The days leading up to starting school passed in a blur. It was at the beginning of February that I miscarried, on the fourth of that month to be exact. Our parents had arranged for us all to go back to school the following Monday, on the 8th of February. Incidentally, on that date, exactly 100 days had passed since the Halloween Party where I had first seen Max use his abilities. The party which had been the starting point for the chaotic life I was leading now.
It was surreal to think that it had only been 100 days, a little bit more than 3 months, since my whole life had changed. The things I had experienced during that time was more than most people would experience in an entire lifetime.
But in those few days before school would start for our group of weathered teenagers, I thought very little about numbers, months, and experiences. My mind was trapped in the foggiest of dazes, where I would not allow myself to think of neither the future nor the past.
Apparently, Buddha had once said, Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment,and that was exactly what I was trying to do.
Some might call it denial. Some might call it repression. And some might even call it regression. I called it coping. My father had briefly attempted to speak to me about seeing a therapist about, well, everything, but I had quickly brushed him off. Distracted him well enough to start talking about something else.
What was there I could tell a therapist anyway? 90% of my life was classified. Top Secret. Inconceivable.
The only thing I would be able to talk about with an outsider was the miscarriage. But that was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to my problems.
Maybe I could have talked about the death of my mother, focusing on the grief rather than the chain of events. But pondering the prospect of doing so had me realize that the therapist would sooner or later ask about those dangerous details and I might not have the energy to lie about what had happened. I definitely would not be able to tell the person that I still suffered nightmares tied to my real memories of how it felt to have your skin being so hot that it broke out in blisters and actually melted. The therapist would obviously be able to tell that I could never have been burnt because I had no scars. Not a physical mark on me. How would I explain that?
I spent my days watching from the outside, trapped in some imaginative glass bubble. Max was there, both inside and outside the bubble, his mind firmly connected with mine, his attention always fixed on my well-being. Max was better at interacting with the group, engaging in conversations, laughter and banter, while I solely continued to observe from the periphery. My body registered every brush of his hand against mine, every hug, every kiss to my forehead, cheek, lips. But I was not really there.
I observed my friends while they seemingly moved on with their lives, as if we were at some camping excursion instead of a fairly well guarded mansion. As if bad things had not happened and we were not still under threat. I watched Maria and Michael tease each other, get annoyed with each other, make out, yell at each other, laugh and hug. I noticed the glances between Isabel and Alex and the subtle touches whenever they got close to each other.
I watched my dad relax, involved in a discussion with Amy and Philip one second, then reading a magazine or book the next. He was getting more comfortable now that he could finally be open about the secrets in his head that hadn't made sense for so many years. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. But I couldn't help noticing the glances he threw in my direction with increasing frequency. How he kept wanting to talk to me, tell me to eat something, pulling me into sporadic and surprising hugs. While I was focusing on trying to respond to his concern by reassuring him that everything was okay, he was worried senseless about me. Obviously, I was failing miserably at my intention to calm him down.
I knew that Philip, Dresden and George were having a lot of discussions, but I didn't have the energy to get my head around what those discussions entailed. They were obviously about how we were all in the middle of the process of 'fixing' the Antarian race by ridding it of darkness. But the pseudo-meetings were also about the whereabouts of the mayor.
I had, however, paid enough attention to know that the mayor was still missing and that every lead so far was turning up blank.
Through the meetings I had also been informed of their plans to place protectors - bodyguards - around the school once Max and I started attending classes. Extra protectors were going to follow Max and I to and from school. If we needed to do any after school activities that didn't involve returning straight to the mansion, the protectors were to come along to those extracurricular activities as well. The protectors were to wear civilian clothing and attempt to avoid attracting attention. It didn't, however, stop me from being extremely aware of their constant presence.
The extra security made me feel a lot safer, but also a lot less free. I could only hope this arrangement was temporary. I could only hope that they would catch the mayor very soon.
"Ready?"
I looked up - my unseeing eyes having stared at the water from the tap as the stream swirled in slow, gentle curves around the drain at the center of the white porcelain sink before disappearing - to meet Max's worried reflection in the mirror as he was standing in the doorway to the bathroom.
I idly wondered how long he had been standing there, before I straightened, cleared my throat, turned off the tap and brushed my hair back. Too late I realized that my hands were still wet from having washed them previously and forgotten to dry them on off, my hands now making my hair damp at the temples.
Looking away from Max, I met my own reflection in the polished bathroom mirror and really saw me for the first time in so many days. I noticed the paleness to my face and the once full cheeks caving in with lack of life and food. I noticed the darkness underneath my eyes and the dryness to my lips. Without conscious thought, I licked my lips at the sight, but my attention was already drawn to my eyes. Once bright and lustrous, they were now flat and lifeless. Dead.
