....I don't need a ride home."
"Why not?"
He smiles, "I'm going with Tess."
.....
"Liz?"
.....
"Lizzz?"
"Huh?"
"Don't tell Kyle ok?"
"What?"
"Ok, I'll see you later."
He leaves. And for possibly the first time in my life, I am left without a witty comment to end the night.
*****
You could say I'm having a bad day.
The question of the day is: What is wrong with me?
Consider last night. Tess came home at 5 in the morning and I pretended to be asleep. Guess I need to tune up my acting skills cause she knew. I didn't care, I pretended anyway. She kneeled by my bed the way that kids lean against their beds when they pray. She was crying when she said "I know your mad, Kyle just can't help me." And through the slits of my eyes I could see the remains of that little bruise on her cheek.
And I wished I was the one that put it there.
With her kneeling there like that, I could have socked her a good one. I could have screamed at her. Her boyfriend is the sheriff’s son for gods sake. Alls it would take is a few words out of that pretty little mouth of hers and this would be over. They would have her out of that house in no time, her dad or whoever would be thrown in jail.
Nobody hurts the princess.
Not in this town.
A lot of people could tell the police though. Me, Kyle, Probably Max knows now. I don't know their reasons for not telling but I sure as hell know mine.
This isn't about me. I'm in the background, observing. I want to see what happens. I want to see if she asks. I want to see if Max gets the girl. I want to see them running from the law with nothing but there very own true love in tact.
I want to see Roswell have a wake up call.
As long as it's not about the god damn aliens.
Consider my conversation with Maria early this morning. She called me and wanted to know if I had fun at the party. I said, "No, I had a horrible time, but then again you wouldn't have noticed that 'cause you were too busy holding Isabel's hand all night."
And she was quiet, and she wanted to know what the hell is wrong with me, and she wanted to know what’s going on and who I am and what happened that made me so bitter.
And I was too ornery to tell her how sorry I was.
And I was. Sorry, that is. Very much so.
But the question still remains, what the hell is wrong with me.
Consider the morning I spent with Kyle trying to convince him that nothing was fundamentally wrong with him. I went over to his house because, believe it or not, I am capable of empathy. If anyone is innocent in this fucked up little world we've made ourselves then it's him. Plus I know that the verbal caravan containing the details about last night had probably reached him. And he cried. And what did he do wrong? He wondered. And what could he have done differently? When his dad asked were Barney was I thought he was talking about a dog.
He wasn't.
"You know I don't touch your guns, Dad." Kyle said.
Kyle and me are friends now. You make friends quickly in situations like this. I tried to cheer him up with thoughts of bitter revenge. When Max and Tess finally settle down together we can burn their perfect little house down, I told him. We played violent video games together and talked about how we would move to Alaska and pretend to be brother and sister. I told him he should go with me and Maria and Alex when we leave. That is, if Maria and Alex still wanna go with me.
I told Kyle that I used to call him Johnny Football Hero. Kyle told me that he always used to wonder what the hell was wrong with me.
At this point, I can't be surprised.
Consider my drive to Max's house to work on our project. The reason I never tell you what Roswell looks like is you already know. Meet suburbia. Suburban Utopia. Middle class paradise. In Max's neighborhood, all the houses look the same. For a little variety, the construction company added a quirk to each house so that people wouldn't notice that all the houses happen to be exactly the same. One has a porch, one has shudders, one is painted blue, one is painted red, Max's has a second story.
It didn't work. They still all look the same.
The streets have names like "Milky Way," and "Nebula Court." The city planners, it seems, are not without a sense of twisted irony. This place, it's just perfect for raising a little nuclear family like Max's.
The teenagers sit on the lawn or wash their cars, a vacant look in their eye that reeks of self-absorption.
So here I am, sitting next to the most self-absorbed one of all, Max Evans.
So, yea. I'm having a bad day, you could say.
His layers were all the way around him again when he invited me in. Not a damn word about last night. He did look tired.
So I wondered what he was doing all night.
And as we sat on his bed and I proceeded to work on the project, he proceeded to fall asleep.
And my anger is growing faster than gossip travels through Roswell on a Sunday night.
I bet they had sex on this bed. Max in all his masculine glory and Tess with her ruby red lips and snow white skin. I bet all his fucking dreams came true.
And now, with him sleeping so peacefully, I want to scream. I want to hurt him. I want to jump on top of him and pound on his chest and scream in his ear.
I want to scare the crap out of him.
I want to tell him that I hope he's happy. I hope he knows he wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me. Perhaps a little gratitude is in order if he still remembers my name.
I want to tell him that I never wanted to know all his secrets. I never asked for this. I want to tell him that now I do know all his secrets he's all I think about. That I can't get him out of my head and he makes it spin and spin and spin and hurt like theirs no tomorrow. I want to tell him how much time I've wasted on him, wondering how to save him from Roswell.
And I want to tell him to open his eyes and take a good look around because Tess is a nutcase and she's never gonna love him. That eventually she'll get so unhappy without Kyle that he'll regret ever laying a finger on her. How happy will he be with his little wifey on suicide watch wishing she just would've told the guy she really loved what was going on.
And I would. I would jump on top of him and scream in his ear. And now that I know your secrets, Max Evans. I want to peel away every layer and see what you have swimming around in that perfect little head of yours. I want to see it all, I need to see it all. And I want to hurt you and scare you into telling me. And I want to violate your every fantasy and show you what the real world looks like. And I want you to tell me why you make me sick, and why I care so much, and why I want to be Tess so that I could know what your arms feel like.
And why I want to know what your skin tastes like.
So you tell me what my problem is, Max Evans.
What is it about me that makes me so easy to forget, your the expert on that.
What, exactly, is wrong with me.
So me, being the action-girl that I am, I sit here next to him on his bed, seething with anger, doing absolutely nothing while he sleeps like a goddamn baby.
I'm such a wuss. My plans become more and more passive by the minute. First it's screaming in his ear, then it's throwing something at him and pretending it was an accident, then it's shifting on the bed enough to wake him up from his peaceful slumber. So this is what I do:
I poke him.
On the arm.
He doesn't move.
He's a deep sleeper.
So I lean over. I lean over so that my nose is hovering millimeters away from his arm. And I breath.
He smells like his jacket, but better, he smells good. I smile because I know that if he was awake he would now how much I was violating him. He would be scared. Then the screaming would begin.
"What are you doing?"
umm....
Since I'm pretty much frozen in fear I keep still. My eyes can still move. I look up at him to see him looking down at me. That's a good question Max Evans.
I'm violating you, that's what I'm doing.
He doesn't look scared, he doesn't look mad.
I can do this. I practically lie for a living so I can do this now.
"Something smelled weird," I say.
He smiles a little, "Is it me."
"Yes." I say, forcing my body to an upright position.
He rubs some sleep from his eye, "Well what do I smell like?"
"A boy."
"What does a boy smell like?"
And I say, "Bad."
He tilts his head to the side, his hair brushes against his forehead, "I just took a shower."
"Well maybe you should switch soap."
And that's when it hits me: I have accomplished absolutely nothing. I still don't know what’s wrong with me. I still don't know what’s wrong with him. And I am still so incredibly mad. I want to destroy something, to break something. I want to cause trouble.
He picks up one of the papers I was working on, "This is so boring."
Yes it is, Max Evans. Lets see what you've got. I look him straight in the eye even though it's a given that he doesn't look at me back, "Let's go break into Dr. Amos's office."
It's perfect. It's killing two birds with one stone. I get to cause trouble while simultaneously finding out exactly what the expert says is wrong with me, wrong with Max.
I wonder if he has the guts.
I know he's thinking about it, after a minute he unfurrows his brow and smiles conspiratorially and says, "Ok."
This, my friends, should be a lot of fun.
*****
I am plastered to a brick wall, in a shadow.
And I swear to god I hear the theme song of Mission Impossible playing.
'Cause we weren't expecting a security guard.
I'm wearing one of Max's black beanies. I figured that if I was going to get all spyish on Dr.Amos's ass then I would go all the way, black beanie and all.
Max keeps laughing at me because it's way too big and is constantly falling over my eyes.
I feel like I should be carrying a gun against my face and wearing black leather pants, barking out orders as to how we are going to proceed.
I like this. This feels good. I should break the law more often. It's like lying, but on a grander scale.
"SHHHHH." I tell Max as the side of the cap slips over my left eye.
He stifles his laughter, "Yes cap'n. You act like you've done this before."
Max is so ruining my spy mood.
"Shut up, I think he's coming."
'He' happens to be the security guard that is walking around the building with a flashlight. We made it around to the back, and if he comes back here, we're screwed.
We make ourselves as flat as we can against the wall.
"You have done this before, haven’t you."
Max is really getting a kick out of this.
"No, but I've thought about it a lot, keep moving."
We slide along the wall towards the window.
"It's that one," I say.
"You sure?"
"Positive."
I basically have the blueprints for this place memorized. Thank god Dr. Amos is on the first story. The Sunny Glen Center for Mental Health has three stories. The first floor is dedicated to your average, everyday whako. People like me and Max. The second floor is for the people on meds that have to stay a little longer. There is a pharmacy on the second floor, probably a couple white padded rooms. If Tess were to go to Sunny Glen, she would probably head straight for the second floor.
Just kidding, I love Tess. No, really.
The third floor is administration. You only go to the third floor to see the head honcho before treatment begins, to discuss your goals and payment.
