CHAPTER 15
Maria sat in the nearly empty auditorium and tried to concentrate on her script. She should have been using this time to memorize her lines, but instead, she slouched down and let her head fall back tiredly onto the back of her seat. She glanced beneath shuttered lids at the stage and watched as Pamela, Melanie and Debbie ran through the title song from the show. They were pretty good, actually. Their voices blended well, and they had most of their movements down pat. Too bad they couldn't be a little friendlier; she'd be having a much better time at rehearsals if they didn't practically ignore her existence.
Oh well. Another week or two and the pit combo would start rehearsing with them, so Alex would be nearby. One friendly face. Well, not the only one, really. Ms. Bedinger was perfectly nice--for a teacher--and she was getting along really well with Mark, thank goodness. Since they had to spend so much time working together.
Speak of the devil. Mark sat down next to her and smiled. "How's it going?"
"Okay," she answered, then nodded towards the stage and commented, "The opening number's going pretty well."
"Yeah, they're doing a great job. Almost as good as we are," Mark teased.
She smiled back at him. "You know, it's really great to work with someone who's so humble and in touch with himself."
"That's me, Mr. Humility," he joked back. They watched for a moment as Ms. Bedinger gave the girls onstage a few notes and they began the number again. "I can't believe we've gotten almost all of the scenework blocked," he commented. "Ms. Bedinger's really pushing us through it this year."
"Is she always like this? So driven?" Maria wondered aloud.
"She does like to have lots of time to run scenes once we're off book," he answered. "She'll do a lot of polishing then. And it's not like you and I have a whole lot of choreography to worry about, so it's easier to find time to work on the scenes."
"That's true."
"I hear your friend Whitman is going to play in the pit, huh?" he asked.
Maria smiled fondly. "Uh-huh. He's really good. I can't wait to hear how they all sound."
"They start rehearsing yet?"
"They started Tuesday. Another week or so, and they'll be ready for us to run through numbers with them."
"That'll be good." There was more silence as they watched the rehearsal in progress.
"So what's up with you and Guerin?" he asked suddenly.
"What?"
"You and Guerin. I couldn't help but notice the uh...conversation...you two were having at lunch the other day."
"You saw that?"
"Half the school saw it. Man, has he got a good arm."
"Oh." She flushed and bit her lip.
"Hey, don't worry about it. It's not like everyone's buzzing about it or anything. It was four days ago. You know good ol' West Roswell High. There's something new and more exciting to gossip about by now."
"Yeah."
"I just wondered what was up. You looked upset. Can't have my leading lady all distracted now, can I?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"What? And you think I have been?" she asked indignantly, sitting up. "I've worked really hard this week!"
"No, no. I didn't mean that. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine."
"And Guerin?" he prodded.
"He's...he's a friend."
"Yeah, it sure looked like it," he said dryly.
"It's complicated. There's a lot going on..." Her voice trailed off as he grunted noncommittally. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Just how much of the conversation did you hear?"
"Not much, just the tail end. Enough to know you two weren't on the best of terms."
"We're fine."
He eyed her, eyebrows raised. "Okay," she said, "we went through a rough patch there. But we're still friends."
"He's kind of a strange friend for you to have."
"Why?" she asked crossly.
"You know, you just don't seem like you should be moving in the same circles, that's all. He's weird."
She frowned at him, saying, "Well, maybe I like weird. Lots of my friends are weird. God knows I'm weird."
"Yeah, but on you, it works," he said. She looked at him skeptically before bursting into laughter at his hopeful expression.
"Okay, you dug yourself out of that one," she said between gusts of laughter. He joined in with a chuckle.
Their laughter died down as they heard, "Maria? Mark? If you're ready, we'll try running the 'Skid Row' number." With a smile, Maria tossed her script on top of her bookbag and headed for the stage.
Humming to herself, Maria crossed the parking lot to where she'd left the Jetta. She was lucky that her mom hadn't needed it, so she could get from rehearsal to the Crashdown in time to work the Friday evening shift, which was always busy. She'd actually gotten out of rehearsal early, as Ms. Bedinger had decided to finish up the afternoon working with Mark and Dennis Cooper, who was playing Mr. Mushnik. They'd had a productive rehearsal, and Maria was feeling pretty good about things. She would head on over to the restaurant and maybe even get a head start on the weekend's homework before work. Liz would have a heart attack.
