Chapter Eleven:



"No," I said. "Try to get this straight. I'm Rachel. I'm a female. So is Cassie. Female, I mean. Jake, Marco, Tobias, and Ax are all males."

I was lying on my bed, chin resting on my hands, trying to talk to the Helmacron. It wasn't easy.

And this Cassie is your captain? she asked.

"No. Jake is the leader."

But you just said he was male!

"He is."

Then he cannot be your captain. Captains are female. Also, this Jake is alive.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot your weird, Helmacrons-kill-their-leaders thing."

No wonder you have not yet succeeded in driving the Yeerks off your planet. Jake, your captain, is still alive. You should kill her, and then she would be an effective leader.

"Him. 'We should kill him,'" I repeated, emphasizing the 'him.' Man, would this thing never learn?

Then you agree with me?

"Huh?"

You will kill Jake?

"*What*?" What was she talking about?

You just said, "We should kill him."

I rolled my eyes. "I was correcting your grammar!"

Then you won't kill her?

"Him. And no." My head was beginning to ache. I wanted out of that conversation. "Listen, we'll sort all this out later. I need something to eat. Are you hungry?"

Yes. Although it has been only four days since my last meal, I find myself curiously ravenous. Perhaps it is because of your cloyingly large Earth atmosphere.

I was getting used to the Helmacron scattering insults through the conversation. "Four days?" I repeated. "How often do you people need to eat?"

Brave Helmacron females only require food once every week, in general. That does not appear to be the case here, although I am unsure why.

I squinted at her. I couldn't be sure, of course, as she was so small, but I got the impression that she was a little larger than your average Helmacron. Larger around the middle, I mean. My guess is that her desire for food didn't have all that much to do with the large Earth atmosphere.

"I'll grab something from the kitchen," I said, levering myself off the bed. "Back in a second. Stay there." Like she could go anywhere . . .

I thought you were female! the Helmacron protested.

I paused by the door. "I am. What are you talking about now?"

Females do not prepare their own food. That is a task for the males.

"Not on Earth." That creature had one serious gender-obsession. I left the room, shaking my head. I hoped Jake was coming up with one great plan for getting rid of our guest, because I was losing patience really, really fast.

Jordan poked her head out of her room. She looked angry, but over that was a layer of curiosity. "Who was on the phone?" she asked.

"What?"

"You were in your room, talking on the phone to someone. Who was it?"

Oh, right. The Helmacron had been using private thoughtspeak, so all Jordan had heard was me talking. It would have sounded like I was on the phone. "Um, Cassie," I said.

I could remember, vaguely, a time when I felt bad about lying to my family. Now it was second-nature.

"Uh-huh." She frowned at me. "I'm still mad."

"Look," I said, "I didn't tell Mom about Megan. She heard it from somebody else."

"Yeah, sure," she snorted. "The Tooth Fairy told her."

"Whoever," I said, and headed downstairs.

Actually, now that she mentioned it, I started to wonder. Who *had* told Mom about Megan? Had she just been talking with a teacher, or something?

Well, it was probably useless to wonder about those things. Not only was Mom a mom, but she was a lawyer. People like her just find out about things.

Sara was at the kitchen table, drawing a typical little-girl picture. You know, a very square house, with a yellow sun, lots of flowers, and a tree with a bird in it. It was really cute, actually.

"Hi, Rachel," she chirped as I walked in.

"Hey kiddo. Drawing?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." I opened the fridge, looking for something fast and easy. I couldn't afford to leave the Helmacron alone for too long. Too bad we'd finished up the last of that pizza. I pulled a Tupperware labeled, "Chicken Soup" out of the back of the fridge, and shook it dubiously. It rattled. "That's just not right," I muttered, shoving it behind the milk. "Sara, remind me to clean out this fridge sometime."

"'Kay," she agreed.

I finally gave up on finding anything worthwhile and grabbed a couple PopTarts out of the cupboard. While they were heating up, I watched Sara draw. Her head was cocked to one side, and the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration. Her whole world was centered on that one little picture. I saw her add a scrawled stick figure in a pink dress like the one she was wearing.

"Is that you?" I asked.

"Yeah." She put a large, down-turned line on the face of the stick figure.

"Are you frowning?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"'Cause you and Jordan are fighting."

Ouch.

I leaned on the kitchen table, and looked into her big, innocent eyes. What was I supposed to tell her? Sorry for being angry? Anger gets me through night after night of screaming terror. Sorry for not wanting Jordan to go the party? I was trying to keep Jordan alive. "Sara, I - "

The toaster crunched as my PopTarts finished warming.

Leaving the sentence unfinished, I grabbed the food and headed up to my room. I didn't even know what I would have said. Probably something that would only upset her further, no matter how hard I tried to comfort her. I couldn't talk to Sara anymore. Not really. I'm pretty sure she saw, better than most people, the change in me. I knew it was partially my fault that Sara cried more often now. Maybe all my fault.

I pounded up the stairs, that feeling of frustrated helplessness beginning to boil in my blood again. I couldn't keep my baby sister from being sad. And I couldn't stop myself from getting angry because of that.

At the end of the hall, my door was ajar. I could hear somebody moving around in there. And whoever they were, they were a whole lot bigger than a Helmacron.

My heart throbbed in my throat as I pushed open the door.

Jordan was on her hands and knees, peering under the bed. She looked up at me, an amazed expression on her face. "Rachel," she said, "you have to come see this weird bug. It looks just like an alien!"