The first goal they made for me was to 'establish a framework for treatment through open discourse of problems or areas of concern.' (Huh?)
Their second goal? Lets just get that damn girl to stop lying.
Not likely, oh great ones.
While I have been lost in the inner workings of Sunny Glen, Max has taken it upon himself to open the window with his alien powers.
He thinks that I don't know this.
He doesn't know I have the uncanny ability to think and observe from the corner of my eye at the same time.
"That was easy," I say.
"It was unlocked."
Ha ha ha.
Who's the liar now, Max?
He uses his big, manly arms to push me through the window, then himself.
Oh yes, we are so sneaky.
We are in.
When Max closes the window, it makes a really loud slamming noise.
"Shit." He says.
A beam of light drifts across the window.
"Hide." He says.
I push Dr. Amos's chair out of the way and scramble under the desk, Max follows. It's too crowded so were both rolled into balls, clutching our knees against our chests.
Max's shoe is touching mine.
"Is he coming?" I ask.
"I think so."
We hold our breaths as we see the beam of light shooting through the window to the office wall, around the overstuffed maroon chairs, to the desk.
I think Dr. Amos should invest in some mini blinds.
Max shoulder is still hanging in view and he crams himself under the desk as much as he can.
"This is insane." He whispers.
"No," I say, " We're insane."
When the light disappears, I peek my head out from under the desk, "I think he's gone."
"We need to be careful." Max says this to me like I don't know it.
I twist my upper body and reach around to open the drawer.
I know which drawer my file is in because I'm always watching when Dr. Amos puts it away.
Parker, Elizabeth Anne.
That would be me.
Evans, Maxwell Phillip.
Ha, it says Maxwell, that's funny.
"Here you go, Maxwell" I say as I hand him his file.
He glances at my file and smiles, "Thank you very much, Elizabeth"
I swear, when I get a little older, I'm changing my name to Liz, officially.
Well, lets see what Dr. Amos thinks my problem is.
We quiet down as we begin to sift through our files.
Instead of Liz, it says "patient". Instead of Tess, it says "T."
When it talks about aliens, it says "aliens." But when it talks about 'the' alien (guess who), it says "A."
Psychologists take fucked up notes like this just in case a couple of nutjob teenagers decide to break into their offices on a Sunday night to read each other's files.
'Confidentiality,' Dr. Amos says, 'is of the utmost importance.'
Most of my file is really boring. He goes into the possible implications of my lies. It's mostly wrong. I try to find the more interesting parts.
"Denial" this, blah blah blah. "Repression" that, blah blah.
Come on Dr. Amos, give me something I can work with.
"Repression of romantic feelings towards A."
Huh?
What the hell is this?
I read a little further down, "Patient expressed extreme hate towards A. in today’s session. Yet the discourse lately has been about nothing but A. I sense that patient may be harboring extreme and conflicting romantic feelings towards A. Patient identifies A. with aliens, which may mean that patient senses and identifies with the possible feelings of isolation that she perceives in A."
Umm...
"Patient may be in denial of feelings of jealousy towards T., who apparently is the object of A.'s affection. Patient talks about T. in unfavorable light and lessens the significance of T.'s problems."
That's bullshit, I do not.
This is all stupid and boring and wrong.
Max groans down at his file, "How's yours?" he asks.
"Pretty uninsightful, Yours?"
"Same."
I want to read his file. I want to read his file badly. I need to read his file. I sift through mine once more, I really don't think that he would draw much from it if he read it, it's too cryptic. Except for the last page, where Dr. Amos describes the events of the car accident. That would totally give me away.
I have to read his file though.
"Maybe we should trade," Max says.
I nod and hand him my file, "Just don't read the last page."
"Why not?"
"Just don't, ok?"
He nods as I grab for his file, "Wait a second," he says, pulling his file away, "I'm not sure about this."
"Come on."
"Umm...there's a lot about...."
"About Tess?" His eyes widen to saucers, "Yea, no shit, sherlock, it's no big secret."
He frowns nervously, "It isn't?"
"Where's Tess," I say, "This is Tess's section, your not Tess, is any of this ringing a bell, Max?"
And then he says, and this is classic: "Oh."
Yea, OH is right, Maxwell Phillip Evans.
He reluctantly gives me his file.
Max's file is full of interesting information.
It reads like the DSMV-IV so let me translate for you:
Max has an unhealthy preoccupation with Tess. Like we didn't know this.
I wonder why Max has just an 'unhealthy preoccupation' and I have 'repressed romantic feelings',if anything, it's the other way around.
Anyway, moving on...
Max has a big ol' secret (mmmhmmm). This cause a flurry of bad things, isolation, remorse, low self-esteem yada yada yada. Max expressed the realization that he becomes attached to and extremely desires objects that he can't have. This was a large breakthrough because Max realized this on his own accord (go Max). This may explain his preoccupation with Tess (what?). Max is a freaking lunatic (it doesn't really say that, I’m just screwing with ya).
This is very, very interesting, read: Max wants Tess cause he knows he can't have her. Whatever will he do now?
I turn the page.
More translation: When asked what he would do if he actually obtained object of desire, Max became irritable and reported that this would never happen. If that happened, he said "Hell would freeze over." I (Dr. Amos) think that perhaps Max does not want to obtain object of desire, that he places more emphasis on the fight than on the cause. Still, I do not know this for sure, perhaps time will tell. When asked if any other girls showed an interest in him, he replied "what other girls?" This leads me to believe that his unhealthy preoccupation has grown, and may be distorting his view of reality (gee, you think?)
This is good stuff, I read down a little further, passing up some stuff about family conflict.
Max reports, at this point, that his greatest fear would be telling his secret to Tess. We still have not made any leeway into what this secret may be. I assume that it is large. So large that it causes feelings of self-hatred that may cause Max to desire impossible things, things that he may never have because he does not feel worthy enough to have them. This desire may be a form of self-punishment. I propose that this secret may be some sort of crime that he has committed (wrong), or it may possibly arise from events beyond his control (bingo).
Wow, Max is crazier than I thought. He's nuttier than a bag of...well...nuts.
"Jesus Liz, your crazier than I thought."
hehe, "For example?"
"For example," he raises his eyebrows, "You told Dr. Amos that your parents are Russian spies, and that you have six toes?"
I smirk, "That one's true."
He smirks back, "I'd like to see that."
"Maybe later. And what about you?" I continue, "I'm not the one with the Tabasco sauce fetish."
"It's good stuff," he says, returning his eyes to my file.
Read away, Max Evans, your not going to find any of me in there. I wonder why he's so interested in the first place.
"You talk a lot about aliens," he says nervously.
"Yea I do," I say, "I was abducted, you know."
"Right." he says. I think he's getting used to my random lies. He swallows, "It says you know who the aliens are."
"Everyone has their suspicions."
"And who does everyone suspect?"
"You."
Oh beautiful satisfaction. If you could just see the look on his face. "Don't worry," I say as I lean forward secretively, "I know who the alien's really are."
And he is so completely confused. "Who."
"Me."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
As he shifts uncomfortably, any inkling of a bad mood that I have flies out the window. "I really wish you wouldn't say anything though, it's really hard, being this way, hiding from everything, wishing for things I don't need."
"Is it," he whispers.
I am really getting to him. Peeling back layers and layers in a matter of seconds.
"Yea, maybe you can relate," I say, "I don't really think it matters who the aliens are anyway."
Am I trying to comfort him now? Why am I trying to comfort him?
"Why not."
"Huh?"
"Why don't you think it matters."
"Oh...because...I'm just as normal as you, your just as normal as me." I say, without knowing why.
His eyes dance back to my file, in what seems like a hurried attempt to change the subject and pretend he doesn't care. He smiles, "Repressed romantic feelings?"
"Don't go there." I say.
"Jealousy?....of Tess?"
"No."
"Liz, do you like Kyle?"
"NO, God no."
"MmmmHmmm," he says.
Then he smirks, and I would like to smack that smirk right off his face. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Huh?"
"You’d just love it if I took Kyle of your hands for you, so you could have Tess all to yourself."
His smirk disappears. "What?" "Stop playing stupid."
"That's not what I meant by it, Liz." You know when your heart starts beating so fast that you can like, see the blood running through your veins.
"Well for your information, I do not have repressed romantic feelings for Kyle, in fact, I just spent the entire afternoon watching his life go down the tubes cause you were off boinking his girlfriend all night."
"We didn't do anything....we just..."
"I don't care what you did."
"Then why are you getting so mad?"
Cause I obviously care. Time to get down to the nitty gritty, I say.
"Do you really think Tess is the kind of person you can tell all your secrets to, Max?"
He's getting mad now too, "Of course not."
"Then why..."
"That's the point, Liz. With her, I can pretend like I don't have secrets, she has secrets too, we don't have to talk about things like that."
I smile incredulously, he’s completely missing the point. "Why the hell do you think she's paying so much attention to you now? Mark my words Max, she's gonna start telling you her secrets and your probably not going to like them."
This is where the denial should come in, "I don't know what your talking about," he says.
See, told you.
"I'm leaving now," he says.
"Go for it." "Aren't you coming?"
"No." When I get really angry, I shut down, lies come pouring forth.
"I'm sleeping here," I say, "I live here, you know."
"Liz."
"Surprise, Dr. Amos is really my Dad, it's a small world after all."
"Liz, come on."
"He's an alien too, you know, an alien Daddy, you know when aliens mate they bite off each others heads like praying mantis'"
He doesn't respond.