Opening the car door, she tossed her bookbag onto the passenger seat and hopped in. She was about to buckle her seat belt when a strong feeling of déja vu made her pause. Looking directly ahead, she saw a piece of paper on her windshield. This time there was no hand holding it down; her windshield wiper had that duty. She hesitated, a funny feeling in her stomach, before getting back out of the car. She looked around the empty parking lot, seeing no one, before pulling the paper from its resting place. Why was she feeling so strange? It was probably just a note from Liz or something. Still, her hands shook as she unfolded it.
Her mouth went dry as she read the words: YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT. She glanced around again, but no one was in sight. What was this? Get away with what? The only out-of-the-ordinary thing she'd done recently was...Oh god. Her very public fight with Michael.
Without giving it a moment's thought, she scrambled into the Jetta and started it, pulling out of the lot with a screech of tires. Okay. Keep calm. Nothing to get worried about here. Just because you've been on the receiving end of a couple of very strange messages, there was no need to panic. No problem. A few minutes later, she found she'd pulled up in front of Michael's apartment building. She'd driven there almost without realizing it. She'd meant to head out to the Crashdown, but here she was.
Nervously, she got out of the car and headed up to Michael's apartment. Knocking loudly on his door, she fidgeted uncomfortably as her mind raced. What was she doing there? Something strange happens, and she freaks and runs to Michael? Like he was going to be able to do anything about it. Right. So much for giving him some space. There was no answer to her knock, and she felt relieved. Okay. She wouldn't make a big deal of this. She'd just head to work and tell Liz about it. Her very rational friend would come up with a logical reason for the note and they'd laugh together and everything would be just fine and dandy. Obeying her own instructions, Maria turned and headed back down the hall, only to be brought up short as Michael started up the stairway.
He looked at her for a moment before continuing up the stairs. "What's up?" he asked.
She felt stupid now. Fumbling for a reason for her presence, she heard herself begin to babble, "I'm not here to invade your space or anything. I'm just..." What? Running to him with all her problems even though he was busy trying to deal with his own? "Ummm...I came to get the sketch you found."
His hands in his pockets, he looked down at her. "Why?" he asked.
She stumbled for a few seconds, trying to give an answer. Any answer. "Ummm...I...Look, it's mine and I want it." She spoke firmly. "Enough said."
He eyed her consideringly for another moment before acquiescing. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked his door. "Wait here," he said shortly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
Maria stared at the door. What was this? It wasn't like she'd never been in his apartment before. And now he couldn't even stand to have her inside for one minute? She fumed silently, her brow wrinkling. What did he think he was hiding? Contraband? Dirty magazines? Sexy alien women with big--
Michael opened the door and looked at her questioningly. She wiped the annoyed look off her face.
"Here." He handed her the folded-up paper.
She took it and fingered it nervously. "Thanks." After a moment, she turned to go.
His voice made her pause. "You okay?"
She carefully pasted a cheerful smile on her face before turning back to face him. "Of course I'm okay. I'm just fantastic, as a matter of fact. Never been better." Uh-oh. Better shut up now. She watched him watch her, his eyes narrowed. Finally he gave a little half-shrug and leaned against the doorjamb. She gave one more smile and headed down the hall, well aware that his eyes followed her until she was out of his sight.
Bookbag in hand, Maria raced up the stairs leading from the Crashdown's back room to the Parkers' home. Like she'd done a million times before, she headed straight for Liz's room. The door was open and the desk light was on, but Liz wasn't there. Maria paused for a moment, and then, hearing voices on the roof patio outside Liz's window, climbed out.
Liz and Max were in mid-conversation, Liz sitting on her lounge chair and Max leaning up against the wall of the building. "Oops," Maria blurted. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt."
"You didn't," Liz responded, smiling. "Nothing important, anyway."
"You sure?" the blonde girl asked. "'Cause I can go downstairs and talk to you after my shift."
Liz looked at her, eyebrows raised, taking in her harried appearance. "Maria, what's going on? You seem...upset."
"It's nothing," Maria assured her. "Look, I'll just head downstairs and get ready for work."