I frowned. A stranger was standing before the mirror, looking at me. Who was that? Who was this person who had replaced Elizabeth Parker? Why did my own face suddenly look unfamiliar?
"Lizzie?" Max asked, that all familiar stomach-gnawing worry in his voice.
I could feel his worry about me like claws slowly shredding through my insides. I quickly looked away from my (strange) reflection and turned to face him. He had lost weight too. Or rather, he had never really regained the weight he had previously lost. Being in a type of symbiosis with a girlfriend who was hurting mentally was putting a damper on his appetite as well.
He stretched his hand out towards me in a wordless invitation. I took a step forward and grabbed it, my hand lacking the strength to squeeze, but he made up for it by firmly pressing my hand, holding me tight in his warm hold.
I took another step forward and my chest brushed against his. When he didn't move, I looked up and met the darkness of his eyes. His eyes were never golden brown anymore. Lately, they were constantly dark with emotions.
"What?" I mumbled, wondering why he wasn't moving, why we weren't walking.
He searched my face and I scanned his. I itched to touch the small beard he was sporting and wanted to run my fingers through his thick hair. But my arms didn't move. They no longer obeyed such wishes.
Knowing my mind, he lifted the hand I had offered him and pressed my trembling palm against his cheek. The soft tips of my fingers sank into the rough hairs of his stubble. He leaned his head into my hand, flattening the palm of his hand against the back of mine.
"Do you want to do this?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper.
Wordlessly, I nodded.
"Because we can delay. Postpone. Whatever you need."
"I'm fine," I mumbled.
He was still for a couple of seconds, before angling his head to press a kiss to the heel of my hand.
"Okay," he agreed, even though we were both very aware that my assurance was an outright lie.
When we arrived downstairs, me with my thoughts somewhere else and Max practically dragging me along on my uncooperative feet, Maria addressed me with something. The loud buzz in my head hindered me from making out her words. I know that Isabel was close by too and that my father pulled me into a hug. I felt Alex's presence behind us the whole way out to the car.
Max was driving. I was placed in the passenger seat, Max helping me into the seat as if I were sick and unable to move on my own. He even leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. Maria and Alex were in the back. Michael and Isabel were in Isabel's car.
They were all being normal. Or acting normal. Maria and Alex were bantering in the backseat like two siblings, Max was telling them to behave like some father figure. Next they were gossiping about people at school, people they hadn't seen in several weeks. After that they moved on to discussing classes and teachers.
I didn't say a word. I was completely occupied with watching the landscape pass by the car window so quickly that it smoothed into a blur. I felt Max's gaze on the side of my face repeatedly, his recurrent silence from not participating in Maria and Alex's discussions telling me that he was acutely focused on me.
I guess it should make me feel special and taken care of. But I couldn't feel. Not now. I needed to take in that I was outside. Outside in the real world. Sitting in a car. Going to Roswell High.
*****
School.
With its bland bricked hallways, systematically and partly covered by yellow lockers, the place of learning used to be a place of enjoyment and indulgence for me. From a very young age, my nose had been constantly buried in a book, devouring Shakespeare, Austen, Hemingway, Tolkien, Dahl, and science. Science in every shape; biology, astronomy, physics, chemistry.
School.
With those brick hallways crammed with students. Teenagers occupied with their own lives. Teenagers with their noses buried in their smartphones, bumping into one another while occupied with something on the screen. Teenagers wearing the latest fashions or wearing no particular fashion at all. Teenagers who laughed, screamed, talked loudly, made dramatic gestures, flirted, snuck a peek at a love interest across the corridor.
Teenagers who stared. Stared at us. At me.
Teenagers who grew quiet and still as we passed. Teenagers who looked up from their smartphones and took a step to the side to avoid bumping into us.
While my head had been lowered up until now, entering the school made me look up. The silence that spread like a fire throughout the student population cleared the fog in my head, rebooted my survival instinct. Put my guard up.
From scanning the faces of the teens alone, I could fairly well estimate who were humans and who were not. The human students looked shocked, surprised, intrigued. Their faces looked like bird houses, their mouths hanging open in the formation of perfect circles. The alien students looked...blank. No surprises there. No expressions. Complete...nothingness. Except for their arms, which they all had crossed tightly across their chests in silent disapproval.
The chill in my chest was real. How much did they know? What story did the humans know? What story did the aliens know? Who were on our side?
Max's hand on my arm made me jump, while he hissed into my mind, Calm down!