"That's why my mom's dead. Nancy Parker is just a figment of your imagination."
He looks down at his lap and he gets this weird look in his eyes, then he looks up at my forehead. "You saw, didn't you."
"Saw?"
"You saw what happened to Tess, it was right in front of your house....I should have known, you made up that story about the stock room."
"I saw nothing of the sort, Max Evens, now go before I blast you with my alien power."
"God, why didn't you tell anybody?"
Spin spin spinny spin spin. Get me out of here.
"I have a headache."
"Ok," he grabs my hand, "lets get out of here, ok?"
Let go of my hand.
"Ok." I say.
Everything is fuzzy now as he pushes me out the window. Everything hurts.
I keep thinking about repressed romantic feelings, about unhealthy preoccupations.
I know it's unhealthy to lie to yourself like this.
But really now, where would telling the truth get me. Nowhere I tell you. He's still got his unhealthy preoccupations. Telling the truth has never gotten me anywhere.
I can't tell the truth, not just yet.
*****
Max, as it seems, is without words.
And his driving is shotty, if you ask me.
"Ummm..." He says.
"W-Wha..ummm." He says.
"Yes?"
"Did you...are you..." He says.
"I didn't tell anyone, I'm not going to tell anyone."
He lets out his breath, "This is so...weird."
I chew on my fingernail and stare out the window, my headache has been replaced with that sinking stomach feeling of nervousness.
"Are you ok?" He asks.
I'm confused.
I'm nervous.
"I'm fine."
"God," he says, smiling at the steering wheel, "You don't know how long I've wanted to tell somebody."
Bet you didn't want it to be me.
But maybe he did. I mean, he told me, last night. Why did he tell me?
"Why didn't you tell anybody?" He asks.
"Nobody needs to know."
Max is practically jumping out of his seat. I bet he's just dying to tell me the details of his remorseful little life.
And you know what? I'm just dying to hear them.
"So." I say, "You do any tricks?"
Probably not the best thing to say, 'cause by the time we get to his house my sweater no longer matches and the beanie on my head is now too small. My house key has been turned into a miniature replica of the statue of liberty, I've been surrounded by some sort of force field.
And I'm Max Evans' new best friend.
And I almost forget that I'm supposed to be hating him.
He locks his door and runs around his room showing me meaningless alien artifacts.
I call them meaningless because when I ask "What does this one do?" He just smiles and says "I don't know!"
He pulls a poster out of his closet and shows me the glowing orb that he's supposed to live on.
He doesn't know who he is, he says. He doesn't know why he's here or what he's supposed to be doing. He tells me that he's starting not to care.
He tells me that he just wants to be human.
And that is definitely sympathy that I'm feeling.
"I can't believe you know," He says, "I can't believe your being so cool about this."
That's me, cool as a cucumber.
"You told me last night, when you were drunk."
"Huh?"
"You told me you were an alien, when I was hanging out with Eddie, I already knew, but you told me."
He smiles, "Yea ok."
He thinks I'm lying. That's the thing about being a liar, when you tell the truth, nobody believes you. Kind of like crying wolf. "You did, you said my head was really small and that you were an alien and that you were leaving with Tess."
"I did?"
"Yea."
"Weird," He says, "Maybe I just thought....that you were like...the kind of person I could tell."
"Kind of person?"
"Yea," he says, "It doesn't seem like a whole lot of things scare you."
That’s me, fearless.
"Yea," I say.
"I said that your head was really small?"
"MmmmHmmmm."
He furrows his brow "Okay..."
And for the first time in about an hour, Max shuts his trap.
He walks to his bookshelf, lost in thought, and skims through his books.
"Are you still mad at me," he asks, "For liking Tess."
How off topic was that?
He pulls out a book.
"No, I just think your gonna get hurt."
He nods, "Yea I probably am...but I have to try, don't I?"
"Guess so," I say.
What a load of crap.
"She's just got these eyes, you know?"
Yea, she does have nice eyes.
Mine couldn't get any more boring.
"Yea, they’re great."
Is this what being Max's friend means? Hearing him worship Tess?
"Ever been to nowhere?" He asks.
Is this one of those cryptic questions?
I say, "Ummm."
"Nowhere, New Mexico, there's a book signing there on Tuesday, we should go."
"Why don't you ask Tess."
"I don't wanna go with Tess," he says, "She wouldn't like it."
And I say, "Only if you change my house key back to normal."
Somebody tell me why I keep putting myself in these positions.
Ok, yea, we all know it's obvious that I have some twisted preoccupation with him.
So maybe I.....
Maybe I......
like him.
A LITTLE.
Not like it matters anyway, with all the Tess worshipping going on.
And you know, friends, isn't that bad, I guess.
You know what? Friends is fine. Friends is perfect.
Oh god, I need therapy.
There is no way I can wait until Tuesday.
As soon as I get home I run to the phone. Dr. Amos has an emergency home phone number.
"Hello?"
"Dr. Amos this is me Liz I need to change my appointment to Monday I can't wait until Tuesday please please please say you have an opening this is an emergency pleeeaaassseeee."
"Liz?"
"YES, Liz."
"Tomorrow?"
"TOMORROW."
"Calm down, I can fit you in after school."
"Ohhhhh good."
"Is everything ok?"
"NO."
"Ok, we'll talk about it tomorrow ok?"
"Ok, bye."
And I can only hope that Dr. Amos can fix me before I get to Tuesday.
*****
Maria is giving me her death glare, in her red shirt, so it must be Monday. She only wears her red shirt when she feels like killing people and she only feels like killing people on Monday. That's why she's always in a good mood on Tuesday, compared to Monday, any mood is a good mood. Color therapy, she calls it. But you knew that.
Somebody call in the National Guard, the sacred social networking system of West Roswell High has just been blown to smithereens.
And aside from Alex and Maria, I've got so many new best friends that I could bottle my popularity and sell it on a street corner.
Of course, none of them are friends with me because of my charming personality, it's because they want information about other people:
Kyle, in a sorry attempt to make his life even worse, wants to know the details of Max and Tess's little soirée. Details that I don't know. In Max's words "They didn't do anything" which, by definition, is just bullshit since anything includes everything, like sitting around, driving, picking your nose, staring at the wall, boinking, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. So unless they dropped from existence that night I doubt that they "didn't do anything."
Tess wants to know if Kyle is "OK", to which I replied "He's just fine and dandy." I made the sarcasm in my voice apparent enough to send her crying off to the bathroom. And yes, of course I felt bad, but as has been illustrated more than a zillion times, this isn't about me.
Tara Fisher wants to know if she can touch my arm 'cause Tess has been sleeping at my house. She wants to know her work schedule, the color of her pajamas, her brand of toothpaste. Unhealthy preoccupation much, Tara Fisher?
In fact, the only people that have addressed me personally are Max Evans and Eddie Williams.
Eddie Williams wants me to be his new drug queen. Apparently, he likes girls that screw with his head. So when he recovered the memories about the night of the party he went around school asking everyone if they knew the girl with the Converse All Stars. It was pretty easy for everyone to figure out it was me because I was the only girl not playing spin the bottle.
So Eddie, he comes up to me and says, " Your the girl from the party?"
And I go, "Huh?"
And he goes, "Let's go to the movies tonight."
And I go, "Let's not."
And he smiles and says, "Your perfect"
Apparently he likes girls that screw with his head and turn him down a lot. Apparently he's a glutton for self-punishment like another who will remain nameless. Apparently the drugs have done a number on his brain.
Speaking of the nameless, lets talk about Max Evans.
Max gained a few best buddy points today, he knows that I'm ready to kick my lying up a notch.
"Did I mention It's a three hour drive to Nowhere," He said.
"Nope."
"Did I mention we're not going to school tomorrow," He said. He had is conspiratory-evil grin on.
Apparently, I'm not just his new best friend, I'm his new partner in crime.
I can't help but get the feeling that if anyone else knew his secret, I wouldn't be getting so much attention.
So the end of the school day is finally here. And as I walk quickly down the hall to avoid Maria's death glare and Alex's disappointed glances and Max's evil grins, I hear Eddie Williams say, "You sure you don't want to go to the movies tonight?"
"Yes," I say.
And Eddie smiles.
I'm digging myself into a hole as we speak.
Bring on the therapy.
*****
Dr. Amos has a bunch of cool little knick knacks all over his office, for you to play with while he rips open your mind.
My favorite is this little plastic skeleton on a neon green podium. The skeleton is held up by a bunch of tightly pulled strings. You push a button at the bottom of the podium and the skeleton collapses into a pile of bones. You release the button and the strings tighten again, the skeleton is good as new.
There's a little black smiley face painted on the skull.
Push the button: bye bye smiley face.
"Fix me," I say to Dr. Amos, "I'm ready to be fixed."
Release the button: hello again, happy little skeleton.
"You want to stop lying?" Asks Dr. Amos.
"That's not what I meant."
"What do you mean?"
"I need to stop liking somebody."
Push the button: Hello you sad little pile of bones.
"The alien?" He asks.
"Maybe."
"You want to stop liking him?"
"Yea...isn't there some sort of behavioral conditioning or something?"
"Behavioral conditioning." He says.
Right about now, Dr. Amos is probably wishing he never lent me his clinical psychologist's field guide. He lent it to me thinking it's best for patients to be 'in the know'. Plus, he knew I could just go out and buy one of my own. But I think he's a little annoyed now that I've memorized every sort of treatment that exists.