Max spoke up. "No need," he said with a kind smile. "I'll just leave you two to talk. 'Bye, Maria. I'll see you tomorrow, Liz." Taking one last glance at the petite brunette on the lounge, he climbed down the fire escape ladder and was gone.
"And what was that all about?" asked Maria quizzically. "For two people who say they're just friends, you sure looked awfully intent on each other."
"I know," Liz answered. "We still don't agree on my leaving him to fulfill his destiny, lead his people." She smiled shyly. "But we're talking about it."
"Lizzy!" cried Maria, happy for her friend. "I knew you couldn't hold out on him. It's so obvious how much he loves you." She looked at Liz's rosy face. "And truth to tell, I never understood how you could just walk away from him like that. Not when you loved each other."
"I know you didn't. I'm not sure how I could, either. I just know it was what I had to do." She looked at Maria, suddenly unsure of what to say. "I wish I could explain it to you, Maria. But I really appreciate you being there for me, even though I can't."
"Hey, best friends, remember? I've always got your back, Liz. No matter what."
Smiling gratefully at her friend, Liz changed the subject. "So what is so important that you had to rush over here for? I thought you had rehearsal this afternoon."
"They're working on scenes I'm not in. And I did want to show you something." She looked at Liz intently. "Do me a favor, okay? This is kept between us."
"Sure," Liz said, startled. "If that's what you want. What's going on?"
Maria reached into her bookbag and fished out two pieces of paper--the note she'd found on her car that afternoon and the sketch she'd just gotten from Michael. "I think someone's playing a practical joke on me, and it's got me a little weirded out," she admitted. "This is the note I found in my locker on Monday, and this was left on my car this afternoon." She handed them to Liz, who unfolded them and studied them carefully.
"Are you sure it's a practical joke?" Liz asked. "It seems a bit more...malevolent than that. Who do we know who would do something like this?"
Maria dropped her bookbag and sat on the lounge chair next to Liz. "No. Uh-uh. See, you're supposed to tell me I'm imagining things. That it's nothing. You're falling down on the job, Liz."
Her best friend looked at her seriously and replied, "I'm sorry. I wish I could do that. But this note--what aren't you going to get away with? And the sketch. It's obviously you. Anyone could see that. Honestly, it worries me a little. I wish I knew what it all means."
"You and me both," Maria chimed in.
"The note is disturbing enough, but why didn't you show me the drawing earlier?"
"I was going to, but...well, Michael had it."
"Michael?"
Maria nodded. "He picked it up at lunch on Monday and wouldn't give it back to me."
"That's odd," mused Liz. "But you have it now."
"After I found today's note, I headed over to Michael's and retrieved it."
"Well, Michael's usually the first one to jump on the paranoia bandwagon. What did he say about it?"
"Nothing about the sketch. And I...I didn't tell him about the other note."
"Why not?" asked Liz.
"Not everything has to do with the Czechoslovakians, Liz," Maria pointed out. "Besides, I didn't want him spending time thinking about other things when he should be concentrating on unscrambling his brain! First things first," she added firmly.
"I thought you were going to give him some time to deal with things on his own," Liz reminded her gently.
"I am. He wanted space; I'm giving him space. But it's been three days! What is he waiting for?" complained Maria.
Liz gave her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the papers in her hands. "About these notes, Maria, I--" she began.
"No, Liz. You promised to keep this between us. Don't tell anyone, okay? I just...well, I hoped you would tell me not to worry about it, but since you didn't, I just want some time to think about it. Let's get through one problem before dealing with another. Please?"
Liz reluctantly nodded. "Okay."
Alex groaned as he looked at the stack of boxes piled haphazardly at the back of the garage. What a way to spend a Saturday morning. There were lots of things he could be doing--fun, interesting things. But no, here he was cleaning out the garage. Woohoo. With that expression of excitement out of the way, he decided to move all the boxes into the middle and then start sorting. Luckily both of his parents were out, so there was plenty of space to work with both cars gone. His bike didn't take up much room, after all.
Picking up the first box, he carried it to the front of the garage and dropped it with a thud. Oops. He hoped there wasn't anything breakable in there. Heading back to the pile, he grabbed a very tall, bulky box and began to move blindly to the front, the box blocking his view.
"Whitman," he heard.
