CHAPTER 46
"Wh..what?" stammered Melanie.
"The notes," Michael said impatiently. "The ones you left in her locker, on her car, at work."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested.
He glared down at her, and she quailed, taking a quick step backward. "Alex," he barked, seeing the bass player approaching down the hall, "Go find Maria. Get the notes from her and bring them here."
"What's going on?" Alex asked.
"Just do it!" Michael snapped, not tearing his gaze from the cowering girl in front of him. Alex took one look at the expression on Michael's face and bolted for the auditorium doors.
Once inside, he rushed up to Maria, who was sitting in the house, reviewing her script. "I need the notes," he said without any preliminaries.
"Huh?" she said, caught off guard.
"The notes, the ones you found. I need them!" Alex hissed. She looked at him, then began to rummage in her bag for them. "What's going on, Alex?"
"Michael's cornered Melanie in the hallway. I think he's confronting her about them," he blurted as he snatched the papers from her.
"Oh my god." She dropped her bag and ran after Alex. She found him in the hallway, handing the notes to Michael, who was towering over Melanie.
"I'm talking about these," the alien bit out. "Look familiar?"
Melanie took them with trembling hands. Unfolding them, she read each one. She hesitated, then responded, "No. I haven't seen them before." She held the notes out to him.
For a moment, Maria thought Michael was going to lose it. She put a restraining hand on his arm. He threw it off and she stepped back, hurt. Alex said his name in warning. The alien closed his eyes and held perfectly still for a moment, struggling to regain control of his rage. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and spoke more calmly. "You didn't write them?"
Melanie shook her head, wide-eyed. "No."
He studied her expression for a moment, weighing her sincerity. Then his hand shot out and grabbed her right wrist, pulling it towards him. She held still, confused, as he studied her hand as if he were trying to fix it in his memory. Then he let go just as suddenly. Reaching out slowly, he gently took the papers from her other hand. Turning to Alex, he spoke in a dull tone. "It's not her. Tell the others." And then he strode down the hallway towards the parking lot.
Melanie watched him go, eyes as big as saucers. Finally, she whispered, "What was that all about?"
"...so it looks like we're back to scratch," Michael said testily into the phone. "We still have no clue who's behind the notes."
On the other end, Max reminded him, "We still have your vision to go by."
"It's not enough, Maxwell! She could be in danger. I wasn't so worried when we thought it was Melanie, but now..." His voice trailed off. "We have to figure this out."
"I know. We will," Max assured him.
Michael ran his free hand through his hair. "But I don't know how, or even what to do next. I thought about it the whole time I was at work, and I just can't get my brain wrapped around it. I--"
A crisp knock on the door cut him off in mid-sentence. "Hold on, Max. Someone's here." Setting the phone down, he padded to the door and swung it open. "What do you wa--" he demanded, only to stop mid-phrase when he saw who was standing outside. It was the last person he would have expected. Mrs. DeLuca.
He stood looking at her in confusion, no words coming to him. She raised her eyebrows and then pushed past him into his apartment. Staying by the door as she looked around, he tried to see the shabby room through her eyes. He wasn't impressed by it.
Mrs. DeLuca quickly took in the small details, like the tie-dyed cloth Isabel had draped over the window as a curtain and the Metallica posters on the walls, that attempted to make it a little more homey. It didn't quite work. She had to admit, though, especially for a teenage boy living on his own, it was fairly neat. She gave a noncommittal "Hmmm."
When she had looked her fill, she turned back to Michael, who was still standing wordlessly in front of the open apartment door. She stepped nearer to him and he braced himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. Instead, she reached out and took his chin in one hand, tilting his face to the side as she clinically studied his bruises just as carefully as she had studied his apartment. She spoke for the first time. Her voice was calm. "You should try some witch hazel on that." He shied back away from her without responding.
He couldn't read her expression. It wasn't one he was familiar with. "I still don't want you near Maria," she said firmly. He nodded, and she continued, "But I pay my debts." And with that, she held out the box she was holding in her other hand towards him. He looked at it but didn't move to take it. "It won't bite. That's your job," she said, thrusting the box into his hands. Then she coolly left his apartment.
He looked down at it, unsure of what had just happened. After a few moments, he gingerly opened the box and stood staring down at its contents. Then he headed back to the phone. "Max? You still there?"
"Yeah."
Michael hesitated. "Something weird just happened." He could hear the rustle as Max sat up.
"What?" Max asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Mrs. DeLuca just showed up at my door. She looked around, handed me a pie, and left."
"And?" prompted Max, feeling that there was more to it than that.
"Why would she do that?" said Michael, almost to himself. "She hates me, so why bring me food? Why bother seeing where I live? Why...why check out my eye and act like...like...It was weird, that's all," he finished abruptly.
"What did she say, Michael?" Max asked.