Release the button: I keep dismembering you yet you stay so happy. If I were you, I wouldn't be smiling.
"Behavioral conditioning," says Dr. Amos, "Works best with phobias."
"It works with sex offenders." I say.
"Your not a sex offender." He says.
Yea, I know that doctor.
"It works with fetishes." I say.
"You don't have a fetish," he says, "You like a boy."
And I’m thinking: he's not a boy, he's an alien.
Maybe I have an alien fetish.
Nah.
"They did this study," I say, "Where a bunch of people had a shoe fetish. They put them in this room where there was this movie playing. And it would flash between pictures of shoes and pictures of corpses and blood and guts. After a while the people started to associate shoes with death. And Wa-la, no more shoe fetish."
"Or maybe," says Dr. Amos, "You could just ask him out."
"It's not like that, I'm his best buddy now, I get to hear about how much he likes Tess. I need to stop liking him by tomorrow. Maybe if I thought about something really bad every time I looked at him, maybe I could condition myself."
Do I sound too desperate?
"I don't think that would work." Says Dr. Amos.
"What would work?"
"There is nothing wrong with liking someone, Liz."
"There is if it's unhealthy."
"I don't think you liking someone is unhealthy."
This is where I want to tell Dr. Amos everything that I read in Max's file, get myself in huge trouble.
I could go about this in a roundabout way.
"So where is the point when it becomes unhealthy?"
"It's unhealthy," he says, "When you want someone so bad that you don't even care who it is, when you use it to punish yourself."
Release the button: Hello happy little guy. Hello completion. Hello togetherness. Hello unity.
"Why is it," I ask, "That the one you want is never the one that wants you back."
Push the button: Hello pile of bones. Hello destruction. Hello incongruency. Hello disillusionment.
"I don't know." He says.
"I'm going on a three hour drive to nowhere." I say.
"Why three hours?" He asks, thinking I'm speaking in metaphors.
Who am I to prove him wrong?
"Didn't you know.." I say, "That everything happens in threes? I've got six toes on my left foot and three on my right. I was born on March 3rd, 1933. And, oh yea, I'm a triplet."
*****
Max picks me up early in the morning, about the time we should be heading for school, and not two seconds into the drive does he start to blab.
And after about fifteen minutes, he wants to know, "So what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You know all my deepest darkest secrets," he says, "So what are yours?"
Good question, Max.
*****
Max picks me up early in the morning, about the time we should be heading for school, and not two seconds into the drive does he start to blab.
And after about fifteen minutes, he wants to know, "So what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You know all my deepest darkest secrets," he says, "So what are yours?"
Good question, Max.
I lie so that I don't have to show you who I really am.
I make up fake problems to explain why I feel so lonely and sad. Yea. Surprise! I know exactly what my problem is.
Dr. Amos thinks that I don't realize all this.
But I do.
But this isn't about me.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I look at Max and I'm thinking, corpses.
"No secrets here," I say.
"Liar."
"That is the most unoriginal put down that you could say to a pathological liar."
He smiles and I'm thinking, bloody mess.
"Eddie Williams is in love with me," I say.
Sometimes these words just come flying out of my mouth.
"The drug guy?" He asks.
"Yea, he wants my bod."
"Does he?"
"Wants me to have his love child."
He lowers his eyebrows and says, "Weird."
Yea, weird is right, why would a guy want little ol' me, right Max?
"Yea," I say, looking at the window, "Pretty fuckin weird, so who's gonna be at this book signing deal anyway."
Max looks at me funny, I can see this through the corner of my eye. Yea, that's right Max, you pissed me off.
He says, "Crater Leviathan."
No way.
"Crater Leviathan is like my favorite author in the world." I say.
And Max smiles and says, "Mine too."
I'm thinking road kill.
Let me tell you a little bit about Crater Leviathan. Crater Leviathan happens to be one of the oldest living great authors. He's about 86 and he's completely senile. He wears these big shiny purple capes with gold stars all around it. He swears constantly.
He is my hero.
The person I identify most with is an 86 year old senile man.
Who knew?
He writes fictions about the desert, about secret military projects. He writes about the discontented members of a desert town that has lots of secrets, ring any bells?
I can't believe Max knows about him.
I'm thinking dead people.
Max points to a heavy looking bag in his back seat, "How many of those do you think I can get him to sign."
Max has all 8 of his books. I only have two, I read the rest in the library.
I say, "A great man once said that to write is to go wading through a pool of toxic waste in search of clean water."
"Massive Complacency," Max says, "Prologue."
Then he says, "Life is a redundant time loop and death is a mirage."
"Convolution," I say, "Chapter 12."
Max nods and smiles.
I'm thinking decapitation.
So here we are on a road to nowhere.
Didn't someone write a song about that?
We don't talk a lot for the rest of the ride, until we get lost in nowhere land.
We finally find our way to this bookstore. It's huge, three stories. A big red sign on the front of the building says, "Nowhere Books: The biggest independent book store this side of the Mississippi."
I say, "Whoa."
Max says, "Wow."
We run inside and get separated immediately in the pure chaos.
Everyone inside is wearing purple capes and quoting passages from books. It feels like a Harry Potter convention for the old and mentally distressed. That wasn't a put down, I identify with these people.
A woman comes up to me and says, "Hoobla!"
And I go, "Hoobla?"
And she nods and goes, "Hoobla."
How can you not love this place?
I could get lost in here for hours.
And I do.
Max finds me later in the art book section and his eyes are as wide as saucers, he shoves a book in my face, "Look what he wrote."
Written in the front cover of the book, it says:
Max,
Secrets are the windows to the soul.
Or is that vegetables?
I live Nowhere, you should too.
Wake up son!
-Crater Leviathan
"Weird," I say, "If we were just a smidge crazier maybe we would get it."
He nods reluctantly, "What are you reading?"
That's when I show him what my world would look like. I show him art books with huge blown glass sculptures. I tell him that when I move out, I'm living in a huge glass house. Dark red with little gold flecks inside. Dome shaped with a tubed hole at the top for a fake fireplace, built on the side of a mountain.
"Better not move to the west coast," he says, "Too many earthquakes."
We go to the alien mythology section and look at pictures of crop circles. Funny thing is, he knows what some of them mean.
I say, "Freaky."
We go to the horticulture section and I show him my favorite tropical plants.
We go to the photography section and he shows me his favorite photographer.
I'm thinking: wow, he really does think about things other than Tess.
Then he goes, "We should go soon, I have a date with Tess at 5."
I look at him and I'm thinking, slaughterhouses.
When we get back in the car and head home, he puts his hand into one of his bags and says, "I got you something."
He pulls out a little bright green alien on a neon orange podium. He pushes a little button and it turns into a little dismembered alien. "It's stupid," he says, "but I thought it was funny, you know, like the one in Dr. Amos's office."
I look at him and I'm thinking, dismemberment.
I'm thinking gunshot wound.
I'm thinking massive head trauma.
I think I'm running out of bad things to think about.
I grab the alien and hold it up to him, "Is this you?" I ask.
He says, "Yea, pretty much."
"Which one is you." I say, pushing and releasing the button, "Happy little alien man, or unhappy little pile of alien parts?"
"I guess both."
This is the part where I realize how selfish I've been.
This is the part where I realize how nice it is to see him acting happy.
I can say this isn't about me a zillion times without believing it. I can paint him any way that I want. Truth is, this really isn't about me. His problems are mine times 100000. I'm just playing a part. I'm just observing. When he goes out on that date with Tess, I have to put my feelings aside. I have to get lost in some fantasy in my head to make it easier.
I can never be Tess.
It's unhealthy to believe I could ever be Tess.
He reaches for the toy.
"Mine," I say.
"Can I just play with it?"
"No."
He laughs, "Please?"
"Don't break it."
"I won't!"
As we drive, we watch the little alien fall down and get back up again a billion times.
"Your playing with it too much," I say, "Your gonna break it."
"I will not!" he says, "Jesus, I can always get you another one."
I hold out my hand, "Give it."
He sighs and gives me back my happy little alien, "Don't worry happy little alien" I say, "I won't let the big mean alien play with you anymore."
I'm thinking: What have I been reduced to?
I'm sitting here talking to a plastic toy like I would a dog.
Max says, "I never got to umm....thank you...for not telling anyone."
"Don't mention it."
"No really, I don't know what would have happened if anyone else found out."
"Well," I say, "I did it for purely selfish reasons, I don't want to see Roswell go down the tubes again."
This is, of course, bullshit. I did it for him. I wanted to save him.
"Well..thanks anyway."
"Yea."
You guessed it, I can't take a compliment. I'm not used to getting them very often, not used to giving them either.
When he drops me off in front of the Crashdown, I hold out the toy, force a smile on my face and say, "Little happy alien guy hopes you have fun on your date."
He smiles again. I'm thinking death, body parts, bad things, you name it.
Max says, "You know, if you keep talking through that alien, we might need to get you an extra session with Dr. Amos."
I put my finger on the little alien's head and bob it around, "Leave her alone."
After he leaves I walk into the Crashdown and slump into one of the booths. Courtney is immediately in my face, "Was that Max Evans?"
"Sure was."
"He's going out with Tess tonight, you know."
"Sure do."
And then, Courtney goes, "You better not get in Tess's way."
And I go, "I'm not in the mood Courtney, get the fuck away from me."
If I only had a camera.
As Courtney walks away, someone slides in the booth next to me and says, "That was rad."
