"Did you have fun at the disco?" Eliza asked. She was using a sarcastic tone that her sister, Sierra, didn't like.
"It's called the roller," she snapped, without answering the question. If the truth was to be told, she wasn't sure how it was. It has seemed different than usual. For one thing, no creepy boys had hit on her or any of her friends, which, frankly, had always been the norm. The people had also seemed a bit more caring about the safety of others; there were a lot less collisions and tears. She hadn't heard a swear word every ten seconds. And the ultra-violet lights must have been altered or something because when people skated under them, their eyes glowed silver. Sierra simply couldn't shake the uneasy feeling growing inside her.
"The roller," mimicked Eliza. "Whatever. I'm going to bed, if you're not keen to talk."
"I'm not keen to talk," Sierra said vaguely. Her mind was still on the strange two hours she'd just had. At least one of her friends, Kay, had seemed to share the confused feeling. She'd been able to tell by the girl's face.
The next day started off like any normal Saturday; the sisters slept in too much like the typical teenagers that they were, their father went out doing some form of exercise and their mother's yells of wanting a cup of tea fell on unconscious ears. Things changed when Sierra was roughly shaken awake. In that house, mind you, that action was practically illegal, so she could have been forgiven for letting out a string of slurred swear words and What the hell do you want's.
"Get up," her father said. "Pack a bag of your favourite things, not clothes. Treasures. I'll explain later."
Suddenly wide awake, Sierra flipped around on her back and shone the light of her phone at her dad's face. His eyes didn't reflect anything and his expression didn't change. "Go. We're not coming back."
She decided to obey before addressing any of the raging questions in her head. Like a tornado, she whirled around her bedroom, selecting her most prized possessions. The Harry Potter series. Her sketchbooks and creative writing. A bunch of band merch. A Telly Tubby doll. Her skates – hey, they were expensive. Down the hall she could hear her family also tearing their rooms apart.
Dad called for her to come now. Grabbing her bag, music and a charger, she decided to just go with it. At the end of her driveway was a big black four wheel drive. She could see that her dog and cat were in cages, being placed into the back of the truck. Her sister and mother were already in the back and she followed cautiously. Her dad sat in the front with a big man wearing sunglasses. They sped away as soon as she shut her door.
The car smelled like vanilla air freshener. Nice touch, mind, Sierra thought irritably. Can I wake up now? Subtly, she pinched her arm, hard, until it started bleeding. Hang on... nobody could smell in their sleep. That was how people died in fires. She looked at her family, all with set and terrified expressions. Usually, in her dreams, she struggled to see people's faces clearly. Now she could see every fine gold strand of her sister's hair, every line on her parents' faces, every line on the leather seats that she sat on. This was not a dream.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.
"A tip off," the driver said. "Someone at your father's work knew something that we weren't supposed to know. Aliens – taking over our bodies. I'm taking you all to a safe place."
Two fat tears fell out of Eliza's eyes. She'd been told earlier.
"Aliens," Sierra repeated blankly. "Safe place."
"Your father was told at work."
"Didn't believe them at first," her dad said. "But it's true."
Well, that escalated quickly. They all seemed to be waiting for her to say, "You're nuts!" but she didn't. Sierra had never been a realist and after the roller disco last night, her entire perspective on life had already changed quite comfortably. "Then save my friends as well," she said and rattled off a couple of addresses.
"We'll try," was all that the driver said.