"Same old speech about staying away from Maria, but that she pays her debts." A thought struck him. "You don't think she's trying to poison me, do you?"
Max burst into laughter. "No, Michael. It's for helping with her car, remember? She dropped a blackberry pie off for me at the UFO Museum this afternoon. It's her way of saying thank you."
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Max waited patiently, and finally Michael said, "I don't get it, though."
"What?"
"Why bother with it? She got what she wanted; I'm staying away from Maria. Mrs. DeLuca never had to see me again. It would've been easier to forget about me. I would've."
"Sometimes it's better to confront things, Michael," Max said quietly. "You can't always run away and pretend things don't exist. Looks like Mrs. DeLuca knows that." Michael was silent, absorbing this thought. "Don't worry too much about it. Go have some pie. Enjoy it," Max advised. "What kind is it, anyway?"
"I don't know," Michael admitted. "I haven't had any yet. It looks like chocolate, though. Maybe chocolate cream."
"Well, have a piece and try to stop worrying. We'll all put out heads together and try to come up with a plan tomorrow, okay?"
"Yeah."
"You're not alone in this, you know," Max reminded him.
"I know."
"See you tomorrow then."
"Yeah." Michael hung up the phone and then picked up the pie and carried it over to the counter. Rummaging in a drawer for a fork, he thought about Mrs. DeLuca, still trying to grasp the reason for her visit. She confused him almost as much as her daughter did. The woman hated him; Michael was sure of that. She blamed him for Maria's lying to her, for her staying out all night, and, worst, for sleeping with her daughter...Hell, she probably blamed him for rioting, terrorism and the hole in the ozone layer too.
But she had brought him a pie, and she had held his face as she studied it. Michael wasn't used to being touched like that. Not like...like a mother might have, if he'd had one. Gentle and stern at the same time.
Maria was lucky. He wasn't sure she realized just how lucky she was. And he was not going to do anything to come between this girl and her mother. Their relationship--it was too important. He would just settle for...pie.
He sat down at the counter and pulled the box towards him, lifting the foil pie pan out. It was cool, like it had been in the refrigerator. Not bothering with a plate, he scooped out a forkful and put it in his mouth. The flavors of cream cheese, pie crust and nuts melded with the chocolate taste on his tongue. It wasn't a chocolate cream pie, not like any he'd had before. They usually had whipped cream or meringue on top. This was different, but he knew what it was. He'd never had it before, but he'd heard of it. It was ironic. Mrs. DeLuca could have no idea how ironic it was. Setting down his fork, he headed for the kitchen and a bottle of Tabasco sauce to pour onto his homemade Mississippi Mud Pie.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Maria burst out, dropping her half-eaten sandwich onto her napkin. "It is impossible to have a planning meeting without all of us here. You're just going to end up going over all of this again with Michael, anyway, so why can't he save you some time and just show up in the first place? Would it kill him to spend five minutes in my presence?"
"It's not that, and you know it," Isabel put in blandly. "Lord knows I think he's being an idiot too, but he has his reasons for what he's doing, and they're important to him."
"I can't believe he let my mother scare him off," Maria groused. "I mean, I'm the one who's in trouble here. She can't do anything to him. She gets queasy when she sees blood."
"It's not just about your mother, Maria," Max reminded her. "There's a lot more going on in his head than that."
"I know that, I do. But can't we at least be civil?" She shook her head, sighing. "No, I guess we can't, and I'm just going to have to live with it. For now, anyway." She looked around at her four companions, two human and two alien. "So where do we go from here? I mean, if Melanie isn't my stalker?"
"It still seems to me that it's got to be someone innocuous," volunteered Liz. "I mean as far as Czechoslovakian issues are concerned. There's no proof that it isn't someone who just hates you."
"Gee, thanks, Liz. Nice to know you think I'm so popular," Maria chided her.
"Never fear!" Alex put in dramatically. "Even when the rest of the world turns against you, you'll still have us."
"Well, there's real cause for rejoicing right there," said Maria, straight-faced. Liz wadded up her napkin and flung it at her friend. Maria ducked and laughed, and the rest joined in.
"Feeding time at Losers-R-Us?" asked Pamela Harris snidely as she came up behind Maria.
"Speaking of someone who hates me," Maria muttered under her breath. But the weeks of being the brunt of this girl's sniping had finally come to a head. "Okay, Pamela, you know what? I've had enough from you. If you have a problem with me, then have the guts to tell me about it, because I'm not putting up with your little comments any more," Maria challenged, a dangerous glint in her eye.
"Oooh, you have me so scared," Pamela mocked. Liz and Alex immediately knew the girl had just made a big mistake. Maria was already enough on edge, what with being grounded, Michael avoiding her, Michael being hurt, Michael avoiding her, the final weeks of play rehearsal, and, of course, Michael avoiding her. Poor unsuspecting Pamela had no idea what she had just unleashed.