Notice my insides cringing.
"Hi Eddie," I say monotonously. "No, I still don't want to go to the movies."
"Fine with me," he says, "we can just sit here and eat."
"Oh boy."
"Perfect," he says, "You going out with Evans?"
This is one lie I'm not willing to tell.
"Nope."
"Cool."
Eddie looks like he's been hanging out with a rock band too much. And he needs a hair cut. He'd be ok looking if he got a haircut. He's wearing a leather jacket.
I say, "That's a gross jacket."
"'Cause it's leather?" He asks.
"Yea."
"Same cow died to make the hamburger your probably about to eat."
Notice my blinding hypocricy.
I smile fakely, "Well consider me a vegetarian."
"Wanna go smoke some weed?"
"Not really"
"Ok."
He gets up and says, "The jacket is pleather."
"Huh?"
"Poly-vynl blend."
"BYE."
"See you at school," he says smiling.
I wonder if he would leave me alone if I was nice to him.
Do I wanna risk it?
Maria is giving me her death glare again. I know I'm gonna have to swallow my pride and apologize one of these days. Not today, today sucks.
I go upstairs and lay on my bed, thinking about nothing for hours.
I've never had a boyfriend. Isn't that sad? I'm a senior in high school for god's sake. The only boy I ever kissed was in seventh grade and was repulsive.
But that's just me. The virgin Mary of middle class suburbia.
Would shooting me be too much to ask?
I'm thinking of cars driving off cliffs.
The phone rings around eight. It's Max. And I just know this should be good 'cause he can barely push words out of his mouth.
"Oh god," he says, "I gotta tell you something."
"Lemme guess," I say, "Your home planet called and they want their ears back."
I can say stuff like this because I'm his new best friend. Insults are an integral part of friendship.
He doesn't even laugh.
"Tess," he says shakily, "Tess wants me to help her kill somebody."
I'm thinking dead people.
I'm thinking life in prison.
I'm thinking big mistake.
...
And I say: "Oh."
Would it be extremely horrible of me to say I told you so?
Probably.
"Liz?"
"Umm...what did you tell her?"
"I didn't tell her anything..." Max is seriously freaking out. "Liz...she's.....god, have you seen her arms?"
I think about Tess's arms. She's been covering them up. "Max, she's been staying at my house....I don't see how.."
"Just look at her arms."
I hear a noise from below. "When did your guys' date end?" I ask.
"A few minutes ago."
"Fuck, she's here, I gotta go."
"Liz, what the hell am I gonna do."
"Your gonna...calm down..."
I'm not big on comfort.
"And your gonna, breath. God, I dunno, go watch TV or something." I slam the phone down before Tess walks into my room.
When I look at her, I think about those after school specials where the wrinkled over-sexual woman gets this young stud to kill her husband. I think about Amy Fisher and Joey Buttafuco. Bitter revenge and bullets and paralysis and facial disfiguration. People that treat people like puppets, scapegoating, weak people taking the fall for the weaker.
Tess has got this look in her eye that I could imagine people getting when their dead. I've only seen one dead body before, my grandmother. Fortunately, her eyes were closed.
Correction: Two dead bodies. I saw Tess's dead body once, covered in blood and walking around like a zombie. Maybe she was never really brought back to life.
I open my mouth not knowing what the hell I'm gonna say. My guess is that it will be mean. It doesn't matter because she speaks before I do.
"You talked to Max," She says.
I nod.
"You don't get to be mad," She says.
When she talks, the top of her lip curves up like she's holding something in, tears or screams or something along those lines.
Her eyes drift downward and she stands in my doorway, clutching at the frame. She seems paralyzed. Rigermortis must be setting in. Even her hair is dying, It used to be so bouncy and fair, now it just hangs there in wavy, broken off pieces, taking on a sheen of piss yellow.
"I can't even feel anymore," she says. "I'm numb."
Even her outfit is dying. She has this long jacket that ties at the waist and flares out at her hips. She always used to give me these fashion tips: Wear long jackets cause they make you look taller. Her jacket just hangs on her like a dead animal. Even the outfit is dying.
"I won't let him take the fall," she says, "I'll take the fall, one hundred percent. I don't care, I just can't do it by myself."
Even her eyes are dying, turning yellow. She used to tell me: Wear white eyeliner to make your eyes look bigger. Blush, she used to say, is instant pretty. She used to tell me I didn't need to wear blush. She said I was a natural blusher. Her cheeks are pale, even her cheeks are dying.
"So you don't get to be mad," she says. "At least you can still feel."
Even her voice is dead.
"If you tell anyone, I'll deny it. Cheerleading practice was a real doozy sheriff. Fell on my ass and got bruised up and down."
I say, "Why."
She says, "Because I don't want Kyle to know."
"Kyle does know, Tess."
"No," she says, "He doesn't know everything."
Jesus Christ.
I walk up to Tess with my wide eyes. I think both of us are about to cry now. I push the jacket a little bit off her shoulder. I don't need to push it much to see that even her arms are dying. Dark purple, almost black, dead, that's all, just dead. I clench my eyes when I see it and she pulls her jacket back up, probably thinking she's a disgusting monster.
"Tess, when did you go home?"
"I went yesterday, to get some things."
"Is it your dad?"
"I'm not telling you."
This one's a no brainer, she lives alone with her dad.
"Take off your jacket," I tell her, "I'll get some ice, ok?"
She shakes her head.
"It's ok Tess," I say, "It'll feel better."
And when I make it down to the Crashdown ice bin, that's when the tears come. They're not selfish tears. They're tears for her. I don't want her to die.
I don't want her to hurt.
I want her to be normal Tess, walking around without a care in the world. Treating me like a social leper. Making the school into a caste system. Making fun of my fucking outfits, giving me fashion tips. I don't care, I just want her to stop hurting.
I can do this for her. I can swallow my pride and do this. I can comfort her and take care of her and become her fucking bodyguard if that's what it takes. I can try to convince her that there's another way to go about this. I can try to convince her that Kyle won't care what the hell has happened to her.
And no one is going to lay a goddamn finger on her again. I'm willing to bet money on that, lots of money. I'm willing to bet my life on that.
And no one is going to freaking die. Not her, not her dad.
Though, I would give my left arm to kick him in the face.
I fill a plastic bag full of ice and bring it back up to my room. She's sitting on my bed crying with those dead arms of hers. It's hard to believe they're really arms.
I lightly place the bag where the bruises are the most swollen, wipe some tears out of my eyes, and say, "Tess, Kyle won't care."
She just shakes her head and says, "Kyle can't know."
Then she breaks down, completely. Kyle is her weakness. "I love him," she says, her tears pouring over the shoulder of my shirt, "I never meant to hurt him."
And I swallow my own tears and stroke her hair, "It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong."
We stay like this for an hour. Me trying to convince her she's not a monster, me trying to convince her that she doesn't deserve this, me trying to convince her that I'm not just saying all this.
She tells me she feels ugly, that she doesn't want to talk about this anymore. We go into the bathroom and sadly sit around on the sink, I put some hot oil conditioner shit in her hair, she paints my nails lavender.
She likes doing girlie things like this. I'm not having such a bad time, maybe she's rubbing off on me. We do a load of laundry and she says, "You should wear more dark red and warmer colors, your an autumn."
I smile.
We give each other pedicures and she slathers some green shit all over my face. She says, "You should do this more often, keeps your pores clean."
I smile again. Fashion tips, beauty tips, keep them coming Tess. I know that this isn't such a big step. I know there's more to her than fashion tips and beauty tips. But it's a start.
So I go to bed. I let Tess sleep in my bed, it's big, and I don't care 'cause I like her now.
And I feel numb too. Probably not in the same way that she feels numb, but numb nevertheless. 'Cause I don't know how I'm supposed to feel.
I can't be jealous of her anymore. Nobody could.
I don't want to be her anymore.
But I still don't want Max to have anything to do with this. I don't think he would kill anyone for her, I don't think he's that stupid. I used to, not anymore. But this situation, it's bad. And it's starting to spin out of control.
And it needs to stop, before somebody does something they regret.
So it's Wednesday. You could say I'm confused.
In three days, a bottle will be pointing at me.
Only, I don't know this yet.
Right now, what's pointing at me is a wand of mascara.
And if my eyes don't start looking bigger soon, I won't be able to blink.
Do you know what happens when you don't blink?
Your eyes dry out and fall right out of your head. I think.
It's Wednesday morning, hours before school, way too early in my opinion. And to add to the utter perfectness of the situation, Tess invited Max over.
They're pretending that nothing happened.
So am I.
"We need to reinvent ourselves," Tess says.
I agree with her, but this is not what I had in mind.
"Tess," I say, trying to keep my eyes open, "My eyelashes are already black."
She retracts the menacing mascara wand and frowns, "Don't blink."
I blink.
"Urgh!" She says.
Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if I hadn't convinced Tess to wear some of my clothes.
In my clothes, I look normal, but Tess looks like she joined a grunge band. I'm a little taller than her so my pants hang below her shoes, also mine. Tess not wearing platforms, you gotta see this. She's got a T-shirt on with a thermal shirt underneath. Grunge, she's only mildly complaining.
Max is more than amused, at both of us.
"It's not even black," Tess says, "It's clear mascara."
"What's the point of that?" Max asks.
"I'll tell you what the point is," I say, "It's a ploy, a marketing scam, they sell you cheap clear gel in a bottle and charge you five bucks a pop. The promise of invisible beauty."