Stopping in his tracks, Alex shook his head. That had sounded like...No, there was no way he would be seeking him out. He must be imagining things. Well, he could quit being a total doofus; there was one way to find out. He set the box down next to the first one and looked up. It was. "Guerin," he said calmly.
Michael stood in the open doorway, looking very out of place framed against the Whitmans' neat lawn. He didn't speak. Well, that wasn't exactly unusual. Alex waited for a moment before deciding that he had work to do. "Well, if you're not going to tell me why you're here, at least you can help me move these boxes," he said. Michael seemed to mull this over a moment before joining him inside the garage. "Just move the boxes from the back of the garage to the front," he instructed. "Then I can go through them, sort things, and put them back."
"Why?" Michael asked, not very curiously.
"Because my Dad told me to clean the garage, so that's what I'm doing. Cleaning the garage." Alex lifted a third box and began to carry it to the front. After another moment, Michael did the same. Alex noted that the alien had no trouble, lifting the heavy boxes as if they weighed nothing. Figures. Special powers and super-strength, all in one package. He idly wondered if this applied to all aliens, if Isabel...No, he wasn't going to go there.
In a short while, the back of the garage was empty. Alex grabbed a push broom and began to sweep the floor; Michael leaned against the garage wall and watched him. The silence would almost have seemed companionable, except that Alex knew there was something going on in Michael's brain. Why else would he be there? While he'd grown to like the tall loner, they weren't exactly chummy.
"So are you going to tell me what's up, or do I have to guess?" he said cheerfully.
Michael responded with one word. "Maria."
"Aaaahhh," Alex replied knowingly. "She getting on your case again? Look, I know you told her to give you some space, but she really cares about you. She's not one to sit back and watch while her friends..." He stopped as Michael shook his head.
"It's not that," he said tersely. "Here." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Alex, who unfolded it. Wow. Someone sure had some anger in him.
"Hmmm. Interesting perspective. I'm not so sure about your choice of subject, though."
Michael frowned, but didn't seem to take umbrage at Alex's assumption. He spoke unemotionally. "I didn't draw it. Maria found it in her locker on Monday."
Alex studied the drawing again. "Somebody sure doesn't like her," he commented. "Any idea who? What does she think?"
Michael straightened up a bit. "I don't know. And you can't ask her."
"Why not?"
Looking the slightest bit uncomfortable, he replied, "Because she doesn't know I've got it." Alex raised his eyebrows, and Michael went on, "She dropped it on Monday and I found it. Then this afternoon she...she came over to get it. And I gave her another one."
"Another one?" Alex questioned.
"I copied it and gave her the copy, okay? It wasn't hard. It's not a very good sketch," he replied, a wee bit defensively.
Raising his eyebrows, Alex said, "I see why you wouldn't want her to know. She won't be very happy with you. So why'd you do it in the first place?"
"I think something's really wrong here. When I first picked it up, I got a sense of...wrongness." He shook his head, unable to really describe what he'd felt.
"You had a vision?"
"Not exactly. I just got this feeling. I think Maria's in danger."
Alex tensed. "From what?"
"I don't know, all right? That's why I wanted to keep the sketch. I thought if I held onto it, maybe I would be able to get a vision, find out more."
"And have you?"
"Not so far," Michael admitted reluctantly.
"So why tell me about it? Why not Max and Isabel?"
"You're the only one I could tell who'd help keep an eye on her without getting on my case for...other things."
Oh. Okay. "What do you want me to do?"
"Just keep an eye peeled for anything strange."
Alex grinned. "Michael, that doesn't exactly narrow it down. Our whole lives have been strange for a year now."
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I do," he answered, before his thoughts drifted back to Maria. "She's really not going to be happy when she finds this out, you know. And she will."
"Not if you don't tell her," the alien said stubbornly.
"She can sense when you're around, remember? What is she going to think when you start hanging around, watching all the time?"
"I'll deal with that when I have to."
Alex studied Michael. "There's still something you're not telling me. What else?"
"Just...keep an extra watchful eye on her when you know I'm around."
This didn't sound good. "Why?" Alex demanded.
Michael looked down at the floor before speaking softly. "I don't know what's going to hurt her. I can't tell where the danger comes from. What if it's from me?"
TBC...