Naturally, I looked down at my arm, where his fingers were digging deeply enough into my arm to make my skin blanch around his fingertips. Simultaneously, I couldn't help but notice the light that was being emitted from the tips of my fingers. The bright white light.
I inhaled sharply and managed to retract the energy. As soon as the light disappeared, my gaze snapped upwards to scan the crowd. How much had they seen?!
But their expressions were the same and no one was looking at my arm. The energy had been me, intuitively, preparing myself for battle, my whole being feeling threatened by the setting.
I won't let anything happen to you, Max told me silently, his promise firm and believable. And for the classes I'm not with you, Alex will be. And there'll be protectors in the corridors, disguised as guidance consolers, nurses, janitors.
"I know," I whispered under my breath, keeping a close watch on the persons flanking the sides of the hallway as if walking carefully past a starving pride of lions.
Catching the dark eyes of Courtney Green, the dangerous expression in her eyes making my heart miss a beat, I was reminded that I should speak to Max telepathically rather than vocally.
What do they know?
He squeezed my hand, directing me towards my locker. Distantly, I wondered if I would remember the combination to the lock. It had been so long.
Max stood next to me, looking unaffected and suave while I fumbled with the combination, his voice clear in my head.
Do you remember the back-up story I told you to tell Maria before she knew the truth?
Vaguely. There was something about me grieving my mother and dad and me going away on vacation-
Yes, Max told me approvingly. That's the one. At the same time that happened my dad got a job at a hospital in Boston and our whole family moved there. Michael attended school while we were in captivity, but his attendance is not regular as it is, so his absence probably didn't raise many flags. Alex was away on a trip. Maria and her mom traveled to join you and your dad.
I got the locker open and stilled as I stared at the books neatly piled up in there. A bittersweet nostalgic emotion that I had difficulty defining moved through me. The photographs decorating the inside of the door, photographs of Alex, Maria and I, - photographs from before - put a lump of sadness at the bottom of my throat.
But how does that explain you and I? I asked as I traced the backs of the books.
History of Life. Evolutionary Theory. Chemical Basis of Life. To Kill a Mockingbird. American History.
It doesn't, Max explained. The rumor that has been fluctuating was that we actually eloped and that the other stories were cover stories. That our parents went after us to track us down and they found us before we got married and hauled us back home.
I pulled out Evolutionary Theory for the biology lesson and asked, And we are going with that rumor?
Got any other ideas? We are going to be seen together. We are obviously a couple.
I closed the door to the locker with an obvious clang and looked up at him.
He looked rather bored. As if he was just waiting for his girlfriend to get her stuff. Not at all like he was having a conversation with her. I needed to practice that as well; that blank expression. I couldn't let the world know that I was actually silently talking to Max. It probably looked weird with all my emotions displayed on my face when I wasn't obviously talking to anybody.
I shrugged and told him, "Let's go with that."
"Let's go with what?" Alex asked behind me.
Max looked at him, "She'll tell you later," before returning his attention to me and using both his arms to pull me close. His hands rested on the top of the curve of my butt as he looked down at me and whispered, "We'll get through this." He bent slightly at the knees to softly place a kiss to my lips. "I love you."
I nodded. Tried not to cry. I hadn't been away from him for more than an hour since we had been reunited after having been rescued from captivity. We had two hours ahead of us with separate classes.Two hours in a place where I no longer felt safe.
"I'll see you in no time," Max continued, eavesdropping on my fears, and added quietly, And you can always talk to me like this, you know.
I nodded again, swallowed back the tears itching at the back of my throat.
He placed another kiss on my lips before he rested his warm lips on my forehead, cradling my cool cheek in his hand.
"I love you," I told him in a soft whisper, my voice wavering.
I couldn't explain why this freaked me out so much. Why the prospect of facing Roswell High on my own frightened me almost as much as facing Command in battle. School was supposed to be familiar. Safe.
Max slowly let me go and gave Alex a hard look. "Don't let her out of your sight."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex do a mock salute, tapping his heels together. "Yes, sire!"
His comical response to Max's deadly serious order eased my worries a bit, took the drama out of the situation, even though it brought more darkness to Max's expression.
Before Max could say anything, Alex cooled his appearance and said, "Relax. I'll guard her with my life."
It's his job, I thought darkly, but I couldn't deny that it felt good to have Alex next to me.
Max nodded at him, attempted a smile in my direction (which fell flat) and took off down the corridor.
Alex came around to face me, wearing his most goofy Alex-smile. Offering his bent elbow, he said, "Alrighty then. Let's do this. Let's face the monsters."
I shivered, took a deep breath, and looped my arm through his. There was not a single trace of bravado in my voice as I said, "Okay."