Max says, "Oh."
Tess says, "The point is, it flips your eyelashes up and keeps them in place, and it's cheaper when you don't need the color."
Max nods in confusion and says, "Oh."
"Beauty," I say, "Is an institution."
"Liz," Tess says, "I just wanna make your eyes look bigger."
Max laughs, "You read too much, both of you."
I say, "No such animal."
This is why I'm relaying this morning to you: I want you to know that this isn't one of those stories where the girl gets all done up and pretty and the guy realizes he's loved her the whole time, just because this one night she happened to be prettier than usual. That's bullshit, that's not love, that's department store advertisement.
This is the kind of random stuff I think about when I'm not thinking about Max, wondering if he'd like me if I was as pretty as Tess. Wondering if he notices my eyes look bigger or my nails are lavender.
I know, you could choke on the hypocrisy.
Talk about social commentary. I need to stop thinking.
Apparently, my enlarged eyes can only hold Tess's attention for so long. Now she's sitting next to Max, holding onto his arm.
She says, "Do you go to the gym?"
He says, "No, I do pull ups in my room every once in a while."
She rests her head on his shoulder.
Max smiles at me like all his dreams are coming true.
The thing is: he knows it's not real. I just don't get him.
And Tess, she really does like him. You know, she said to me something about if she wasn't in love with Kyle she would really really like Max.
After the crying episode, me and Tess talked here and there about her wanting to kill her dad and her getting the crap beaten out of her like it was no big thing.
Another defense mechanism, Dr. Amos would say.
Rationalization: You come up with various explanations to justify the situation, while denying your feelings.
So yea, we sit here a crack jokes and pretend nothings happening. This is just stuff that were not ready to deal with. Our unconscious minds are hating us right about now. All three of us.
In two days, I'm gonna wish I wasn't pretending that nothing was happening.
Only, I don't know this yet.
This is what else is going on in my head: Me and Max are going out on our first date. He's taking me to this little independent movie theater to see a movie adapted from a Crater Leviathan book. He buys me a candy bar. I buy him popcorn. When we're sitting down, our arms brush against each other, we both turn bright red and....
"We should get to school," Max says.
Little do I know, this is the day that Max takes over my head, completely. This is what we call obsession. I'm admitting all of this right now: I hate him, I love him, I know him, I don't understand him, but that doesn't matter. I just wanna sit here and think about him, there's not enough time to just think. If I just sit here and think about him enough, maybe it won't matter what's going on in the outside world.
Obsession.
If that's not unhealthy, then I don't know what is.
But at least it makes it easier to convince myself that I'm happy for him. And it makes it easier to focus on what really matters here: Tess.
So yea, I'm confused, you could say.
When we go to school, me and Tess and Max walk through the double doors together. Were reinventing ourselves, so all the high school politics don't matter to us anymore, and nothing matters much to Tess anymore.
I see Maria in the hall, she's not giving me her death glare anymore, she just looks sad. I should apologize right now, but I don't.
In two days I'm really gonna be wishing that I apologized to her.
See:
In three days, a bottle will be pointing at me.
In two days, my face will be slammed up against a refrigerator, a gun will be pointing at me, I'll be thinking about blood and snot mixed with Ketchup and Mustard.
In two days, I'm gonna realize just how many things I should have done differently.
Only, I don't know this yet.
Grunge, the new fashion statement sweeping across West Roswell High like wildfire. Tara Fisher is heard saying, "You know, I've always been a Nirvana fan."
A boy walks into the bathroom in new pants and comes out with holes ripped around the knees.
Tomorrow, I'm gonna try to get Tess to dress like a clown, see if anyone comes out of the bathroom with a bulbous red nose.
So lunch just started, I'm at the pay phone, calling Dr. Amos. I do this sometimes on Wednesdays, he usually expects it. He should be starting his lunch too.
He says I'm too attached, that he shouldn't encourage me by taking my calls.
But he always does.
"Hello?" He says.
"Hey Doc."
"Hello Liz, how are you today?"
"Fine, I just wanted to tell you, I haven't lied in almost half a day."
For me, this is almost a record.
"But we shouldn't get too excited," I say, "I haven't really had the chance."
When I'm done talking to Dr. Amos, I take a minute to stare out the window. It's so hot outside that everything is blurred by the heat rising off the pavement. Maybe it's a hundred and ten degrees, maybe it's a hundred and twelve. Alls you know is that you don't ever want to go outside again.
I'm eating lunch with Max today, I'm sure he's going to ask me about Tess. In fact, I'm so sure that, if he doesn't, I'll move to Tibet and become a monk.
Tess is eating lunch with Courtney today, to get her off our backs.
So I walk down the halls, next to the row of lockers.
Eddie Williams says, "You. Me. Party. Saturday night."
And I look at him, "Whose?"
"Mine. They're always mine. That was my house you were at last weekend."
I go, "Oh."
He nods.
Then I go, "What would you think, If I went to this party with you and I was fantasizing about somebody else the whole time."
He smiles, "Kinky."
I say, "Get a haircut."
He says, "Wear the red sweater."
"I have two."
"The darker one."
I nod and he starts walking backwards.
"Get a good haircut," I yell, "And don't do uppers before you pick me up or I won't be able to stand you."
Brutal honesty, I do this sometimes. Makes people think. It usually doesn't last for long.
So, why am I going to a party with Eddie? I don't know. Maybe because I'm sick of thinking, I'm sick of feeling. I'm sick of wondering why I'm not doing anything or how responsible people are supposed to act. Maybe I'm tired of thinking about Max and maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm tired of thinking about whether or not I should be tired.
Does that make sense?
I'm just drifting here, I'm just waiting for something to happen that doesn't involve me.
If this doesn't make sense, that's the point. It doesn't to me either.
So I meet my best buddy Max in Gym-ville. It's crowded today, because of the heat. But we still sit alone. Kyle thinks I'm a traitor, hanging out with the enemy.
I don't feel like a traitor.
I hope someday Kyle will understand all of this.
Across the gym, Michael and Isabel are hanging with Alex and Maria. They sit in a nicely spaced circle, Maria is slightly blushing. You can tell they're not used to each other yet.
Me and Max sit next to each other with our backs against the wall, sucking on our respective boxes of grape Kool-Aid. I hope he doesn't bring up Tess because I don't feel like talking about dead people at lunch.
"You got rejected too." I say, pointing my straw across the gym at his friends.
"Yea, they'll get over it," He says, "They always do."
We're sitting so close that our arms are touching. This is what best friends do.
He pulls a picture out of his backpack and hands it to me. It's a field of orange flowers.
He says, "Poppy reserve, California."
Sitting in the field is Max's nuclear family, a long time ago.
In my head, me and Max are getting married. No, scratch that, we decide not to get married because we agree that marriage is an institution, a piece of paper, a market. Instead, we decide to just live together. We get this little apartment and decorate it with junk. We don't have kids yet because Max says he wants me to himself for at least a couple years. In my head, Max is really cheesy romantic like this. But in my head, I'm learning how to take a compliment. We get a cat, a furry gray cat. We name him Crater.
In the picture, a ten year old Isabel is wearing a jean jacket with hot pink rhinestones. You can tell this was taken in the early nineties. Little Max has one arm around his sister and one arm around his mom, who is crouching down to his level. The orange flowers reach for miles into the background, pure orange until they reach the powder blue horizon. The flowers look like their falling over the edge of the world.
I say, "Wow."
I say, "Your head never did grow into those ears."
He gives me a 'screw-you' smile and grabs the picture. "We should go."
"To California?" I ask.
"Yea."
"That's like a sixteen hour drive."
"So."
I would tell him to take Tess if I wanted to talk about killing people right now.
"I don't have time," I say.
"When school is over."
"Why."
"Why what?"
"Why me."
Then he thinks. "Well," he says, "We have fun, don't we?"
Brutal honesty time. I say, "Whatever will Tess think."
He says, "She won't care, she knows we're good friends."
"Well, don't you have fun with Tess?"
"Yea, but we do different things."
"Like, say, boinking?"
"No.."
"What then, planning murders?" I say.
Uh-oh.
He just looks at me for a second, eyes on my forehead.
I know that was really fucked up.
"Forget it," He says.
He's about to get up when Tess walks by, she leans down and whispers to us, "Can you guys meet me at my house Friday night, there's some stuff I wanna get and I don't want to go alone."
I smile, she's finally trusting me on stuff like this. Maybe that murder deal was a passing thing.
I tell myself that I don't give a rat's ass if Max is mad at me.
So we go on like this.
We get through Wednesday.
We get through Thursday without talking.
I get through Thursday without talking to anyone.
In my head, me and Max are having our first fight. We make up quickly, we both admit blame, we just don't want to fight anymore.
In my head, me and Max are.....hehe....making up.
He picks me up on Friday and we make it through the car ride without talking. When we get to Tess's house, her car isn't there.
I say, "She's not here yet."
He nods.
I say, "I'm sorry."
He doesn't look convinced, he says, "Lets go for a walk."
So we walk.
And it's just one of those days.
One of those days where the heat sucks all the life out of you, you can't even think. One of those days where the sun is going down and it's still one hundred degrees outside. The heat is so dry, and when you walk, you can feel that some places are hotter than others. It swirls around you, it entrances you, it stings your eyes. It makes your heartbeat slow to save energy. It makes you lethargic and apathetic.
