Midnight Disaster ~FINALIST Watty Awards 2012~

Chapter 15 (Revised 4/18/2019)

"What...what's wrong? Does somebody...know?" I asked him desperately, feeling my insides twist together in a panicked knot.

If someone had figured out that Miles was an alien, what could we possibly do to save him? We'd have to take him away from here, and I had no idea how we would do that. And there'd be no promise they wouldn't come after us until we gave all our secrets away.

"No, no, that's not it," Cameron said.

I let out a breath of relief, holding my hand to my pounding heart. "Oh, God, Cameron. Don't do that to me again. You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I blew out another breath. "So what is wrong? If it's not about Miles, then what is it about?"

"I ran into Clarissa on my way over here today, and she's...well...she's..."

I quirked an eyebrow.

"She's upset that we've been avoiding her."

"We had no choice. You know that as well as I do."

He shrugged. "Yeah, but she doesn't. She said she's fed up with us, said she would have to be just as difficult to get through."

"And? That's Clarissa, Cameron. As long as she didn't follow you back here or demand to come in then we're good, right?"

"That wasn't the end of it. She invited us to a party with her and Cory tonight."

I shrugged, still not seeing a reason to worry. "So? You're actually worried about this?"

He nodded but didn't say anything like he wasn't quite sure how to respond.

"I think you need to redefine your idea of the word 'problem.' God, Cameron, you had me convinced something was actually wrong. A party invitation? That isn't a big deal. All we have to do is tell her 'no' like we've been doing this past month," I said, tone lighter than it had been earlier. "That's not hard, I can text her that right now if you want."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened it, prepared to text Clarissa. Cameron set his hand on the screen, slipping it from me before I could stop him. He closed it and pushed it into his pocket with a sigh.

"It's not that simple, Maya," Cameron said wistfully. "If it was, I would've done it myself."

"Is there something about it that you haven't told me?"

"She told me that if we don't go willingly with her, then Cory and her will drag us there anyway. If they come in here, they're going to see Miles. Her and Cory."

I stared up at him in indecisive horror. Cameron and I could avoid that by just going to the party, but the thought of leaving Miles alone in the house was worrisome. Sure we could leave him by himself in the room, but to be totally away from him gave me a sickening rush of anxiety.

He dressed and talked well enough to pass for a person, and in the darkness of a party, no one would know anything different. Something about that left me just as uneasy though because to bring him would mean introducing him to Clarissa and Cory—the thing we've literally spent a month avoiding.

"This isn't good," I muttered finally and took a step forward to peek around the corner of the wall to see Miles in the kitchen. He was still sitting in his chair and staring down at the table, his body perfectly rigid. He looked like he was straining to try to hear our conversation, and I wondered if he actually could hear us.

"What are we going to do?" Cameron asked me suddenly.

I backed away to look at him. "Seems like we don't have a choice. Clarissa wins tonight."

"How does this work? We leave him locked in Daniel's room?"

"Our best bet is to take him with us."

Cameron's jaws gaped. "Are you serious?"

I bobbed my head. "He'll blend in, I have confidence in that."

"Will he? What if someone tries to have a conversation with him? He's different, and they're gonna notice that if not by his looks then by his speech."

"What other choice do we have?" I asked, flaring my nostrils.

Cameron opened his mouth as if he was about to argue, but no words came out. We were literally trapped between a rock and a hard place.

"I think it's time that we just do it and get it over with," I said.

Cameron reached up, ruffling his shaggy blond hair. "Alright."

"Just hope for the best."

"I can hope for a lot of things, it doesn't mean it'll work out that way," he pointed out.

I puffed up my cheeks with air before slowing blowing it out. He was right, but my brain had given up. Nothing sounded like a good idea, and the more thought I put into everything, the worse I felt.