"Eat your breakfast, Pete."
I stared at the green skinned alien who was wearing my mother's favorite blouse. "I'm an alien," I said.
"Yes I know, dear," Mom said. "So am I. So's your father. We told you, remember?"
"I'm an alien," I muttered again, looking at my reflection in the toaster again. There were four rows of vertical ridges from my lower lip to the bottom of my chin. It looked like Ant-Man was trying to grow crops on my face. "I can't believe I'm an alien. How can I be an alien?"
"Having parents from another planet helps," Dad said dryly. He was green too-- but a different shade than I was. I was a light emerald. He was a dark grass green. Mom was darker than either of us-- jade green. Mom was the only one with hair-- it was a very light shade of green.
"You're not helping, Dad. How could you not tell me we were from another planet?"
"That's a long story," Mom told me. "You've got to finish your breakfast. You're going to be late for school."
"School? Mom, I look like something from a bad science fiction movie. I can't go to school looking like this!"
"Then change."
"How?"
"How did you change this morning?"
"I don't know. I just woke up this morning looking like this." I shrugged. "Hey, maybe I'm dreaming! That's it! It's all some kind of weird dream!"
Mom slapped me.
I looked at her in surprise. She had never hit me before-- not once. Of course, she'd never needed to. A look from her was worse than a punch from the Incredible Hulk.
"You hit me!"
"Yes I did! And you felt it! This is not a dream, Peter Morgan! This is your reality! And as you are my son you willface it as a true heir to the house of Mor'Gan."
"Better listen to her, Pete," Dad said, drinking his coffee. "Next time she'll draw blood."
Mom glared at Dad. "You aren't helping."
"We should have told him a long time ago."
"You know why we couldn't."
"You were wrong, Beth. I listened to you like I always do, but the fact remains you were wrong. Pete, son, I promise I'll tell you everything when you get home from school. Right now, I've got to get to work-- I've got a killer presentation I have to give."
"Uh, Dad?"
"Do you really think that your pitch will work when you look like Kermit the Frog's big brother?"
"Oh." Dad shrugged-- and he was himself again. No, wait-- not himself. It suddenly occurred to me that this was the first time I had ever seen my father's true face . . . or my own.
He smiled at me and then walked out of the kitchen.
Mom looked at me. She looked more upset than I had ever seen her. "Peter."
"Yes, Mom?"
"You can control your appearance. If you want to look like-- yourself, you can do it."
"I don't know how!"
"You do know how. It's buried deep inside you, but it's part of who you are. Maybe your father was right. Maybe I should have told you the truth earlier. But-- I couldn't. I was afraid."
"Afraid?" The words "mom" and "afraid" just didn't go together for me. Mom wasn't afraid of anything!
"We'll explain later, Peter. In the meantime, I'll help you." She took my hand. "All you have to do is . . . this."
She squeezed my hand.
And it turned pink.
I raised my hand up to my face. No ridges. No pointy ears. And hair-- I had hair again!
"Thanks, Mom." I looked at her.
She was human again too. "Now you had better get to school. You're going to be late."
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"What if it happens again? What do I do?"
"You are a Skrull, Peter. Changing your form should be as easy as breathing. Change yourself back-- don't think about it. Just do it."
"It's not that easy."
"It is, Peter." Mom sighed. "You've been fighting what you are since before you were born, but you are a Skrull. You will always be a Skrull."
I felt a shiver run down my spine at my mother's words. I looked at my reflection once more on the side of the toaster. I looked like I always had-- before this morning.
But it was a lie. It had always been a lie.
I picked up my books and headed out the door. "Dad, I sure hope you do better explaining this than you did with the birds and the bees . . ."