The bugs that come out when the sun goes down chirp in rhythmic patterns, hypnotizing patterns. You could get lost when it's like this, you could lay down one someone's lawn and fall asleep.
There's only a little bit of light left now, everything is turning greyish-blue. Max wipes some sweat off of his forehead and looks at a darkened little house. He looks over the gate into their side yard. He opens the gate.
I say, "What are you doing?"
He says, "Going swimming."
I just stand there. I'm thinking breaking and entering.
He talks in broken sentences because it's so hot and you have to save energy. "Nobody's home," he says, "It's hot. We swim."
I follow Max into the back of someone else's house trying to figure out what is going on. He says, "You'll break into Dr. Amos's office with me but you won't break into a swimming pool?"
He takes off his shirt.
I'm not saying a thing.
He takes off his pants and jumps into the pool in his boxers.
Not one dirty thought is passing through my mind.
I swear.
He says, "Come on, I forgive you already, get in." He splashes my feet.
And I say, "Turn around."
He rolls his eyes and turns around. I'm thinking this is maybe one of those intimate platonic best friend things. Girls do stuff like this together right? Go swimming in their underwear?
Right. So why should it be different for two best friends that happen to be a boy and a girl?
It's not sexual, you know. At least for him it's not.
So I take off my shirt, kick off my shoes, take off my pants. I get in before I let him turn around. The water is freezing and it feels good. It's like a shock to the body, a wake up call. It pulls you out of your trance, details start becoming more clear.
The pool light isn't on, so the water looks like black tar, you can't see underneath it. Good thing, because my very unsexy white cotton bra is probably doing nothing in the way of privacy.
I say, "If you ever have any doubt that your more insane than I am, you better remember this night."
I swim over to the stairs of the pool and sit down, rubbing some water over my face. Max swims over and sits next to me.
"I'm not gonna kill anyone," he says, "If that's what you think, I'm just worried about her, I just want to help her get through this."
I nod, "Me too."
He puts his arm around me in his friendly platonic best friend sort of way, "We'll get her through this."
"We really need to do something, Max," I say, "We need to turn him in."
He nods.
I continue, "I know Tess doesn't want it, I know it will cause all sorts of trouble, but we can't do nothing anymore."
"She's really confused," He says, "She'll forgive us for it."
I say, "Yea."
He's looking at me weird now. I'm looking straight ahead but I can see him looking at me, at my shoulder. He's grinding his jaw a little, he does this when he's thinking really hard.
I'm thinking platonic platonic platonic.
The stars are showing up now, they're reflecting off of the black water, so is the moon. The water, it's sparkling, shimmering silver on black, quivering.
He pokes at my cheek gently with his finger, "Your turning purple," He says, "Your cold."
Platonic.
He touches my lips with his finger and I can't move. My eyes slide over to look at him through the corner of my eye, he's looking at my lips. He says, "You lips are purple."
Sometimes people have these really platonic relationships but are really close. You know, like it wouldn't be so weird for say, Maria to touch my lips and tell me they're purple, I think.
I look down at my arm, my skin has turned this greyish-purple color. I'm freezing. I look dead.
He says, "Are you cold?"
I say, "No."
He closes his eyes and the hand he has around me starts rubbing on my shoulder.
Platonic.
Platonic.
He stops and stands up, he's smiling nervously, he's looking at my chin. He stands in front of me and holds out his hand.
So I take it, because I can't move and I can't think and I have nothing better to do.
And he pulls on my arm, pulls me into him. He wraps his arms around my waist, he rests his head on my shoulder.
And since this is one great big happy platonic hug, I wrap my arms around his neck, and I hug him back.
Best friends do this sort of thing, you know. Best friends hug. He's isolated, he's confused, he needs a best friend right now.
Best friends hug.
For comfort.
He needs it.
I give it.
We're friends, platonic ones.
Problem solved.
And you know, I'm almost about to convince myself of this platonic bullshit.
Right up until he kisses me.
I can lie to myself, easy, but this is a hard one.
'Cause best friends don't make out.
His eyes are closed. He's kissing the side of my mouth, slowly, moving down to my chin.
And I just stand here.
If this isn't a nervous breakdown, then I don't know what is.
His lips are so warm that I almost forget he's never looked in my eyes before.
He's got his arms around me so tight that not even water can get between us. I almost forget that this isn't what he wants.
When he reaches my neck, one of his hands moves up my back and tugs at my bra.
Funny how fast platonic turns sexual, huh?
I almost forget. There's all these feelings, good ones. And I'm not freezing anymore. And I've never been this close to someone. I almost forget.
I almost forget that I'm supposed to be nervous and scared out of my mind 'cause we just went from 0 to second base in 3.5 seconds. I almost forget that we're supposed to be somewhere else, helping someone....Tess. I almost forget that he hasn't looked into my eyes, or that I'm not the one he wants, or that he's probably closing his eyes so hard because he's imagining I'm Tess.
I almost forget that this isn't about me.
Almost.
So I'm going to do some rationalization. Defense mechanisms, I need them, I'm not ready to deal with this. Push my feelings aside, explain the situation in a rational manner.
Maybe Max does this with Tess. Maybe he doesn't care that she's thinking about Kyle when she's kissing him.
Well, I care.
So I say something. And he's working at my neck so softly that I can barely talk. My voice is choked, whispered. You don't want to screw with the silence.
You could trip on the quiet.
Forget about the shimmering water and the quiet and the lips and the hands and the warm. It's not real.
I say, "What are you doing."
My voice sounds more scared than I would like it too. I'm not scared, my feelings are pushed aside. I'm not anything.
I'm nothing.
I'm not even here.
He stops kissing my neck, he just stands there. His eyes are still closed. He's grinding his jaw again. He looks distressed, confused. "I don't know," he whispers.
This is me, speaking. I try to sound supportive, I try to sound caring. If I was a better actress, I would stroke his hair or some platonic best friend lovey-dovey shit like that. But I'm not. I say, "Your so close, to her, to having her."
This is me, choking, whispering. I say, "Don't mess it up, Max. You deserve to get what you want."
This is me, trying not to think about Kyle, trying not to think about how everyone's agenda is getting in the way of everyone else's.
He leans back, eyes still closed. He's got this painful 'I feel like a moron' look on his face. "I'm sorry," He says.
I believe him.
"It's ok," I say, trying to sound sincere, "Let's just go, we'll be late."
So we get out, we get dressed. We're uncomfortable.
My mind has shut off, it's running on a generator, on a back up plan. I'm just trying to walk straight. Concentrate on walking.
He's got that stoic look again, the one he gets when all his layers are up. But he looks sad. He looks sorry. He probably thinks he took advantage of me. He's probably feeling really bad.
I concentrate on walking. I concentrate on the wet spots forming on my sweater and how my underwear is really uncomfortable.
I concentrate on Tess. We're going to help her now, were going to do something. She's gonna stop hurting. She'll be pissed but she won't be hurting. I'll tell Kyle certain things. I'll tell him how scared she is, how there's stuff she's not ready to tell him, so don't push her.
Then I'm going to get myself out of this mess. What will happen to Max, I won't know. I'm going to stop watching and observing. After Tess stops hurting, I won't care what happens anymore.
When we reach Tess's house, her car is parked in the front. I'm hoping that she's waiting in the car but she's not. So that's bad.
We ring the doorbell in the silence. We wait a few minutes, listening to the bugs chirping, wishing our clothes would just dry already. Wishing this day would just end.
Little did we know, this day wasn't going to end anytime soon. But keep in mind, we don't know this yet.
We hear a scratching behind the door, we see the light through the peephole turn black, someone is looking out it.
The door sways open and there is Tess. This is the kind of dejavu that you never want to have.
Tess and blood. I've seen this all too often.
Only this time the blood isn't hers.
The look in her eye is beyond zombie and she drops a blood covered knife to the ground.
She's shaking.
You don't want to look behind her, your afraid you'll see something you don't want to see.
And Tess says, "Your late."
Then she breaks down. She cries. She cries like she's never cried in her life. "I couldn't....do it," She says through her sobs. "I couldn't do it all the way."
This is me, trying not to panic.
The three of us, we stand here in a triangle.
A menage-a-trios of pain, of self-punishment, this is all we've ever been. We were out to hurt each other, manipulate each other, hate and love each other. Now we have to work together.
I'm faced with a decision because Tess can't make decisions at the moment and I'm not ready to ask Max.
But who am I. Who am I to say what's right and wrong.
Who made me the judge?
If you shift your eyes to the left, you can see the figure laying on the ground, you can see the blurry outline. Don't turn your head, or you'll focus. You don't want to focus.
Did she do something wrong here? Does she deserve to be punished for attempted murder. Does she deserve any more punishment. If she doesn't, I have a plan.
Logic.
But still, if you shift your eyes to the left and downwards, you can see a trail of blood. You can see it hazily emerging from the figure, you can follow the path it makes in little drops between you and - whoever. If you shift your eyes to the right, you can follow the path it makes towards the knife. I wish her carpet wasn't white. I bet it's a bitch to get blood out of white carpet.
Logic always wins out in situations like this. I see blood, I think logic. Can't let my emotions rule, Tess can, I can't. But my plan, my plan would be the lie of the century.
Worse than covering up a car accident, worse than covering up an alien conspiracy, worse than washing the blood off the street that night, worse than burning those bloody clothes.
Who do I think I am. Why doesn't anyone else want to be the judge for a change.
