Chapter Six: Time To Wake Up.
WAS IT POSSIBLE THAT ALIENS didn’t look like aliens—that they are just normal looking, like him and I? My brain was a jumble of thoughts, but that was the most dominant one. For a long moment we just sat together in silence, with only the glowing orb of energy lighting our faces. And I figured that Zharov was giving me a moment to absorb all this new found information. I was glad he understood that this wasn’t an everyday occurrence for normal teenagers. And that he didn’t just dump everything onto me and expect me to be able to form words. However, his blue eyes were most calming. They alone made me believe it would somehow be okay. And for the first time in a long time, I was starting to believe it just might be.
I mean, I was still freaking out, but I suppose that was understandable in this kind of situation. Hell, I had not only found of that aliens do indeed exist, but also that I apparently was one. Skeeter and Ronnie would die hearing news this big. I wonder if Jesse would still love me if he found out that I was part Martian? How would my friends react? They already think I am weird, but would they treat me any different? And my mum, oh Gosh, there was no way in the world that I was going to tell her. She’d have a heart attack.
Speaking of the devil, both Zharov and I jumped when my mum randomly burst into my room, but thankfully Z reacted quick enough to turn off his finger-light. However, any mother knows that when you walk in on a teenager and they jump; they were normally up to no good. She looked back and forth at us, as she eyed us suspiciously. Oh God, she probably assumed we were doing naughty things, and that I was cheating on Jesse—no, I’d never!
“Don’t you know to knock?” I practically yelled, as my heart raced and I tried to calm my shot nerves.
Okay, so my words didn’t help my reputation any, but it was better she suspected that we were kissing rather than aliens. “Well, I’m sorry, next time I will.” She made a face, but really she was lying. My mother never knocked, at least not when boys were over. I think it was her way of taking on the protective father role, considering my dad wasn’t around. It was almost like she wanted to send a warning to the boys, something to say, if you touch my daughter—I will catch you. I don’t know, my mother was almost as weird as me. “Dinner is ready,” she informed us, and then walked off, leaving the door wide open. Oh, yeah, that was another rule…that the door must always be open when male company is over.
“You probably still have a lot of questions,” Zharov stated the obvious. “But I hope they can wait until after dinner.”
Not really, dude, I just found out I was an alien! “I guess,” I shrugged. Hell; I couldn’t have a proper conversation with my mother lurking around like a ninja anyway.
Once we were at the dinner table, things got a little awkward, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Zharov was an alien. I was having dinner with an alien. How frickin’ bizarre is that? And no one knew—no one but me. I almost wanted to scream it at them, just so they would stop acting so damn casual and freak out as much as I was. Apparently finding out you’re part alien ruins your appetite because as good as my mother’s roast smelt, I wasn’t all that hungry anymore. So, I just played with my food instead.
“Wow, you really must be feeling sickly.” My mother laughed. “Normally you’ve cleaned your plate by now.”
I gazed up at Zharov, who was seated across from me, and he looked amused by my mother’s words. But I was too busy in my own world to take much notice of it. However, I was forced back into reality when I noticed how much salt Z had put on his roast. “Jeez, would you like some roast with your salt?” I smirked, wondering if loving salt was some kind of strange alien trait, because I did kind of love salt—but clearly not as much as him. In fact, I highly doubted that anyone on the entire planet loved salt as much as he did.
Z reluctantly put down the salt shaker, only to ask the most bizarre question to my mother. “You wouldn’t happen to have any lemon by any chance, would you?” He bit his lip, looking as though his heart was set on it.
“You put lemon on your roasts?” She studied him, but her facial expression was peculiar. We did have lemons, and she didn’t mind sparing one, but something was clearly bothering her.