Across the table, Isabel opened her mouth to speak up in her friend's defense. Shaking his head slightly, Alex put a restraining hand on her arm and then settled back to watch the show.
"So what's the bug up your butt, Pamela?" Maria asked in a deceptively calm voice. "Bad hair day, flunked exam, the words in the National Enquirer too big for you, what?"
The brunette bristled. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, don't you? Always coming in and screwing things up for everybody. Well, you're not going to get away with it this time. I'm on to you."
"What are you talking about? I never did anything to you. You just started being a total bitch to me for no reason."
"No reason?" Pamela hissed. "You thieving whore!"
Maria rose slowly from her chair and stood facing the other girl. Her tone was fierce. "Would you prefer to take that back on your own, or am I going to have to knock an apology out of you?"
"You're the one who should apologize. Stop trying to steal my boyfriend!" Pamela shouted.
"What?"
"God, I knew blondes were dumb, but I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you! Mark. Mark Blumenthal. Stay away from him!"
Maria's face crinkled up in angry confusion. "What? You think I...? No. No way. It's a good thing white looks good on you, Pamela, because you're going to be wearing a straightjacket for a very long time. You are insane."
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" the senior shouted. "Did you think I was stupid?"
"I am so not going there, it's too easy," said Maria with a smirk. "Look, I am not after Mark. We're just in the play together; it's acting. I don't even like him all that much. And besides, I'm kind of involved with someone else."
"Stop lying about it," scoffed Pamela. "Involved with someone else? Now you're making up pitiful stories to try and cover up what you've done. So who are you going to use as your pretend boyfriend, Alex here? I don't think so. I know the truth, you lying bitch. I found a blonde hair on his jacket! Explain that!"
Maria responded with sarcasm. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe he has a golden retriever? Get a grip on reality, Pamela."
"I'll get a grip on you, you two-bit slut!" Pamela screamed.
"Oh, for god's sake," Maria burst out. She nimbly stepped onto her chair and then up onto the table, her feet narrowly avoiding the remains of her lunch. She raised her voice. "Can I have your attention, please?" she shouted. Within seconds, the entire cafeteria was quiet and looking at her. Strangely enough, she didn't experience the slightest bit of nervousness as all eyes focused on her.
"For the last time, I would like to officially announce that I have absolutely no, nor have I ever had any, romantic interest in Mark Blumenthal. I don't even want to try to think about him that way, it's gross." She saw Mark across the room. He didn't look particularly amused. "Sorry, Mark. You're a nice guy and all, but uh-uh. No way." Pamela began to protest, but Maria continued on like a steamroller.
"And even if I could think about Mark that way, it wouldn't make any difference, because I am totally head over heels in love with Michael Guerin, who is a million times more worthy of being loved. Everyone got that? Are we clear now? Any questions? No? Okay." She held out a steady hand to Max, who was closest, and he wordlessly helped her down off the table.
Maria turned to Pamela, who was looking at her in shock. "Better close your mouth, Pam, before the rest of your brains attempt to flee the gaping void that's masquerading as your mind," she said sweetly, then sat down and calmly took a bite of her sandwich.
After a moment of silence, the cafeteria erupted in excited speech and the buzz of conversation surrounded them. The four other people at her table remained quiet, watching her. "You can go now, Pamela," she directed, not bothering to turn around. The girl walked away in high dudgeon and Maria permitted herself a small smile. Four pairs of eyes, with various expressions of shock, surprise and amusement, were still fixed on her. "What?" she asked.
Isabel was the first to recover. "That was...unexpected."
"Yeah, well, she ticked me off," explained Maria airily.
Max looked at her in concern. "Maria, I hate to burst your bubble, but how do you think Michael is going to take this? You're already upset that he's staying away from you. I don't think this is going to help any."
She blinked at him. "He isn't even here. I would have felt him."
"Even before all this...recent stuff happened, he was a pretty private person, you know that. He doesn't like public attention. And between the school-wide gossip and the article in the Roswell Journal this morning, he's already had more than his fill of it this week. And now, with you..." Max trailed off.
Maria's face tensed. "With me shooting my mouth off, you mean. Well, we won't tell him about it then. I mean, there's no reason he has to know, right?" she said nervously.
Liz spoke gently. "Look around you", she said, gesturing towards the chattering students around them. "Do you really think he won't hear about it, 'Ria?"
"Oh my god," Maria groaned. "How could I just do that? Why didn't I stop myself? What was I thinking? What?" She looked frantically around at the others. "There are four of you. Why didn't one of you stop me?" she wailed.
Isabel shook her head. "We could hardly know you were going to announce your undying passion for my backward brother to the entire student body."
Maria looked at her for a moment. Then she shoved her lunch out of the way and folded her arms on the table, letting her head fall down on them with a thud. When she spoke, her voice was hopeless. "I am so dead."
TBC...