If you raise your eyes a little, you can see Tess's knees against the carpet, you can see the tears falling on them. If you raise your eyes even more, you can see her face getting lost in her hands. Her wet, bloody hands. You know she's not a killer. You know what you have to do.
I know what I have to do.
And inside, I'm laughing. Sometimes the emotions are so strong that they have to come out somehow. I don't want to cry, so I think about how fucked up this is and I laugh inside.
I think about how I could have stopped this and I laugh inside.
It's a defense mechanism.
It's called: Reaction Formation.
Look it up.
'Without our defense mechanisms,' Says Dr. Amos, 'We wouldn't survive.'
'People need them,' says Dr. Amos, 'Don't mess with them, they are adaptive.'
I wonder if I'm becoming any less of a person.
I wonder if I'm becoming a defense mechanism.
I'm becoming a robot. I'm just a vessel for every psychological term in the book.
Max's biggest fear is telling Tess he's an alien.
My voice is mechanical, cold as steel. "Go in your room Tess, stay there."
She sobs harder. I don't want to be mean, but I'm doing this for her. " GO."
She goes.
I don't know where to start. I know what I have to do, but I don't know where to start.
I can't look at Max's face, I pull him over to the body with closed eyes.
When I open them I'm expecting some sort of shock, but it doesn't come quickly. I expected this, some greasy guy, a bloody knife wound on his chest, a gash on his forehead from where she must have knocked him out. This isn't affecting me.
Maybe I'm losing my humanity, maybe Max is too.
We kneel on either side of the body. The disgust comes slowly, but intnsly, in waves. I want to throw up.
Max is disgusted too, I can tell without looking. I grab his hand in mine and pull. Our hands hover over the body. I don't know how I know this, but I know we're both thinking the same thing:
Fucker deserves to die.
And:
It's not for us to decide.
I say, "Don't heal the head wound, we need him out."
Max nods and places his hand over the chest.
Ed Harding.
I hope he rots in jail. I hope he gets beat up a lot. I hope he gets what's coming to him. I wish I could be the one to give it to him.
But I can't.
I put my hand over Max's and he nods at me. This is for support. We're in this together.
He clenches his eyes shut when he heals him. I know he's seeing things, I hope it's nothing too traumatic.
"I knew it, I fucking knew it," this is coming from the door.
I'm thinking: Shit.
Me and Max turn our heads to see Kyle. Insane looking Kyle, rage filled Kyle. He's glaring at Max, "I knew it was you," Kyle says, "I knew you were the alien."
Max has this look on his face, like he's losing hope.
"What did you do to her," says Kyle, "Did you make her like you? Are you that fucking sick?"
Kyle has a one track mind: Tess. He's not even wondering why Max just healed Tess's dad.
"It's over," Max whispers to himself, "I'm over."
Not yet, Max.
I was touching the body too.
I get up and face Kyle like the feisty alien hybrid I'm pretending to become, "It's me Kyle, ME. I'm the alien. What are you going to do, you gonna turn me in? You gonna tell everyone? Your girlfriend just tried to kill someone, you want her to go to jail?"
I'm yelling at him, I'm being as intimidating as I can be.
And Kyle looks confused, about to cry, he says, "You?"
I nod, "Max is human," I say, "get out of here."
He starts walking backwards towards the door, slowly. Then turns around and runs. I hope he doesn't go do something stupid. Now we don't have much time.
Max says, "Liz."
I try to ignore the way he's looking at me. We don't have time for a mushy best friend moment.
I say, "Your welcome, now make the blood go away."
He looks down and nods, waving his hand over the carpet, over Ed's clothes, over the knife. We're almost done.
I put the knife in a big wooden block on the kitchen counter. We go into Tess's room, she's crying on her bed. Then words just come pouring from my mouth. Lies. This is for Max.
I tell her she has to listen to me, I tell her to concentrate. I tell her I made it go away, that she's not going to be in trouble. The bloods gone, the stab wound is gone.
I say, "I'm not from around here."
She wipes some tears out of her eyes and looks at me in awe, she says, "I always did think it was you."
So Tess thought I was an alien all along.
Inside, I'm laughing.
I say, "Lets get the hell out of here."
I tell Max to take Tess in his car. I take Tess's keys and get into hers. I think this is over, I'm not sure, but I think it is.
But there is something, something I'm forgetting.
What is it.
.....
Fuck.
Good thing my mom makes me carry around a cell phone. I reach into my bag and grab my cell phone, dial a few numbers. Tess carries hers in her pocket, always.
She answers, "Hello?"
"The gun Tess, where is the gun."
"Oh god," she says, "It's in the kitchen."
I slam on the breaks and swing the car around, "Why the kitchen."
She says, "He goes in my room, he doesn't go in the kitchen."
I say, "Where in the kitchen."
She says, "The drawer to the left of the fridge, in the back."
I hang up.
Almost over, this is almost over.
I think about going home, taking a shower, a hot shower. I think about laying down in the shower, and crying. I'm thinking, when am I going to be able to just start crying.
Crying is the hardest thing to put off for later.
I'm so tired.
So I go back to the house, we left the door unlocked. I creep past the body. I resist kicking it.
It would be so easy, to just kick it, really hard, in the face.
No kicking people in the face Liz.
I'm thinking about when I get back to my house and I can call the police.
I walk silently into the kitchen, open the drawer on the side of the fridge.
The gun is wrapped in a towel, several of them. Looks like your average towel drawer. I unwrap it. It's so weird, holding a gun like this.
I don't want to be holding it. I want to throw up again, I want to go home and cry, when will this be over.
When can I stop being a walking defense mechanism.
I hear a stirring in the living room, so I turn around. Ed Harding has decided to get up and start walking around.
What is this.
Why won't this end.
He's looking at me, he's touching the little bit of blood trickling from his head. This is the kind of person you don't want to see walking around.
I close my eyes, fear makes you close your eyes.
He says, "Little bitch tried to stab me."
He says, "Where is she."
I couldn't talk if I tried.
I grip tighter onto the gun, I'm shaking, so I don't want to drop it.
I close my mouth and try to hum but I can't. My throat is closing up.
He says, "Who the fuck are you." His voice is sick, slimy. He slithers closer, like a snake. My hand twitches.
He says, "Where is she."
He sees the gun.
I have the gun, so I try to convince myself that I have the power here.
He steps closer and I raise the gun.
I have the power. I have the power.
That's bullshit, I've never even seen a real gun up close.
But guns mean power.
Even if I don't know how to use it.
He steps closer.
I use both hands to hold the gun because one hand makes it too shaky. I try to think, this shouldn't be that hard, it's just a trigger right. But no, you have to cock it, I think, with your thumb, I don't know.
He steps closer.
It depends on what kind of gun it is, some guns go off when you cock them, Alex told me this. I think there is some guns that you don't have to cock. I don't know. Where is my power. Why isn't he scared.
He steps closer.
And what if I did know how to use it. I couldn't just shoot him, Could I. Could I shoot somebody, maybe I could aim for the knee. Could I do that.
He steps closer, he raises his hand.
I could just try a combination of things, I could cock it, pull the trigger, see what happens. But I don't want to see what happens, I want to know what I'm doing. I don't want to shoot somebody and have it surprise me.
He raises his hand and touches the tip of the gun, then slowly grabs it, then slowly pushes it so that it's not aiming at his face.
Or I could just give up.
I close my eyes when he rips the gun from my hands.
I failed myself.
I stand up straight, I prepare for what's going to happen.
How do you prepare for something like this, for something unknown. What is he going to do.
I feel a hand, grabbing my hair. Gripping it so hard that it feels like he's ripping it out. I feel my face slam against something, something cold.
I feel the round opening of the gun against my temple.
My cheekbone is throbbing.
I open my eyes and see the smooth surface of the refrigerator.
Do you want to know what it's like before you die?
Your life doesn't flash before your eyes, you think of stupid things.
I think about how I should have apologized to Maria.
I think about the crime scene photos. Brains mixed with day old sliced turkey. Blood and snot and tears mixed with ketchup and mustard. I know that death isn't romantic but this is about as unromantic as it gets.
Some slimy frizzy haired guy with a gun that beats little girls for a living shoots me and I get to die in a refrigerator.
I think about how I could have just let him bleed to death, dammit. I think about how this is the ultimate martyrdom. I know this is egotistical of me, but give me a break, I'm about to die.
I gave up my life because I'm too good to let someone die.
I think about Kyle running around town telling everyone that Liz Parker is an alien.
I think about Max without a best buddy, and I'm sad 'cause I know he'll be sad. Maria and Alex, they'll miss me, I hope they turn out ok. I'll miss them too. My parents, enough said, I don't want to do this, this is depressing.
At some point, you accept your fate. Maybe it's around the time when you hear the cock of the gun. You just know it's over. You let go.
And you know, I'm not really sad, just regretful. There's so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to get out of town, see the poppy fields with Max, see Seattle with Alex and Maria. I wanted to go to college and learn things.
I wanted to have sex. Pathetic, i know. But can you blame me. I wanted to be touched and kissed and loved.
I wanted someone to worship me like Max worships Tess.
You accept your fate, but you always have a glimmer of hope. Just a glimmer, because your not dead yet. You tell yourself, If I get out of this, I'm gonna change things, I'm gonna do things right, I'm gonna start thinking things through. I'm gonna do everything I've ever wanted to.
And then everything goes quiet, and you just listen. You listen to the quiet, you stare into the blackness beneath your eyelids.
Now your ready.
If it's your time, your ready.
***** Continue...
